loa!" cried Lawless, "who's that old picture of ugliness? Look what
a pace the beggar's cutting along at! what on earth's he up to?"

"That's the sexton and bell-ringer," returned Coleman; "they keep up the
old custom at Hillingford of ringing the curfew at daybreak, and he's
going about it now, I suppose."

"What jolly fun!" said Lawless; "come on, and let's see how the old
cock does it; "and, suiting the action to the word, off he started in
pursuit.

"We'd better follow him," said I; "he'll be getting into some mischief
or other, depend upon it."

After running a short distance down the street, on turning a corner
we found Lawless standing under a small arched door-way leading into a
curious old battlemented tower, which did not form part of any church
or other building of the same date as itself, but stood alone,
~130~~showing, as it reared its time-worn head high above the more
modern dwellings of which the street was composed, like some giant relic
of the days of old. This tower contained a peal of bells, the fame
of which was great in that part of the country, and of which the
townspeople were justly proud.

"All right!" cried Lawless; "the old scarecrow ran in here like a
lamp-lighter, as soon he saw me bowling after him, and has left the key
in the lock; so I shall take the liberty of exploring a little; I've a
strong though undeveloped taste for architectural antiquities. Twopence
more, and up goes the donkey! come along!"

So saying, he flung open the door, and disappeared up some steps leading
to the interior of the tower, and, after a moment's hesitation, Coleman
and I followed him.

"Don't be alarmed, old boy!" observed Lawless, patting the sexton (who
looked frightened out of his wits at our intrusion) so forcibly on the
back as to set him coughing violently; "we're not come to murder you for
the sake of your lantern."

"This gentleman," said Coleman, who by the cunning twinkle of his eye
was evidently becoming possessed by the spirit of mischief, "has been
sent down by the Venerable Society of Antiquaries to ascertain whether
the old custom of ringing the Curfew is properly performed here. He is,
in fact, no other than the Noble President of the Society himself. That
gentleman (pointing to me) is the Vice-President, and I, who have the
honour of addressing you, am the unworthy Secretary."

"That's it, Daddy," resumed Lawless, coolly taking up the lantern, and
lighting a cigar; "that's the prec