took a seat upon a form quietly, and then
looked round coolly in anticipation of a round of sauce or a trifle
of fighting. But peace was preserved. There were just six living
beings in the room--three well-dressed moustached young men, a
thinly-fierce-looking woman, a very red-headed youth, and a quiet
little girl. For about 30 seconds absolute silence prevailed. The
thin woman then looked forward at the red-haired youth and in a
clear voice said "Bin round there yet--eh?" which elicited the
answer "Yea, and comed whoam." "Things are flat there as well as
here aren't they--eh?" And the red-haired youth said "Yea."
"Factories arn't doing much now, are they?" said she next, and the
rejoinder was "They arn't; bin round by Bowton, and its aw alike."
This slightly refreshing prelude was supplemented by sapient remarks
as to the weather &c.; and we were beginning to wonder whether the
general service was simply going to amount to this kind of
conversation or be pushed on "properly" when in stepped a strong-
built dark-complexioned man, who marched forward with the dignity of
an elder, until he got to a small table surmounted by a desk, whence
he drew a brown paper parcel, which he handed to one of the
moustached young men, who undid it cautiously and carefully, "What
is it going to be?" said we, mentally; when, lo! there appeared a
white table cloth, which was duly spread. The strong built man then
dived deeply into one of his coat pockets, and fetched out of it a
small paper parcel, flung it upon a form close by, seized a soup
plate into which he crumbled a slice of bread, then got a double-
handled pewter pot, into which he poured some water, and afterwards
sat down as generalissimo of the business. The individual who
manipulated with the table cloth afterwards made a prayer, universal
in several of its sentiments; but stiffened up tightly with Mormon
notions towards the close.

Two elderly men and a lad entered the room when the orison was
finished, and a discussion followed between the "general" and the
young man who had been praying as to some hymn they should sing.
"Can't find the first hymn," said the young man; and we thought that
a pretty smart thing for a beginning. "Oh, never mind--go farther
on--any--long meter," uttered his interlocutor, and he forthwith
made a sanguine dash into the centre of the book, and gave out a
hymn. The company got into a "peculiar metre" tune at once, and the
singing was about the most