word, came forth from his mug no more.

Several other clubs signed, and received their money. Very few
could write their names; all who could not, pleaded that they could
not, more or less sorrowfully, and always with a shake of the head,
and in a lower voice than their natural speaking voice. Crosses
could be made standing; signatures must be sat down to. There was
no exception to this rule. Meantime, the various club-members
smoked, drank their beer, and talked together quite unrestrained.
They all wore their hats, except when they went up to Friar Bacon's
table. The merry-faced little man offered his beer, with a natural
good-fellowship, both to the Dreary one and Philosewers. Both
partook of it with thanks.

"Seven o'clock!" said Friar Bacon. "And now we better get across to
the concert, men, for the music will be beginning."

The concert was in Friar Bacon's laboratory; a large building near
at hand, in an open field. The bettermost people of the village and
neighbourhood were in a gallery on one side, and, in a gallery
opposite the orchestra. The whole space below was filled with the
labouring people and their families, to the number of five or six
hundred. We had been obliged to turn away two hundred to-night,
Friar Bacon said, for want of room--and that, not counting the boys,
of whom we had taken in only a few picked ones, by reason of the
boys, as a class, being given to too fervent a custom of applauding
with their boot-heels.

The performers were the ladies of Friar Bacon's family, and two
gentlemen; one of them, who presided, a Doctor of Music. A piano