have a bedroom prepared for him.

It happened to be the evening of Friday, one devoted by some of the
townspeople to a symposium. To this, knowing that the talk will
throw a glimmer on several matters, I will now introduce my reader,
as a spectator through the reversed telescope of my history.

A few of the more influential of the inhabitants had grown, rather
than formed themselves, into a kind of club, which met weekly at The
Boar's Head. Although they had no exclusive right to the room in
which they sat, they generally managed to retain exclusive
possession of it; for if any supposed objectionable person entered,
they always got rid of him, sometimes without his being aware of how
they had contrived to make him so uncomfortable. They began to
gather about seven o'clock, when it was expected that boiling water
would be in readiness for the compound generally called toddy,
sometimes punch. As soon as six were assembled, one was always
voted into the chair.

On the present occasion, Mr. Innes, the school-master, was
unanimously elected to that honour. He was a hard-featured,
sententious, snuffy individual, of some learning, and great
respectability.

I omit the political talk with which their intercommunications
began; for however interesting at the time is the scaffolding by
which existing institutions arise, the poles and beams when gathered
again in the builder's yard are scarcely a subject for the artist.

The first to lead the way towards matters of nearer personality was