There were not many real gentry, as the townsfolk called them, living
near. A few retired Londoners, weary of the great city, and finding
rents and living cheaper at Upton, had settled in trim villas, built
beyond the boundaries of the town. But for the most part the population
consisted of substantial trades-people and professional men, whose
families had been represented there for several generations. As usual
the society was broken up into very small cliques; no one household
feeling itself exactly on the same social equality as another; even as
far down as the laundresses and charwomen, who could tell whose husband
or son had been before the justices, and which families had escaped that
disgrace. The nearest approach to that equality and fraternity of which
we all hear so much and see so little, was unfortunately to be found in
the bar-parlor and billiard-room of the Upton Arms; but even this was
lost as soon as the threshold was recrossed, and the boon-companions of
the interior breathed the air of the outer world. There were several
religious sects of considerable strength, and of very decided
antagonistic views; any one of whose members was always ready to give
the reason of the special creed that was in him. So, what with a variety
of domestic circumstances, and a diversity of religious opinions, it is
not to be wondered at that the society of Upton was broken up into very
small circles indeed.

There was one point, however, on which all the townspeople were united.
There could be no doubt whatever as to the beauty of the old Norman
church, lying just beyond the eastern boundary of the town; not mingling
with its business, but standing in a solemn quiet of its own, as if to
guard the repose of the sleepers under its shadow. The churchyard too,
was beautiful, with its grand and dusky old yew-trees, spreading their
broad sweeping branches like cedars, and with many a bright colored