t the back.

Meanwhile Mr. Benjamin Grower, that prominent burgess of whom mention
has been already made, hearing the din of cleavers, tongs, tambourines,
kits, crouds, humstrums, serpents, rams'-horns, and other historical
kinds of music as he sat indoors in the High Street, had put on his hat
and gone out to learn the cause. He came to the corner above Farfrae's,
and soon guessed the nature of the proceedings; for being a native of
the town he had witnessed such rough jests before. His first move was
to search hither and thither for the constables, there were two in the
town, shrivelled men whom he ultimately found in hiding up an alley yet
more shrivelled than usual, having some not ungrounded fears that they
might be roughly handled if seen.

"What can we two poor lammigers do against such a multitude!"
expostulated Stubberd, in answer to Mr. Grower's chiding. "'Tis tempting
'em to commit felo-de-se upon us, and that would be the death of the
perpetrator; and we wouldn't be the cause of a fellow-creature's death
on no account, not we!"

"Get some help, then! Here, I'll come with you. We'll see what a few
words of authority can do. Quick now; have you got your staves?"

"We didn't want the folk to notice us as law officers, being so
short-handed, sir; so we pushed our Gover'ment staves up this
water-pipe.

"Out with 'em, and come along, for Heaven's sake! Ah, here's Mr.
Blowbody; that's lucky." (Blowbody was the third of the three borough
magistrates.)

"Well, what's the row?" said Blowbody. "Got their names--hey?"

"No. Now," said Grower to one of the constables, "you go with Mr.
Blowbody round by the Old Walk and come up the street; and I'll go with
Stubberd straight forward. By this plan we shall have 'em between us.
Get their names only: no attack or interruption."

Thus they started. But as Stubberd with Mr. Grower advanced into Corn
Street, whence the sounds had proceeded, they were surprised that no
procession could be seen. They passed Farfrae's, and looked to the end
of the street. The lamp flames waved, the Walk trees soughed, a few
loungers stood about with their hands in their pockets. Everything was
as usual.

"Have you seen a motley crowd making a disturbance?" Grower said
magisterially to one of these in a fustian jacket, who smoked a short
pipe and wore straps round his knees.

"Beg yer pardon, sir?" blandly said the person addressed, who was no
other than Charl, of Peter's Finger. Mr. Gr