es--well-to-do
and humble alike--have been there for so many, many years. The very
carter, or the little tailor working in his shop-window, will tell you
(and prove to you by records) that his ancestor stood to the barricade
with pike or matchlock when the army of King or Parliament, as the case
may be, besieged the sturdy town two hundred years ago. He has a longer
pedigree than many a titled dweller in Belgravia. All these people believe
in Fleeceborough. When fate forces them to quit--when the young man seeks
his fortune in New Zealand or America--he writes home the fullest
information, and his letters published in the local print read curiously
to an outsider, so full are they of local inquiries, and answers to
friends who wished to know this or that. In the end he comes back--should
he succeed in getting the gold which tempted him away--to pass his latter
days gossiping round with the dear old folk, and to marry amongst them.
Yet, with all their deep local patriotism, they are not bigoted or
narrow-minded; there is too much literature abroad for that, and they have
the cosiest reading-room wherein to learn all that passes in the world.
They have a town council held now and then in an ancient wainscoted hall,
with painted panels and coats of arms, carved oaken seats black with age,
and narrow windows from which men once looked down into the street,
wearing trunk hose and rapier.

But they have at least two other councils that meet much more often, and
that meet by night. When his books are balanced, when his shop is shut,
after he has strolled round his garden, and taken his supper, the
tradesman or shopkeeper walks down to his inn, and there finds his circle
assembled. They are all there, the rich and the moderately well-to-do, the
struggling, and the poor. Each delivers his opinion over the social glass,
or between the deliberate puffs of his cigar or pipe. The drinking is
extremely moderate, the smoking not quite so temperate; but neither the
glass nor the cigar are the real attractions. It is the common hall--the
informal place of meeting.

It is here that, the real government of the town is planned--the mere
formal resolutions voted in the ancient council-room are the outcome of
the open talk, and the quiet whisper here. No matter what subject is to
the front, the question is always heard--What will 'he' do? What will 'he'
say to it? The Volunteers compete for prizes which 'he' offers. The
cottage hospital; th