he ear, and it powerfully recalled to Edwin the legends of the
Spanish Inquisition. He speculated whether he would ever be able to
touch beef again. Above the tortured and insulted corpse the air
quivered in large waves. Mr Doy, the leading butcher of Bursley, and
now chief executioner, regarded with anxiety the operation which had
been entrusted to him, and occasionally gave instructions to a myrmidon.
Round about stood a few privileged persons, whom pride helped to bear
the double heat; and farther off on the pavements, a thin scattered
crowd. The sublime spectacle of an ox roasted whole had not sufficed to
keep the townsmen in the town. Even the sages who had conceived and
commanded this peculiar solemnity for celebrating the Jubilee of a Queen
and Empress had not stayed in the borough to see it enacted, though some
of them were to return in time to watch the devouring of the animal by
the aged poor at a ceremonial feast in the evening.

"It's a grand sight!" said Big James, with simple enthusiasm. "A grand
sight! Real old English! And I wish her well!" He meant the Queen and
Empress. Then suddenly, in a different tone, sniffing the air, "I doubt
it's turned! I'll step across and ask Mr Doy."

He stepped across, and came back with the news that the greater portion
of the ox, despite every precaution, had in fact very annoyingly
`turned,' and that the remainder of the carcass was in serious danger.

"What'll the old people say?" he demanded sadly. "But it's a grand
sight, turned or not!"

Edwin stared and stared, in a sort of sinister fascination. He thought
that he might stare for ever. At length, after ages of ennui, he loosed
himself from the spell with an effort and glanced at Big James.

"And what are you going to do with yourself to-day, James?"

Big James smiled. "I'm going to take my walks abroad, sir. It's seldom
as I get about in the town nowadays."

"Well, I must be off!"

"I'd like you to give my respects to the old gentleman, sir."

Edwin nodded and departed, very slowly and idly, towards Trafalgar Road
and Bleakridge. He pulled his straw hat over his forehead to avoid the
sun, and then he pushed it backwards to his neck to avoid the sun. The
odour of the shrivelling ox remained with him; it was in his nostrils
for several days. His heart grew blacker with intense gloom; and the
contentment of Big James at the prospect of just strolling about the
damnable dead town for the rest