"You will persist in judging every one by yourself, and you cannot set up a more erroneous standard. Do you suppose that your wardrobe will be less commented on than your neighbours. Does Miss Tomson make any one a new bonnet without its being known and abused by all the owner's most intimate friends."

"But you must be wrong," said Emma; "it is impossible that all can be watched over in that way; we do not know a great many people who live here; even my sister does not; and why should I suppose that I am so conspicuous a personage?"

"The inhabitants of the town," said Mr. Morgan, "are divided into many different sets, it is true; they move in different circles, and there is no mixture; but the individuals of each class have their eyes constantly fixed on those above as well as those equal with themselves; the former, that they may imitate their actions; the latter, that they may detect the first symptom of mounting to a higher circle. They have likewise to detect and repress the first encroachment from the ranks beneath them, so that you see each individual has her attention fully occupied in this perpetual watching."

"You must be exaggerating, Mr. Morgan; I trust you are, at least."

"Do you want a proof of the jealousy and exclusive spirit which reigns amongst them? look into the church. There, where men and women ought, if ever, to meet as equals, what do you see?—the aristocratic classes—those who have their carriages and horses to bring them to their Sunday devotions, who have their comfortable and elegant dwellings out of the town, have likewise their comfortable pews for lounging through their prayers—their cushions, their carpets, their footstools, that they may not be too much fatigued by worship—their curtains, too, lest the vulgar gaze should distress their modesty, or intrude on their privacy. Then come the townspeople—the higher classes, those in professions, or, perhaps, in business, on a large scale, like George Millar, or the Greenes. These have their cushions and carpets, but are forced to forego the privacy of curtains, for which they make up by the superior brilliancy of their pew linings, and the elegance of the fringe drapery, which hangs down in front of the galleries. Inferior classes are forced to sit on benches without cushions, whilst the poorest of all may enjoy what comfort they can on the hard open seats in the stone aisle."

Emma looked thoughtful, but did not answer.

"You must admit the truth of my description," continued he; "there is 

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