they said it was along of his wife’s dying; though there’s reasons in things as nobody knows on—that’s pretty much what I’ve made out; yet some folks are so wise, they’ll find you fifty reasons straight off, and all the while the real reason’s winking at ’em in the corner, and they niver see’t. Howsomever, it was soon seen as we’d got a new parish’ner as know’d the rights and customs o’ things, and kep a good house, and was well looked on by everybody. And the young man—that’s the Mr. Lammeter as now is, for he’d niver a sister—soon begun to court Miss Osgood, that’s the sister o’ the Mr. Osgood as now is, and a fine handsome lass she was—eh, you can’t think—they pretend this young lass is like her, but that’s the way wi’ people as don’t know what come before ’em. I should know, for I helped the old rector, Mr. Drumlow as was, I helped him marry ’em.” 

 Here Mr. Macey paused; he always gave his narrative in instalments, expecting to be questioned according to precedent. 

 “Aye, and a partic’lar thing happened, didn’t it, Mr. Macey, so as you were likely to remember that marriage?” said the landlord, in a congratulatory tone. 

 “I should think there did—a very partic’lar thing,” said Mr. Macey, nodding sideways. “For Mr. Drumlow—poor old gentleman, I was fond on him, though he’d got a bit confused in his head, what wi’ age and wi’ taking a drop o’ summat warm when the service come of a cold morning. And young Mr. Lammeter, he’d have no way but he must be married in Janiwary, which, to be sure, ’s a unreasonable time to be married in, for it isn’t like a christening or a burying, as you can’t help; and so Mr. Drumlow—poor old gentleman, I was fond on him—but when he come to put the questions, he put ’em by the rule o’ contrairy, like, and he says, “Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded wife?” says he, and then he says, “Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded husband?” says he. But the partic’larest thing of all is, as nobody took any notice on it but me, and they answered straight off “yes”, like as if it had been me saying “Amen” i’ the right place, without listening to what went before.” 

 “But you knew what was going on well enough, didn’t you, Mr. Macey? You were live enough, eh?” said the butcher. 

 “Lor bless you!” said Mr. Macey, pausing, and smiling in pity at the impotence of his hearer’s imagination—“why, I was all of a tremble: it was as if I’d been a coat pulled by the two tails, like; for I couldn’t stop the parson, I couldn’t take upon me to do that; and yet I said to myself, I says, “Suppose they 

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