chapels; in fact, he entertained an independent opinion on most points; therefore, the reader will not be surprised when I inform him that Julius liked the inside of a theatre better than the inside of a church. "Somehow," he said, "he never visited the latter place without being made uncomfortable and wretched. The parson preached so much against the stage and the players. Why didn't he mind his own business, and not try to put people against what was good for them. He should like to hiss him, that he should; but people must neither hiss nor clap in a church." Now, the cause of this lack of religion in Julius is easily explained; his father was a bigoted Roman Catholic, and his mother was a Protestant. Thus the parents, whose ideas on religion were so diametrically opposed to each other, had had daily disagreements as to the faith in which their child was to be reared, till the ultimate result of those differences of opinion was a resolve that he was to go neither to church nor to chapel.

Julius had now just reached the outskirts of Wigan -sooty Wigan, as it was called; neat houses, with gardens around them, were on each side of him; but as he proceeded, the buildings were higher and blacker, and without gardens. Towering chimneys, pouring forth volumes of smoke, surrounded and filled the town; and most of the people whom he met looked as if they resided in coal cellars and slept upon soot bags.

"Here, little boy," said Julius, stopping a lad who was hurrying along with a breakfast-can in his hand.

"Who dost thee caw 'little by'?" asked the lad, in the broad Lancashire dialect. so big!"

"Look at theesel'! tha'rt nane

"I beg your pardon," said Julius, in an humble tone; "I'm sure I didn't mean to offend."

"Oh, tha didn't! that's reet," replied the lad, laughing. "Lorgeous gracious! how foine tha talks! who art tha, and wheere dost 'ee cum fro'?"

Julius did not reply, but walked on.

"Holloa! tha'rt running away, art 'ee? I'll punch thee yhead, if tha dusn't tell me aw aboot theesel."

Julius was confounded.

"What a little brute!" exclaimed he mentally; "I shall not tell him who I am."

"Cum, who art 'ee?" persisted the lad; "and who's thee fayther an muther?"

Julius hung back.

"Happen tha's gotten none! I know lots o' lads, and lasses too, that never had none."

The church bell now rang quickly and cheerfully. "Lorgeous-days! theer's th' eight o'clock bell!" exclaimed the lad, starting away. "I'll know thee agin!" he continued, shaking his fist at Julius; "an' when I see thee, moind theesel'! for I'll gee thee a precious purrin;" saying which, the youngster scampered down the street, and the clatter of his clogs was soon lost in the distance.

Julius drewa long breath, and wished that he was at home again. Meeting a girl with a baby in her arms, he asked her in a meek voice, what was the name of the town in which he was walking. The girl opened her eyes and mouth, and laughing heartily, called him "a born nat'ral," and proceeded onwards. With a sinking heart, Julius crept up the street, almost fearing to look at the people whom he encountered, lest he should offend or be offended. He now stood in a square filled with stalls, containing wares of various descriptions, wearing apparel, toys, gingerbread, et cætera. All was bustle and confusion-Julius thought it was market-day. Approaching a stall, he drew forth one of his sixpences, and wistfully regarded it. He knew that he was about to commit an extravagant act, but he couldn't help it-the woman of the stall would, after he had made a purchase of her gingerbread, surely answer his questions civilly. For some few seconds he was in doubt whether to spend a half-penny or a whole one. At length he came to the conclusion, that to spend a whole one would look the best, and he would take care to make the gingerbread serve for two meals. Thus resolved, he put down his silver piece, demanding a penny cake, and fivepence back.

Julius was asked whether he would have a cock, an elephant, or a mouse?

"An elephant, of course."

The woman gave him the desired animal, and fivepence change.

"There was a harp on the back of one of the halfpennies," Julius said.

"That was of no consequence," the woman replied.

"But will people take it?" asked Julius.

"Yes; in Wigan the folks are not over-nice about money -it doesn't matter to them whether there is a harp or a woman on the back of the pence."

Julius was informed he was in Wigan. With curious and inquiring eyes he surveyed the market-place, at one end of which frowned a dark, mysterious-looking building, called the Old Town Hall, with little square windows and of odd architecture. The wanderer sat down on the basement of a high stone column, which sustained a gas-lamp in the centre of the market, and watched the scene. Why were there so many toy-booths? What a strange place, and what extraordinary people they were in Wigan! By-and-by, the bustle increased, and the town became crowded. Julius was weary; so with his bundle under his head, he fell fast asleep, and dreamed happy dreams, for he dreamed of a prosperous future.

The neighbouring church bells were ringing for afternoon prayers, when Julius awoke, stiff and cold, the weather being chilly for the season of the year. The youth rubbed his eyes and stared about, utterly unable to comprehend where he was. There were sounds of distant music in the air, and also a certain hum, buzz, and confusion around, quite at variance with the order and quiet of a well-regulated country town.

He durst not ask questions; so he would walk on and seek out the cause of this commotion, which, to Julius's inexperience, seemed little less than a downright riot. Along Wallgate he sauntered, stopping every now and then to read the placards which were posted on the walls, and outside the shutters of uninhabited dwellings, hoping that a play-bill might gladden his sight. There was a bill, stating that somebody's goods were to be sold by auction; and there were other bills, which recommended you to purchase your tea and sugar at the Jamaica Warehouse; and others enjoining you to attend to your health, and immediately to buy a box of Holloway's pills. Julius turned away vexed and disappointed, and with a heavy heart crept on. All at once, it occurred to him that it was fair-time; everything he saw confirmed the fact. Scarcely knowing what he was about, he entered the Wood-yard, the very nucleus of the fair diversions, where all the shows, menageries, swingingboats, and whirligigs, were in commotion. Outside one booth a man was vigorously beating a drum with one hand, while with the other he was pointing to the painted canvas behind him; which, he said, did not convey the remotest notion of what he had to show the public, for nobody could possibly imagine the smallness of his dwarf, or the height of his giant; who, in consequence of the lowness of the caravan, was obliged to remain in a sitting posture all the day long. People might then judge of his wondrous stature by noting the height of the caravan, which was the largest ever built. Julius elbowed his way through the gaping crowd towards the menagerie, before which he paused to listen. Was it really the roar of a lion which he heard? What a big fellow he must be to possess such lungs! A band now struck up Roger de Coverly, and the youth darted towards the booth whence the music proceeded.

"Angels and ministers!" exclaimed Julius, as he neared the booth-" why, if here isn't a real Richardson show, and a real Richardson company, I dare say, dancing outside, and all that sort of horrid thing. Ah, I thought so," continued he, perceiving the company arrange themselves for a dance. "Pshaw! not a step step done properly-regular ignoramuses-crabs would do better. La, what time they keep!"

"Holloa, lad!" said a rough countryman in a smock frock" what dost'ee carry thee stick on thee showder for, eh? Dost 'ee want to poke folks oyes out?"

Julius paid no attention to the countryman's question, but continued gazing on the motley mountebanks, who were now trying to get through a set of quadrilles.

"Tak' thee stick doon, wilt 'a!" said the man in the smock frock-" tak' it doon, I tell'ee!" repeated he, administering a smart rap on Julius's knuckles.

"What the deuce did you do that for?" said he, turning sharply round.

"Foind it out," returned the man, whisking the stick out of Julius's grasp, and flinging it over the crowd.

"Oh, my bundle-my money!" cried Julius, clutching at the man's arm.

"What dost 'ee mean by bundle, 'a seed none !" "Yes, yes; there was one fastened to the knob of my stick," said Julius, turning very white.

"Oh, oh! tha's cum to th' fair wee thaten soort o' trade, hast'a?" said the countryman, shaking his huge fist in Julius's face.

"Oh, dear! let me go-my clothes-my money!" sobbed the lad, struggling to free himself from the man's iron grasp. "Tha'rt a doon-reet cheet! that's what 'ee are!" said the man, in a burly tone; "and if 'a had thee at Lomry-green, 'a'd gee thee a precious duckin', that 'a would!"

"My money-my money!" persisted Julius; "five sixpences and five pennies."

"Tha'd better goo and foind thee munny," said the countryman, winking at the men about him, all of whom seemed to regard the whole affair as an excellent joke.

In an instant, Julius was lifted into the air, and passed over the heads of the yelling mob. In vain did he kick out and endeavour to extricate himself: but he was tired, and his remaining strength was soon exhausted. On a sudden, the lad's cries were hushed his raised hands fell, and his eyes closed: these signs of insensibility were unnoticed by all,

save one.

"The boy has fainted," cried a squeaking voice; "you'll murder him!"

Everybody looked up at the platform, whence the voice proceeded, and laughed. It was the clown who had spoken. "Put the boy down!" shouted he, descending from the platform and plunging into the crowd, which made a lane for him to pass through, and, in a few moments, he reached the spot where they had laid the fainting lad.

"Fling a bucket o' waiter o'er him, an' he'll oppen his oyes reet quick," said one.

"Let him alone," said the clown excitedly.

"Oh, here be th' funny chap!" exclaimed several voices. "Be he a doctor?" asked a woman, simply.

"Noa; art'ee a foo? He be Merry-Andrew, he be!" returned a bystander.

"Some of you will have to pay dearly for this piece of work," said the clown, feeling the boy's pulse.

There was a suppressed murmur among the crowd; and