to the admiration or reprobation of men.  What did they do but react on the society which created them?—­what were they but the average tendencies of an age clad in petticoats or top-boots, as the case might be?  So let it be written, that the great Cosmos-machine had ground itself to the precise point which necessitated a reformatory tumult in Foxden, and it mattered little who happened to be there to patronize it.

For several previous years Miss Hurribattle had borne about her an uncomfortable turbulence of heroic effort.  She had gradually accustomed herself to regard our crooked humanity as something capable of being caught up and reformed by a rapacious philanthropist.  She had reached a mental condition to which the time was as thoroughly out of joint as it ever appeared to Hamlet, although, unlike that impracticable character, she took great comfort in the belief that she was especially born to set it right.  The choice varieties of men know that truth as it is and truth as it appears to them are very different matters.  But, thank Heaven, the feminine nature is bound by no such doleful barrier!  The man who thinks is limited; the woman who feels may expand indefinitely.  Miss Hurribattle’s mission was to attract the world’s capital of unemployed sentiment, and to set it to work in the mills of society.  Let it be said of this woman, that, without wealth of talent or any exact culture, she possessed the sweetest accompaniments of the highest masculine genius,—­enthusiasm and simplicity.

The questioning spirit gradually took form in various radical clubs and associations.  Pleasing themselves with shining symbols, and complimenting each other with antique titles of nobility, a large majority of the Foxden shop-keepers enlisted in the sacred crusade.  This new physical revival, like the old religious revivals, soon got into the schools, and processions of children, fluttering many-colored ribbons, paraded the streets.  There was an Anti-Spirit League and an Anti-Tea-and-Coffee League; also an Anti-Tobacco League was in hopeful process of formation.  And soon professional reformers of most destructive character were attracted to the place, and, having once attached themselves, hung like leeches upon the community.  The celebrated Mrs. Romulus, and the great socialist, Mr. Stellato, snuffing their victims afar off, left their work unfinished in towns of less importance, and hurried to Foxden.  Shrewd wasps were these, bent upon getting up beehives of cooperative activity.  Less and less grew the stanch garrison who must defend the conservative citadel against the daring hordes.  Nevertheless, some boldly stood out, and showed a spirit—­or shall it be said an obstinacy?—­which cowed unpractised assailants.  Deacon Greenlaw had not yet been persuaded to burn his cider-mill,—­although committees of matrons had visited him to ascertain when he proposed to do so,—­although bevies of children had been dressed in white and set upon