their religion from dying out during the heathen months, while the
shepherds of the flocks to which they belonged were away from their empty
folds.

What most helped to keep the place alive all through the year was the
frequent coming together of the members of a certain literary
association. Some time before the tavern took down its sign the landlord
had built a hall, where many a ball had been held, to which the young
folks of all the country round had resorted. It was still sometimes used
for similar occasions, but it was especially notable as being the place
of meeting of the famous PANSOPHIAN SOCIETY.

This association, the name of which might be invidiously interpreted as
signifying that its members knew everything, had no such pretensions,
but, as its Constitution said very plainly and modestly, held itself open
to accept knowledge on any and all subjects from such as had knowledge to
impart. Its President was the rector of the little chapel, a man who, in
spite of the Thirty-Nine Articles, could stand fire from the
widest-mouthed heretical blunderbuss without flinching or losing his
temper. The hall of the old Anchor Tavern was a convenient place of
meeting for the students and instructors of the University and the
Institute. Sometimes in boat-loads, sometimes in carriage-loads,
sometimes in processions of skaters, they came to the meetings in
Pansophian Hall, as it was now commonly called.

These meetings had grown to be occasions of great interest. It was
customary to have papers written by members of the Society, for the most
part, but now and then by friends of the members, sometimes by the
students of the College or the Institute, and in rarer instances by
anonymous personages, whose papers, having been looked over and discussed