Feast week in Rushden is always welcomed by the inhabitants, young and old, and really it seems to make a pleasant break in the year’s work. The date of the feast is particularly opportune, for just when the heat of the summer has passed away, and picnics and holidays are over for the season, the feast comes and puts a finishing touch on the summer’s merry-making. And, above all, this week is the time for family gatherings. Friends and relatives meet after a year’s absence, and spend a jovial time round the family board. Almost every house has its quota of visitors and good housewives vie with each other in the sumptuous fare they place before their friends. Advantage is taken of the feast, too, by many young couples to join hands for the battle of life. Beyond the round, of domestic joys, the public institutions of the town prepare a rich bill of fare for the visitors. On Saturday night the pleasure seekers began to arrive and by seven o’clock the streets were thronged by all sorts and conditions of men, not forgetting women and children. On Sunday, services of a special character were held in nearly all places of worship. Open-air meetings were also held, showing that the different denominations of the town were alive to the responsibilities in connection with much merry-making. The festivities proper commence on Monday. In the fair field were roundabouts, the round of pleasure to juvenile minds – “Aunt Sallies”, shooting saloons, a cinematograph and other amusements too numerous to mention. Besides the usual pleasure-making machines, a motor car was plying through the streets, conveying passengers for shilling rides. The football match in the afternoon drew a large course of people from neighbouring towns and villages, the special rains from Wellingborough and Kettering being crowded. The fair ground in the evening was a perfect Babel. The harmonious and inharmonious strains from a dozen organs, the crack of the rifles at the shooting saloons, the noisy shouts of the ice-cream vendors, the banging sounds of the striking machines, the snorting of the engines, together with the boisterous laughter of the thronging crowd were the accompaniments of a picture worthy of “Vanity Fair.”