who, joining the assemblage, called their attention to a priestly train
slowly advancing along the road.

"It is headed," he said, "by Fathers Chatburne and Chester, late bursers
of the abbey. Alack! alack! they now need the charity themselves which
they once so lavishly bestowed on others."

"Waes me!" ejaculated Ashbead. "Monry a broad merk han ey getten fro
'em."

"They'n been koind to us aw," added the others.

"Next come Father Burnley, granger, and Father Haworth, cellarer,"
pursued the monk; "and after them Father Dinkley, sacristan, and Father
Moore, porter."

"Yo remember Feyther Moore, lads," cried Ashbead.

"Yeigh, to be sure we done," replied the others; "a good mon, a reet
good mon! He never sent away t' poor--naw he!"

"After Father Moore," said the monk, pleased with their warmth, "comes
Father Forrest, the procurator, with Fathers Rede, Clough, and Bancroft,
and the procession is closed by Father Smith, the late prior."

"Down o' yer whirlybooans, lads, as t' oly feythers pass," cried
Ashbead, "and crave their blessing."

And as the priestly train slowly approached, with heads bowed down, and
looks fixed sadly upon the ground, the rustic assemblage fell upon their