corporation pews, and the young ones care only to get a place whence
they may eye the ladies. And at last there is a silence, and a looking
toward the door, and then distant music, flutes and hautboys, drums and
trumpets, which come braying, and screaming, and thundering merrily
up to the very church doors, and then cease; and the churchwardens
and sidesmen bustle down to the entrance, rods in hand, and there is a
general whisper and rustle, not without glad tears and blessings from
many a woman, and from some men also, as the wonder of the day enters,
and the rector begins, not the morning service, but the good old
thanksgiving after a victory at sea.

And what is it which has thus sent old Bideford wild with that "goodly
joy and pious mirth," of which we now only retain traditions in
our translation of the Psalms? Why are all eyes fixed, with greedy
admiration, on those four weather-beaten mariners, decked out with knots
and ribbons by loving hands; and yet more on that gigantic figure who
walks before them, a beardless boy, and yet with the frame and stature
of a Hercules, towering, like Saul of old, a head and shoulders above
all the congregation, with his golden locks flowing down over his
shoulders? And why, as the five go instinctively up to the altar, and
there fall on their knees before the rails, are all eyes turned to the
pew where Mrs. Leigh of Burrough has hid her face between her hands,
and her hood rustles and shakes to her joyful sobs? Because there was
fellow-feeling of old in merry England, in county and in town; and
these are Devon men, and men of Bideford, whose names are Amyas Leigh of
Burrough, John Staveley, Michael Heard, and Jonas Marshall of Bideford,
and Thomas Braund of Clovelly: and they, the first of all English
mariners, have sailed round the world with Francis Drake, and are come
hither to give God thanks.