of which this story treats--and I can assure you you might live in a
less privileged city--it is possible that, on the morning following the
above events, your peaceful slumbers might have been rudely broken by a
noise, loud enough to waken the seven sleepers of Ephesus.

Before seven o'clock, the whole school, choristers and king's scholars,
assembled in the cloisters. But, instead of entering the schoolroom for
early school, they formed themselves into a dense mass (if you ever saw
schoolboys march otherwise, I have not), and, treading on each other's
heels, proceeded through the town to the lodgings of the judges, in
pursuance of a time-honoured custom. There the head-boy sent in his
name to the very chamber of the Lord Chief Justice, who happened this
time to have come to the Helstonleigh circuit. "Mr. Gaunt, senior of
the college school"--craving holiday for himself, and the whole fry who
had attended him.

"College boys!" cried his lordship, winking and blinking, as other less
majestic mortals do when awakened suddenly out of their morning sleep.

"Yes, my lord," replied the servant. "All the school's come up; such a
lot of 'em! It's the holiday they are asking for."

"Oh, ah, I recollect," cried his lordship--for it was not the first
time he had been to Helstonleigh. "Give one of my cards to the senior
boy, Roberts. My compliments to the head-master, and I beg he will
grant the boys a holiday."

Roberts did as he was bid--he also had been to Helstonleigh before with
his master--and delivered the card and message to Gaunt. The
consequence of which was, the school tore through the streets in