judges. The high sheriff sat opposite to them, his chaplain by his
side, in his gown and bands. A crowd of gentlemen, friends of the
sheriff, followed on horseback; and a mob of ragamuffins brought up the
rear.

To the assize courts the procession took its way, and there the short
business of opening the commission was gone through, when the judges
re-entered the carriage to proceed to the cathedral, having been joined
by the mayor and corporation. The sweet bells of Helstonleigh were
still ringing out, not to welcome the judges to the city now, but as an
invitation to them to come and worship God. Within the grand entrance
of the cathedral, waiting to receive the judges, stood the Dean of
Helstonleigh, two or three of the chapter, two of the minor canons, and
the king's scholars and choristers, all in their white robes. The bells
ceased; the fine organ pealed out--and there are few finer organs in
England than that of Helstonleigh--the vergers with their silver maces,
and the decrepit old bedesmen in their black gowns, led the way to the
choir, the long scarlet trains of the judges held up behind: and places
were found for all.

The Rev. John Pye began the service; it was his week for chanting. He
was one of the senior minor canons, and head-master of the college
school. At the desk opposite to him sat the Rev. William Yorke, a young
man who had only just gained his minor canonry.

The service went on smoothly until the commencement of the anthem. In
one sense it went on smoothly to the end, for no person present, not
even the judges themselves, could see that anything was wrong. Mr. Pye
was what was called "chanter" to the cathedral, which meant that it was
he who had the privilege of selecting the music for the chants and