walked into the cathedral, recounting his adventure.

The youths followed with some difficulty through the stream of
loiterers in the nave, Giles the younger elbowing and pushing so
that several of the crowd turned to look at him, and it was well
that his kinsman soon astonished him by descending a stair into a
crypt, with solid, short, clustered columns, and high-pitched
vaulting, fitted up as a separate church, namely that of the parish
of St. Faith. The great cathedral, having absorbed the site of the
original church, had given this crypt to the parishioners. Here all
was quiet and solemn, in marked contrast to the hubbub in "Paul's
Walk," above in the nave. Against the eastern pillar of one of the
bays was a little altar, and the decorations included St. Julian,
the patron of travellers, with his saltire doubly crossed, and his
stag beside him. Little ships, trees, and wonderful enamelled
representations of perils by robbers, field and flood, hung thickly
on St. Julian's pillar, and on the wall and splay of the window
beside it; and here, after crossing himself, Master Headley rapidly
repeated a Paternoster, and ratified his vow of presenting a bronze
image of the hound to whom he owed his rescue. One of the clergy
came up to register the vow, and the good armourer proceeded to
bespeak a mass of thanksgiving on the next morning, also ten for the
soul of Master John Birkenholt, late Verdurer of the New Forest in
Hampshire--a mode of showing his gratitude which the two sons highly
appreciated.

Then, climbing up the steps again, and emerging from the cathedral
by the west door, the boys beheld a scene for which their
experiences of Romsey, and even of Winchester, had by no means
prepared them. It was five o'clock on a summer evening, so that the