The top of
this mountain holds no communion with the bottom.
"On the platform--for the signal has been given that the judicial
train is entering the station--ranged in due order are the Sheriff of
Lincoln, in full robes, his chaplain in full canonicals, and a
great many other worthy dignities, which want of space prevents my
mentioning in detail. All are bareheaded, all motionless save those
bosoms which heave with the excitement of the occasion.
"Although the chaplain and the Sheriff hold their hats in their hands,
it is understood in a well-bred town like Lincoln there will be no
cheers, only a deep, respectful silence.
"And so, amid a hush of expectation and a wondering as to whether it's
_Orkins_, some saying one thing and some another, the train draws
slowly in; a respectful porter, selected for the occasion, opens the
door, and out leaps--Jack.
"Then bursts from the crowd a general murmur. 'There 'e is! See 'im,
Bill!' cries one. 'There's Orkins! See 'im? There 'e is; that's Orkins
behind that there long black devil!'
"He was wrong about the black devil, for it was the Sheriff's
Chaplain, who will preach the Assize Sermon next Sunday in the
Cathedral."
[A somewhat humorous scene once took place at Nottingham. An
indefatigable worker on circuit, Sir Henry seemed to have the
constitution of the Wandering Jew and the energy of radium.
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