the procession moved forward in the direction of the church.

Master Pory having left me, to take his place among his brethren of the Council, and the mob of those who had come to purchase and of the curious idle having streamed away at the heels of the marshal and his officers, I found myself alone in the square, save for the singer, who now descended from the pillory and came up to me.

“Captain Ralph Percy, if I mistake not?” he said, in a voice as deep and rich as the bass of an organ.

“The same,” I answered. “And you are Master Jeremy Sparrow?”

“Yea, a silly preacher, — the poorest, meekest, and lowliest of the Lord’s servitors.”