minutes
into a jocund peal, and tumbling head over heels in ecstasies of joy.
Bideford streets are a very flower-garden of all the colors, swarming
with seamen and burghers, and burghers' wives and daughters, all
in their holiday attire. Garlands are hung across the streets, and
tapestries from every window. The ships in the pool are dressed in all
their flags, and give tumultuous vent to their feelings by peals of
ordnance of every size. Every stable is crammed with horses; and
Sir Richard Grenville's house is like a very tavern, with eating
and drinking, and unsaddling, and running to and fro of grooms and
serving-men. Along the little churchyard, packed full with women,
streams all the gentle blood of North Devon,--tall and stately men, and
fair ladies, worthy of the days when the gentry of England were by due
right the leaders of the people, by personal prowess and beauty, as well
as by intellect and education. And first, there is my lady Countess of
Bath, whom Sir Richard Grenville is escorting, cap in hand (for her good
Earl Bourchier is in London with the queen); and there are Bassets
from beautiful Umberleigh, and Carys from more beautiful Clovelly, and
Fortescues of Wear, and Fortescues of Buckland, and Fortescues from all
quarters, and Coles from Slade, and Stukelys from Affton, and St. Legers
from Annery, and Coffins from Portledge, and even Coplestones from
Eggesford, thirty miles away: and last, but not least (for almost all
stop to give them place), Sir John Chichester of Ralegh, followed
in single file, after the good old patriarchal fashion, by his eight
daughters, and three of his five famous sons (one, to avenge his
murdered brother, is fighting valiantly in Ireland, hereafter to rule
there wisely also, as Lord Deputy and Baron of Belfast); and he meets
at the gate his cousin of Arlington, and behind him a train of four
daughters and nineteen sons, the last of whom has not yet passed the
town-hall, while the first is at the Lychgate, who, laughing, make way
for the elder though shorter branch of that most fruitful tree; and so
on into the church, where all are placed according to their degrees, or
at least as near as may be, not without a few sour looks, and shovings,
and whisperings, from one high-born matron and another; till the
churchwardens and sidesmen, who never had before so goodly a company to
arrange, have bustled themselves hot, and red, and frantic, and end by
imploring abjectly the help of