as dressed
in much the same manner as that in which I departed from London, having
on, in honour of the day, a shirt perfectly clean, having washed one on
purpose for the occasion, with my own hands, the day before, in the pond
of tepid water in which the newts and efts were in the habit of taking
their pleasure. We proceeded for upwards of a mile, by footpaths through
meadows and corn-fields; we crossed various stiles; at last, passing over
one, we found ourselves in a road, wending along which for a considerable
distance, we at last came in sight of a church, the bells of which had
been tolling distinctly in our ears for some time; before, however, we
reached the churchyard the bells had ceased their melody. It was
surrounded by lofty beech trees of brilliant green foliage. We entered
the gate, Mrs. Petulengro leading the way, and proceeded to a small door
near the east end of the church. As we advanced, the sound of singing
within the church rose upon our ears. Arrived at the small door, Mrs.
Petulengro opened it and entered, followed by Tawno Chikno. I myself
went last of all, following Mr. Petulengro, who, before I entered, turned
round and, with a significant nod, advised me to take care how I behaved.
The part of the church which we had entered was the chancel; on one side
stood a number of venerable old men--probably the neighbouring poor--and
on the other a number of poor girls belonging to the village school,
dressed in white gowns and straw bonnets, whom two elegant but simply
dressed young women were superintending. Every voice seemed to be united
in singing a certain anthem, which, notwithstanding it was written
neither by Tate nor Brady, contains some of the sublimest words which
were ever put together, not the worst of which are those which burst on
our ears as we entered.
"Every eye shall now behold Him,
Robed in dreadful majesty;
Those who set at nought and sold Him,
Pierced and nailed Him to the tree,
Deeply wailing,
Shall the true Messiah see."
Still following Mrs. Petulengro, we proceeded down the chancel and along
the aisle; notwithstanding the singing, I could distinctly hear as we
passed many a voice whispering, "Here come the gypsies! here come the
gypsies!" I felt rather embarrassed, with a somewhat awkward doubt as to
where we were to sit; none of the occupiers of the pews, who appeared to
consist almost entirely of farmers, with their wives, son
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