ked; and immediately behind
them a funeral herald in black, walking very upright and stiff, with a
bell in one hand which he rang, while he cried out in a great mournful
bellowing voice:

"Remember Justice Godfrey! Remember Justice Godfrey;" and then pealed
upon his bell again. (It was pretty plain from that that we Catholics
were to bear the brunt of all, as usual!)

Behind him came a terrible set of three. In the midst, led by a groom,
was a great white horse, with bells on his bridle sounding as he came;
and on his back an effigy, dressed in riding costume, with boots, and
with white riding gloves and cravat all spattered over with blood. His
head lolled on his shoulders, as if the neck were broken, turning a pale
bloody face from side to side, with fallen jaw and great rolling
melancholy eyes; for this was of Justice Godfrey. Beside him walked a
man in black, that held him fast with one hand, and had a dripping
dagger in the other--to represent a Jesuit. This was perhaps the worst
of all; but there was plenty more to come.

There followed, after Justice Godfrey, a pardoner, dressed as a priest,
in a black cope sown all over with death's heads, waving papers in his
hands, and proclaiming indulgences to all Protestant-killers, so loud
that he might be heard at Charing Cross; and next behind him a fellow
carrying a silver cross, that shone very fine in the red light of the
bonfire and the flambeaux, and drew attention to what came after. For
behind him came eight Religious, Carmelites and Franciscans, in the
habits of their Orders, going two by two with clasped hands and bowed
heads as if they prayed; and after them that which was, in intention,
the centre of all--for this was a set of six Jesuits in black, with lean
painted faces, each bearing a dagger which he waved, gnashing his teeth
and grinning on the folks.

There had been enough roaring and cheering before; but at this sight
the people went near mad; and I had thought for an instant that the very
actors would be torn in pieces for the sake of the parts they played.

Mr. Martin and his wife were close beside me in the window; and I turned
to them.

"We are fortunate not to be Jesuits," I said, "and known to be such. Our
lives would not be worth a pin."

He nodded at me very gravely: and I saw how white was his wife's face.

When I looked again a very brilliant group was come into view--four
bishops in rochets and violet, with large pectoral crosses. The