his oratorio of _Saul_. Listen--_poum, poum, prrr, poum_--"

"Be dashed, but you've got it!" cried the Doctor, delighted; "though
you do give it a sort of foreign accent. But I daresay that won't be
so noticeable on the key-bugle."

"But about this key-bugle, monsieur? And the other instruments?--not
to mention the players."

"I've been thinking of that," said Captain Pond. "There's Butcher
Tregaskis has a key-bugle. He plays 'Rule Britannia' upon it when he
goes round with the suet. He'll lend you that till we can get one
down from Plymouth. A drum, too, you shall have. Hockaday's trader
calls here to-morrow on her way to Plymouth; she shall bring both
instruments back with her. Then we have the church musicians--Peter
Tweedy, first fiddle; Matthew John Ede, second ditto; Thomas
Tripconey, scorpion--"

"Serpent," the Doctor corrected.

"Well, it's a filthy thing to look at, anyway. Israel Spettigew,
bass-viol; William Henry Phippin, flute; and William Henry Phippin's
eldest boy Archelaus to tap the triangle at the right moment.
That boy, sir, will play the triangle almost as well as a man grown."

"Then, monsieur, take me to your house. Give me a little food and
drink, pen, ink, and paper, and in three hours you shall have _la
partition_."

Said the Doctor, "That's all very well, Pond, but the church
musicianers can't march with their music, as you told me just now."

"I've thought of that, too. We'll have Miller Penrose's covered
three-horse waggon to march ahead of the coffin. Hang it in black
and go slow, and all the musicianers can sit around inside and play
away as merry as grigs."

"The cover'll give the music a sort of muffly sound; but that,"
Lieutenant Clogg suggested, "will be all the more fitty for a
funeral."

"So it will, Clogg; so it will. But we're wasting time. I suppose
you won't object, sir, to be marched down to my house by the Company?
It's the regular thing in case of taking a prisoner, and you'll be
left to yourself as soon as you get to my door."

"Not at all," said M. Trinquier amiably.

"Then, gentlemen, fall in! The practice is put off. And when you
get home, mind you change your stockings, all of you. We're in
luck's way this morning, but that's no reason for recklessness."

So M. Trinquier, sometime Director of Periodical Festivities to the
Municipality of Dieppe, was marched down into East Looe, to the
wonder and delight of the inhabitants, who had just r