“Going circuit is a pleasant diversion, and may be a delightful holiday when the weather is fine and cases few.  I am not speaking of those northern towns where hard labour is the portion of the judicial personage from the time he opens the Commission to the moment when he turns his back upon his prison-house, but of rural Assize towns like Warwick and Bedford or Oakham, where the Judge takes his white gloves, smiles at the grand jury, congratulates them on the state of the calendar, and goes away to some nobleman’s seat until such time as he is due to open the Commission in some other circuit paradise where crime does not enter.

“At Lincoln station on this present occasion there is a goodly crowd outside and in, some well dressed and some slatternly, some bareheaded out of respect to the Judge, and others of necessity, but all with a look of profoundest awe.

“But as they wait the arrival of the train, all hearts are beating to see the Judge.  Alas for some of them! they will see him too soon and too closely.

“Most conspicuous is the fat and dignified coachman in a powdered wig and tam-o’-shanter cap, and the footman with the important calves.  Clustered along the platform, and pushing their noses between the palisade fencing, seem gathered together all the little boys of Lincoln—­that is to say, those who do not live at the top of Steep Hill; for on that sacred eminence, the Mount Zion of Lincolnshire, are the cloisters and the closes, where are situated the residences of Canons, Archdeacons, and other ecclesiastical divinities.  The top of this mountain holds no communion with the bottom.

“On the platform—­for the signal has been given that the judicial train is entering the station—­ranged in due order are the Sheriff of Lincoln, in full robes, his chaplain in full canonicals, and a great many other worthy dignities, which want of space prevents my mentioning in detail.  All are bareheaded, all motionless save those bosoms which heave with the excitement of the occasion.

“Although the chaplain and the Sheriff hold their hats in their hands, it is understood in a well-bred town like Lincoln there will be no cheers, only a deep, respectful silence.

“And so, amid a hush of expectation and a wondering as to whether it’s Orkins, some saying one thing and some another, the train draws slowly in; a respectful porter, selected for the occasion, opens the door, and out leaps—­Jack.

“Then bursts from the crowd a general murmur.  ’There ’e is!  See ’im, Bill!’ cries one.  ’There’s Orkins!  See ’im?  There ’e is; that’s Orkins behind that there long black devil!’

“He was wrong about the black devil, for it was the Sheriff’s Chaplain, who will preach the Assize Sermon next Sunday in the Cathedral.”

[A somewhat humorous scene once took place at Nottingham.  An indefatigable worker on circuit, Sir Henry seemed to have the constitution of the Wandering Jew and the energy of radium.  No doubt he had much more patience than was necessary, for it kept him sitting till the small hours of the morning, and jurors-in-waiting and attendants were asleep in all directions.  He was the only one wide awake in court.