If the visitor happens to be a guest of the Court, he will be ushered in by a door leading to the raised dais and will sit at a desk beside the judge. His eye will first be arrested by a small heap on his desk of dried aromatic herbs and rose leaves and, while speculating as to the purpose of these, he will discover similar little piles on the desks of the presiding judge and sheriffs. He will also observe that the carpet of the dais is thickly strewn with the same litter. Vaguely it is suggested that the court room has been used over night for some kind of a horticultural exhibition and that the sweeping has been overlooked. Later, his astonishment, however, is redoubled when enter the sheriffs and the judge each carrying a bright colored bouquet of roses or sweet peas bound up in an old-fashioned, stiff, perforated paper holder. The visitor ventures to whisper his curiosity and he is then informed that, in the former times, these herbs, and the perfume of fresh flowers, were supposed to prevent the contagion of prison fever; and that the ancient custom has survived the use of disinfectants and the modern sanitation of prisoners and cells. The opening of court in the morning and after luncheon is a curious ceremony. The Bar and audience rise and, through a door corresponding to the one by which the visitor has reached the dais, enter the two sheriffs gowned in flowing dark blue robes trimmed with fur. Then comes the under-sheriff in a very smart black velvet knee breeches suit, white ruffled shirt, white stockings, silver buckled shoes, cocked hat under arm and sword at side. The sheriffs bow in ushering to his seat the judge, who is arrayed in wig and robe, which, in the case of the Lord Chief Justice, or one of the judges of the High Court, is of brilliant scarlet with a dark blue sash over one shoulder, or in the case of the Common Sergeant, is of sombre black. Each member of the court carries the bouquet referred to and the whole group afford a dash of color strong in contrast with the dark setting. The judge, having seated himself in a chair--so cumbersome as to require a little track to roll it forward sufficiently close to the desk--the sheriffs dispose themselves in the seats not occupied by the judge or his guest, and, later, they quietly withdraw. They have no part in the proceedings, their only function being to usher in and out the judges, and to entertain them at luncheon--the judges being by custom their guests. The judge having taken his seat, the Bar and public do the same and the business begins. There are usually two such courts sitting at the Old Bailey--sometimes three of them.