"Third Latin class walk up," cried Mr. Wilberforce. The third Latin class walked up, and ranged itself in front of the master's desk. "Who's top of this class?" asked he. "Me, sir," replied the gentleman who owned that distinction. "Who's 'me' sir?" "Me, sir." "Who _is_ 'me,' sir?" angrily repeated the master, his spectacles bearing full on his wondering pupil. "Charles Van Brummel, sir," returned that renowned scholar. "Then go down to the bottom for saying 'me.'" Mr. Van Brummel went down, considerably chopfallen, and the master was proceeding to work, when the cathedral bell tolled out heavily, for a soul recently departed. "What's that?" abruptly ejaculated the master. "It's the college death-bell, sir," called out the up class, simultaneously, Van Brummel excepted, who had not yet recovered his equanimity. "I hear what it is as well as you," were all the thanks they got. "But what can it be tolling for? Nobody was ill." "Nobody," echoed the boys. "Can it be a member of the Royal Family?" wondered the master--the bishop and the dean he knew were well. "If not, it must be one of the canons." Of course it must! for the college bell never condescended to toll for any of the profane vulgar. The Royal Family, the bishop, dean, and prebendaries, were the only defunct lights, honoured by the notice of the passing-bell of Westerbury Cathedral. "Lewis junior," said the master, "go into college, and ask the bedesmen who it is that is dead." Lewis junior clattered out. When he came back he walked very softly, and looked as white as a sheet. "Well?" cried Mr. Wilberforce--for Lewis did not speak. "It's tolling for Henry Arkell, sir." "Henry Arkell!" uttered the master. "Is he really dead? Are you ill, Lewis junior? What's the matter?" "Nothing, sir." "But it is an entirely unprecedented proceeding for the cathedral bell to toll for a college boy," repeated Mr. Wilberforce, revolving the news. "The old bedesmen must be making some mistake. Half of them are deaf, and the other half are stupid. I shall send to inquire: we must have no irregularity about these things. Lewis junior." "Yes, sir." "Lewis junior, you are ill, sir," repeated the master, sharply. "Don't say you are not. Sit down, sir." Lewis junior humbly sat down. He appeared to have the ague. "Van Brummel, you'll do," continued Mr. Wilberforce. "Go and inquire of the bedesmen whether they have received orders; and, if so, from whom: and whether it is really Arkell that the bell is tolling for." Van Brummel opened the door and clattered down the stairs, as Lewis junior had done; and _he_ clattered back again. "The men say, sir, that the dean sent them the orders by his servant. And they think Arkell is to be buried in the cathedral."