The Restoration brought back a few survivors of the expelled Society of 1642, and with them Gervase Germyn. But in 1664 I find that George Loosemore was master of the College choristers, and Germyn was dead. At what precise date he died I cannot say. But one thing is known. The Chapel, after long neglect and misappropriation, was repaired, decorated and restored to Anglican usage about the year 1663. The reconciliation of the Church was marked by a choral service, and Germyn occupied his old seat at the organ. Among the psalms chosen for the service was the 126th, _In convertendo captivitatem Sion_. The singers had reached the last verse--“He that now goeth on his way weeping and beareth forth good seed: shall doubtless come again with joy and bring his sheaves with him.” There the organ accompaniment faltered, failed, died, and left the choir to chant the _Gloria_ unassisted. The grey head of Gervase Germyn lay on the key-board, and the College had to seek a new organist. The Palladium On an unspecified morning in the year 1026, in the reign of Cnut, king, of happy memory, Aethelstan, abbat of Ramsey, delivered to the monks of his Benedictine household, in chapter assembled, an address which had notable consequences. The reverend father took as the text of his discourse the verse, _in libro Regum tertio_, which in our Authorised Version is expressed--Know ye not that Ramoth in Gilead is ours, and we be still, and take it not out of the hand of the King of Syria? With the ghostly lessons to be drawn from this passage we need not concern ourselves: indeed they were but lightly touched upon by the abbat. He turned almost directly to practical matters. He dwelt feelingly on the palpable evidences of the poverty of their household--the bell-tower of their church, which had fallen in sudden ruin, and which the means of their household did not permit them to rebuild: the indecent sordidness of their chapter-house, within whose mud-built walls they were then assembled: the meagreness of the monastic diet, of which his brethren were the last to complain, but which reflected unfavourably on the coldness of Christian charity in the laity of the neighbourhood. And incidentally he contrasted these conditions with the splendour of the new temple, adorned with goodly stones and gifts, which their beloved friends at Ely had erected since the Danish wars had ended: the ephods of purple and scarlet affected by the ministers in Saint Etheldreda’s church: and the proverbial magnificence of Ely feasts.