"
The young and good-humored Childe laughed merrily. He bethought him
of the reason of his mistake: his garments had shrunk from being
five-and-twenty miles under water.
But one remedy presented itself to his mind; and that we need not
say was to purchase new ones. Inquiring the way to the most genteel
ready-made-clothes' establishment in the city of Cologne, and finding
it was kept in the Minoriten Strasse, by an ancestor of the celebrated
Moses of London, the noble Childe hied him towards the emporium; but you
may be sure did not neglect to perform his religious duties by the way.
Entering the cathedral, he made straight for the shrine of Saint Buffo,
and hiding himself behind a pillar there (fearing he might be recognized
by the archbishop, or any of his father's numerous friends in Cologne),
he proceeded with his devotions, as was the practice of the young nobles
of the age.
But though exceedingly intent upon the service, yet his eye could not
refrain from wandering a LITTLE round about him, and he remarked
with surprise that the whole church was filled with archers; and he
remembered, too, that he had seen in the streets numerous other bands
of men similarly attired in green. On asking at the cathedral porch
the cause of this assemblage, one of the green ones said (in a jape),
"Marry, youngster, YOU must be GREEN, not to know that we are all bound
to the castle of his Grace Duke Adolf of Cleves, who gives an archery
meeting once a year, and prizes for which we toxophilites muster
strong.
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