nine o'clock in the
morning
Deserved or no , the town rose to the occasion . The High Street was swimming in flags and bunting ; even in Seatown most of the grimy windows showed those little cheap flags that during the past week hawkers had been so industriously selling . From quite early in the morning the squeak and scream of the roundabouts in the Fair could be heard dimly penetrating the sanctities and privacies of the Precincts . But it was the Cathedral bells , pealing , crashing , echoing , rocking , as early as nine o'clock in the morning , that first awoke the consciousness of most of the Polcastrians to the glories of the day . I suppose that nearly all souls that morning subconsciously divided the order of the festival into three periods ; in the morning the Cathedral and its service , in the afternoon the social , friendly , man-to-man celebration , and in the evening , torch-light , bonfire , skies ablaze , drink and love . Certain it is that many eyes turned towards the Cathedral accustomed for many years to look in quite other directions . There was to be a grand service , they said , with `` trumpets and shawms '' and the big drum , and the old Bishop preaching , making , in all probability , his very last public appearance .