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 When Charles the First 
 was King. 
 
 ^y J' 'S' Fletcher^ 
 
 Author of " The Winding Way,'' '' Andrew Una," 
 ''Mr. Spivey's Clerk," etc. 
 
 In Three Volumes. 
 Vol. I. 
 
 London : 
 
 Richard Bentley & Son, 
 
 Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen. 
 
 1892. 
 
 (All rights reserved.)
 
 
 ss 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. 1. 
 
 I. Of the Land I live in ... ... i 
 
 II. Of my Family, Friends, Neighbours 
 
 AND Enemies ... ... 21 
 
 III. Of my First Meeting with Rose Lisle 42 
 
 IV. Of Philip Lisle and his Good Horse 
 
 C^SAR ... ... ... 61 
 
 V. Of my First Going to School ... 79 
 
 VI. Of the Dispute in the Market-place 100 
 
 ^ VII. Of our coming from York ... ... 119 
 
 ^ VIII. Of the Sorrow that came after 138 
 
 n5^ IX. Of the Passage of Many Years ... 157 
 
 J^ X. Of my coming of Age ... ... 172 
 
 XL Of my Second Meeting with Rose 
 
 ■ 3^ Lisle ... ... ... ... 188 
 
 - XII. Of the First Tidings of War ... 205 
 
 ^ XIII. Of Philip Lisle's Call to Arms ... 221 
 
 ^n
 
 iv Contents. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XIV. Of the Disturbance in Pontefract 
 
 Market-place ... ... 240 
 
 XV. Of our Escape from the Magis- 
 trate's Custody ... ... ... 259 
 
 XVI. Of our Flight from that Neighbour- 
 hood ... ... ... ... 276
 
 WHEN CHARLES THE FIRST 
 WAS KING. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OF THE LAND I LIVE IN. 
 
 T may be thought by some, who from 
 prejudice or ignorance are not in a 
 position to judge properly of the matter, that 
 there is nothing in this part of England 
 which is worth writing of or describing, so 
 strange are the views held by outsiders of us 
 Yorkshiremen, so peculiar the ideas which 
 many people have respecting our land, people, 
 and manners. There is an impression beyond 
 our borders that we are never so happy as 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 Of the Land I live in. 
 
 when engaged in a horse-dealing transaction, 
 and it is quite true that we are fond of trade 
 in that direction, and bad to overreach when 
 it comes to a question of hard bargaining. 
 Nevertheless, it is not true that we think of 
 nothing else but horse-dealing, any more 
 than that our county — or, at least, some 
 parts of it — is not to be compared for 
 natural beauties with other shires which 
 have achieved more fame in that way. I 
 have heard travelled men discourse of the 
 fine scenery and beautiful landscapes of 
 Cumberland and Westmoreland, and of the 
 oTandeur of Devon and Cornwall, not to 
 speak of Derbyshire and some parts of 
 Wales, comparing divers districts of these 
 to the country in Switzerland and Italy, 
 which is, I understand, as fair as anything 
 this earth can show ; but, in spite of that, 
 it has always seemed to me that our own 
 three Ridings can exhibit as many pleasing 
 prospects as man need wish for ; so that a
 
 Of the Land I live in. 
 
 Yorkshireman casting his eyes upon them 
 must needs thank God that he has been 
 placed to Hve his life amongst such delect- 
 able spots. For we have hill and valley, 
 and broad tracts of luscious meadow-land 
 where you may feed a thousand head of 
 cattle and never hurt the luxuriance of the 
 grass, and our rivers are comparable for 
 quiet beauty with Trent or Severn, and our 
 rocky defiles are oftentimes as wild as any- 
 thing that you will meet in Scotland or 
 Cumberland. Then, again, our seaboard is 
 such as few countries can show the like of, 
 consisting as it does of rough promontory 
 and rocky headland, joined with long 
 stretches of brown sand, across which the 
 North Seas waves come tumbling cold and 
 icy from Norroway. Nay, when I begin 
 to think in good earnest of the matter, and 
 to remember what I have seen in other days 
 — for I have travelled somewhat myself — I 
 am certain that for diversity of scenery you
 
 Of the Land I live in. 
 
 may roam the wide world over and never 
 find a country so fair, so rich in Nature's 
 gifts, so pleasing to the eye as my native 
 Yorkshire. 
 
 And of all parts of this broad-acred land 
 there is none which I so much love or 
 admire as that in which the greater portion 
 of my life hath been spent, though I indeed 
 have seen the whole of the three Ridings, 
 from Cronkley Fell to Featherbed Moss, 
 and from Flamborough Head to Bowland 
 Forest. There is a fine beauty about the 
 dales of the North Riding, and I have seen 
 sights upon the lonely wolds of Cleveland 
 and Ryedale which did inspire me with 
 feelings of awe and great wonder. And I 
 have heard artists who understood these 
 matters say that amongst those dales and 
 hills there are scenes which not all the world 
 can show the equal of, Howbeit I am no 
 artist, though loving a good picture, but 
 only a simple yeoman born and bred on the
 
 ^ Of the Land I live in. 5 
 
 land, and never so happy as when breathing 
 in the fresh air of a spring morning as it 
 steals to your nostrils over the breadth of a 
 new-ploughed field ; and so, when it comes 
 to a question of comparison between these 
 districts, I give the palm to the broad 
 meadow-lands and deep woods and gentle 
 undulations of that corner of the West 
 Riding where first I saw the light, where I 
 have passed the greater part of my life to 
 this present time, where, please God, I shall 
 die and lie at peace. 
 
 If you will take your chart of Yorkshire 
 and draw with your pen a straight line from 
 Doncaster to Wakefield, from Wakefield to 
 Wetherby, from Wetherby to York, from 
 York to Goole, and from Goole to Doncaster 
 again, you will have enclosed the tract of 
 land of which I have spoken. I question if 
 you can find throughout the length and 
 breadth of England a similar piece of country 
 more rich in historical associations, more
 
 Of the Land I live in. 
 
 odorous of national life, more beautiful in its 
 own quiet way. Here we have no great 
 mountains, no rushing rivers, no awesome 
 valleys, but the land rolls along in richness 
 of wood and stream, thorpe and hamlet, the 
 grey spires and towers of village churches 
 rising heavenward here and there, the red 
 roofs of farmsteads, the tall gables of manors 
 and halls peeping from the great groves of 
 elm and beech and chestnut which stud the 
 land everywhere in prodigal luxuriance. 
 Right through this land runs the Great 
 North Road like a silver streak, straight and 
 direct, so that as I stand at my door o' 
 nights I can hear the carriers' waggons 
 rumbling north and south, and the quick 
 gallop of horses hurried on by post-boys 
 fearful of highwayman and footpad, of whom 
 in this year of grace, 1686, there are still 
 many left amongst us. Branching from this 
 noble highway go roads right and left, 
 making communication between our villages
 
 Of the Land I live in, 
 
 and market-towns easy, and being in a 
 general way of speaking well kept. Right 
 merry market-towns, too, are they of which 
 I speak, and not to be put down by any of 
 their fellows in England. For there is 
 merrie Wakefield, with its bridge and chapel, 
 where battles have been fouo^ht, and a kincr's 
 son foully slain, and where in old times bows 
 were made of right good Yorkshire ash or 
 willow ; and there is Pontefract, with its 
 great castle, now falling into ruins, and its 
 mighty Church of All Saints, and half a 
 score of ancient religious houses ; and there 
 is Selby, with its glorious Abbey, whose 
 towers and pinnacles you may see for many 
 a square mile round about ; and there is 
 Wetherby, and Snaith, and Sherburn, and 
 Thorne, each a fair market-town ; and there 
 is Goole, whence along the Ouse and 
 Humber go ships even to the ports of 
 Holland ; and at the southern point there 
 is Doncaster, breathing the air and spirit
 
 8 Of the Land I live in. 
 
 of English freedom ; and at the northern 
 there is York, the proud and beautiful city, 
 whose great Minster looks forth across the 
 embattled walls upon the broad lands beyond, 
 like a fair mother watching her children. 
 And between these market-towns, fenced in 
 by wood and stream and meadow, and em- 
 bowered in leafy hedgerows, stands many 
 a smiling village and hamlet, with its old 
 church and great manor or castle standing 
 in the midst of broad parks and pleasaunces. 
 Here and there, too, you may come across 
 some homestead standing alone in its 
 meadows and closes, and yet never so far 
 from a village that its occupants are entirely 
 neighbourless. A fair land and a rich it is, 
 and dear to me, as I have already said, 
 because it bore and nursed me, and has 
 smiled upon me, year in, year out, when 
 human eyes did not smile, comforting me 
 by its very beauty when life seemed dark 
 and inexplicable.
 
 Of the Land I live 
 
 IN. 
 
 It was within four miles of the ancient and 
 historic market-town of Pontefract, where 
 kings have been imprisoned and done to 
 death, that I, WilHam Dale, yeoman, was 
 born in the year of grace 1621. The house 
 wherein I first drew breath is that in which 
 I now live ; I trust in God it may shelter 
 me to the end, and my children and grand- 
 children after me, for a rio^ht Q^ood house of 
 stone it is, and was new tiled the year I 
 came to man's estate, by Geoffrey Scholes, 
 the mason, of Campsall, who did good and 
 honest work in whatsoever he undertook. 
 As for situation, it lieth somewhat lonely, 
 but at a good altitude, and the air round 
 about it is exceedingly clear and pleasant 
 to breathe. It stands on the left-hand side 
 of the highway as you go from Doncaster 
 to Ferrybridge, and is distant exactly one 
 and a half mile from the cross roads at 
 Darrington and about three-quarters of a 
 mile from Wentbridee. There is no house
 
 lo Of the Land I live in. 
 
 stands near it — save one or two cottages 
 that I builded for convenience sake, it being 
 somewhat of a long way for the men to walk 
 from the neighbouring villages, and the road 
 nothing like safe o' dark nights — neverthe- 
 less, we have never felt afraid of harm, albeit 
 we were visited more than once in the 
 troublous times by robbers, who thought to 
 take advantage of our lonely position. 
 However, they were but ill-requited for 
 their pains, two of the rascals carrying away 
 nothing better than a charge of lead in their 
 persons, and the third being shot stone dead 
 by my cowherd, Jacob Trusty, as he was 
 striving to make forcible entry into the 
 pantry window. Yet lonely indeed is the 
 situation of Dale's Field, and some more 
 used to company might fear the long winter 
 evenings which we spend here. No feeling 
 of this sort ever came over myself, who 
 knew that all around me lay my own good 
 land, nigh four hundred acres of it, grass
 
 Of the Land I live in. i i 
 
 and arable, of which my fathers had reaped 
 the harvest for many a generation. Dales 
 of Dale's Field there have always been since 
 William the Conqueror came over ; God 
 knows whether there always will be, for I 
 •have seen ancient families dwindle away and 
 vanish root and branch, so that even my 
 own good old stock may possibly in time die 
 out, and our homestead vanish from the face 
 of the earth, and our acres, for which we 
 have more than once stood much hard con- 
 test, even to blood-shedding, be swallowed 
 up in the estates around them.* 
 
 I have said that Dale's Field stands at a 
 good altitude, which is indeed a grateful 
 truth. For standing at my door of a clear 
 
 * William Dale's fears on this ground were ultimately 
 realized. There is now no trace of house or farmstead 
 on the spot where he and his forefathers lived, and their 
 acres are swallowed up in the neighbouring estates. 
 Nevertheless, so strongly do old associations cling to the 
 soil which reared them, that the meadows and closes 
 there are called Dale's Fields to this day.
 
 12 Of the Land I live in. 
 
 evening, and looking east and north-east, I 
 can behold the two great hills rising up near 
 Selby, the one called Hambleton Haugh, the 
 other Brayton Barugh, and beyond them the 
 long nave and high tower of Selby Abbey 
 itself. Between me and them stretches a 
 wide country of wood and meadow, which I 
 am never tired of gazing upon in the summer 
 evenings when I sit in my window with pipe 
 and glass. For it seems to smile and smile 
 and smile, and the green of the woods blends 
 with the brown of the soil, and the clear blue 
 overhead looks down on both with a smile 
 of benediction. Somewhat of a fiat land it 
 is, that country due east, but none the less 
 fair, seeing that it holdeth many a fair village, 
 whose spires shoot upwards out of the green 
 and stand clearly defined against the sky. 
 To the northward, too, we can see a fair 
 distance, where the high ground rises beyond 
 Ferrybridge and Brotherton, over whose 
 slopes the road climbs on its way to York.
 
 Of the Land I live in. 
 
 A prospect of this sort is always most grate- 
 ful to us who are born on the soil, and more 
 to be preferred, because of its peaceful 
 character and gentle undulations, than the 
 bolder scenery which you will find in our 
 northern dales. Nevertheless, if I am 
 minded to look upon more diversified pros- 
 pects, I am not far removed from such, for 
 across my home meadows lies the Vale of 
 Went, than which I never saw aught more 
 picturesque in all our land. A beautiful 
 valley and a charming it is, as you would 
 say did you but enter it at Church Smeaton, 
 or even further east, and follow it to the 
 hamlet of Wentbridge, where it widens and 
 spreads itself out in the broad meadow-lands 
 that stretch at the foot of the long rise of 
 ground called Went Hill. Along this valley 
 is much diversity of scenery, for sometimes 
 the sides slope gently towards each other, 
 and sometimes they are dark and rocky and 
 frown with beetling masses of grey crag.
 
 14 Of THE Land I live in. 
 
 and here and there are wild and barren, 
 and in other places they are covered with 
 luxuriant woods and groves of fir and pine. 
 Nought fairer than Went Vale have I ever 
 seen, especially as it presents itself in the 
 early days of June, when all the 'trees are 
 in leaf and the birds sing, sing, sing from 
 morning till night, and the little stream of 
 Went runs babbling along to join the Don 
 some twenty miles away. Many a twist and 
 turn does Went make as it flows through 
 the valley. Now it is straight and placid, 
 as between the mill-house and the bridge, 
 and anon it winds in and out in capricious 
 fashion, so that there is one spot where I 
 have often stood and hurled a stone that 
 crossed the stream five times in the one 
 throw. Wealth, too, it hath of birds'-nests, and 
 many a time have I tumbled down its rough 
 and gnarly crags or from the yielding branches 
 of its trees when hunting for the haunts of 
 magpie and jackdaw, thrush and blackbird.
 
 Of the Land I live in. 15 
 
 If you will look at your chart again you 
 will find that my farmstead of Dale's Field 
 is removed but little space from the head of 
 Went Hill. How many times have I stood 
 there in the early morning, when the valley 
 beneath was full of mist, the long banks of 
 which dispersed as the sun rose and shone 
 upon the land ! A fair prospect it is from 
 Went Hill top, for in the wide valley 
 beneath lie villages and hamlets and manors 
 that relieve the eye from the long stretches 
 of brown and green. Across the vale rises 
 Upton Beacon, where they lighted the great 
 bonfire when the Spanish Armada came to 
 attack us. Beneath it lies the hamlet of 
 Thorpe, and a mile away the square tower 
 of Badsworth Church rises from the thick 
 woods that shut that village in. Further 
 away, in the direction of Wakefield, lie 
 Nostell and Wragby and Hems worth, and 
 many another fair village, and nearer at 
 hand, to the northward, stand Ackworth and
 
 t6 Of the Land I live in. 
 
 East Hardwick. Right at the head of the 
 valley, and just peeping round the corner of 
 the hill, is the village of Carleton, where for 
 a brief season slept Oliver Cromwell and 
 General Fairfax during the time of the siege 
 of Pontefract Castle. And beyond Carleton, 
 situate on high ground that shuts in the 
 head of the valley like an amphitheatre, is 
 Pontefract itself, its Church of St. Giles, in 
 the market-place, standing out bold and 
 distinct against the sky. 
 
 Now, to stand upon the summit of Went 
 Hill and behold the prospect from thence 
 is always a pleasant matter, for there is the 
 land to look upon, and the villages, and 
 the meadows are full of grazing cattle, and 
 the sheep are feeding busily adown the 
 hillside, and there is a manner of thanks- 
 giving in the air which did always affect my 
 heart mightily, though why it should do so 
 I know not, having never in my life been 
 given to rhyming or reading of rhymes, savj
 
 Of the Land I live in. 17 
 
 only Mr. William Shakspere's folio of plays 
 which my father did buy in York when I 
 was but a lad. But of a Sunday evening 
 when, the light lasting till a late hour, they 
 did use to sing Evensong in the parish 
 churches at six instead of three, as in winter 
 and autumn, I have often stood there with 
 bowed and bared head listening reverently 
 to the bells which sounded from all sides of 
 me. Far across the valley were the bells of 
 Pontefract and Ackworth and Badsworth, 
 ringing out their peal with regular swing, 
 and the bells of Darrington sounded over 
 the hilltop, and those of Womersley sent 
 their sound across the level land, and some- 
 times in the deep silence that followed when 
 these were still, I caught the last faint 
 tinkle of the bells of Smeaton making music 
 across the woods and meadows. A beauti- 
 ful and a holy sound it was, and raised 
 in me a solemn feeling which not all the 
 exhortations of Master Drumbleforth, our 
 
 VOL. I. 2
 
 1 8 Of the Land I live in. 
 
 parson, could ever produce, though he 
 indeed at one time did talk much and long 
 to me of my soul's health, when it seemed 
 as if my condition needed it. 
 
 It is amidst these scenes that my life hath 
 been spent, and it is from them that what 
 I have to tell must gain interest, if interest 
 there can be in a plain chronicle of the 
 doings of a simple farmer, whose lot it has 
 been to live in somewhat troublous times 
 and be dragged into the concerns thereof 
 sorely against his will. It would best have 
 suited me, as it suited my fathers before 
 me, to have lived my life on the land 
 undisturbed, to have had no greater matters 
 to think of than the ploughing of the twelve- 
 acre or the sowing of early wheat, to have 
 taken no further journey than to York or 
 Doncaster, and to have been free from 
 affairs of State and difficulties of lawyers' 
 making. Howbeit, Providence, which hath 
 many things to provide for, ordained tha<^
 
 Of the Land I live in. 19 
 
 my life for awhile was to be neither quiet 
 nor ordinary, and did hustle and bustle me 
 hither and thither like one of my own 
 haycocks In a gale of wind. For in my 
 earlier days I saw what no honest English- 
 man cares to see, namely, the country 
 divided against Itself, Englishman fighting 
 with Englishman, Parliament against the 
 Monarchy, so that oftentimes father fought 
 against son, and brother with brother, and 
 the land was alive with Roundheads and 
 Cavaliers, and peaceable citizens knew not 
 what to make of things, and battles were 
 fought, and the throne pulled down, and 
 they laid siege to Pontefract Castle and 
 dismantled It, and cut off the king's head 
 before his own palace of Whitehall, at which 
 sad business I, William Dale, was present, 
 and have to this day a memento of, to wit, 
 a kerchief steeped in His Majesty's blood. 
 And In these declining years of my life — 
 though I am, thank God, as hale and hearty
 
 20 Of the Land I live in. 
 
 a man as you will find in the three Ridings 
 — I am minded, chiefly through the per- 
 suasions of my daughter Dorothy, who is 
 fond of her book, to write down with such 
 small skill as I have or she can lend me, 
 somewhat concerning my adventures in 
 those evil days that came upon us in the 
 middle of this present century.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 OF MY FAMILY, FRIENDS, NEIGHBOURS AND 
 ENEMIES. 
 
 T would appear most fitting to the 
 proper usages that, before going 
 further, I should tell you something about 
 our family and the mode of life we kept in 
 my younger days, and also some particulars 
 of our neighbours and friends, and likewise of 
 our enemies, of whom you will hear no little 
 before this history closes. And to begin 
 with my own family first — we Dales are of 
 an ancient race, and have lived at Dale's 
 Field certainly since the time of the Con- 
 quest, and, I doubt not, even before that.
 
 22 Of my Family, Friends, etc. 
 
 That we are proud of our ancient birth and 
 of the fact that age after age we have tilled 
 our own land, goes without saying. It Is, 
 I think, an innocent pride, and not of the 
 nature of that vainglory which we are com- 
 manded as good Christians to eschew. 
 
 There were four of us In family at Dale's 
 Field : my father, John Dale ; my mother, 
 Susannah Dale ; my sister Lucy, and myself. 
 To speak of my father first. He was a 
 great man, a man of tall stature and broad 
 shoulders, and his face was of the colour of 
 a rising sun, red and healthy, and tanned 
 with exposure to wind and rain and summer 
 heat. A right hearty man he was, and 
 was never known to refuse his meals. 
 A healthy appetite, indeed, he always had, 
 as most men have who, like him, are out of 
 their beds and about their business ere ever 
 Sol hath risen from the eastern horizon. 
 Up and about was he at five In summer and 
 six in winter, and would roundly rate any
 
 Of my Family, Friends, etc. 23 
 
 man that came to stall or stable a minute 
 later than those hours. For he himself was 
 abed by nine o' the clock, and could not 
 understand why a man wanted more than 
 eight hours' sleep. Once up, he would 
 bustle about from, stable to mistal, from 
 barn to rickyard, urging on his men with 
 cheery voice or honest scolding — for he was 
 a scrupulously fair master, and praised or 
 blamed as need arose — and seeing the day's 
 labour fairly commenced, until half- past 
 seven, when breakfast was served in our 
 great kitchen, and master and men sat down 
 together. A custom, indeed, it hath always 
 been in our family, and one which I have 
 religiously preserved, for all under the roof 
 to eat together, according to their various 
 station of life. Thus my father and mother 
 sat at a cross-table with Lucy and myself, 
 and the men were placed in order at long 
 tables set out on either side of the great 
 kitchen. Nor did the meat served at our
 
 24 Of my Family, Friends, etc. 
 
 table differ from that served at our servants', 
 for it was my father's opinion that master 
 and man, who shared the toils of the land, 
 should also share the produce thereof, where- 
 fore no man of ours was ever stinted of beef 
 or beer or bread. 
 
 My father's mode of life was as simple and 
 regular as well could be. After breakfast — 
 whereat he always drank no more than a 
 quart of small ale, holding that no one 
 should drink much liquor before noon — he 
 went forth to ride round his fields, mounted 
 on a little white mare named Dumpling, 
 which was an animal of exceeding strength 
 though low stature. How many miles he 
 had ridden upon Dumpling, I know not ; 
 yet Jack Drumbleforth, our parsons son, 
 did once compute it at some thousands. 
 Nor was Jack far out in his reckoning, for 
 my father and Dumpling were used to turn 
 out of the yard as the kitchen clock struck 
 nine, and did not appear again until noon,
 
 Of my Family, Friends, etc. 25 
 
 the intervening hours being passed in riding 
 up one field and down another, or in canter- 
 ing along the road to Darrington to give an 
 order to blacksmith or carpenter. After 
 dinner in the great kitchen, my father would 
 smoke a pipe in my mother s parlour, and 
 drink a glass of strong waters, and maybe 
 fall asleep for the space of half an hour, after 
 which he would arise and shake himself, and 
 go forth and mount Dumpling once more 
 and ride out amongst his men. And at 
 supper-time he would talk to my mother of 
 the day's doings and the weather, and would 
 then smoke more tobacco — which habit was 
 then becoming popular — and drink ale out 
 of his own silver flagon, and at nine o'clock 
 would lock up his house and go to bed, 
 where he slept, as he himself hath often 
 said, without dream or even turning over, 
 until the cocks began to crow in the yard 
 outside. 
 
 Upon Saturdays it was my father's custom,
 
 26 Of my Family, Friends, etc. 
 
 having eaten a larger breakfast than usual, 
 to attire himself in his second-best suit of 
 clothes, and make ready to ride into Ponte- 
 fract market. There were times when my 
 mother went with him, and then the light 
 cart was brought out of the shed, and 
 Dobbin, the brown horse, harnessed in the 
 shafts, for Dumpling would never abide 
 other gear than a saddle. When my father 
 went alone, however. Dumpling was extra 
 well groomed, and wore the new bridle and 
 stirrups, and the two departed about ten 
 o'clock, my father carrying little bags of 
 wheat or barley samples in his pockets, to 
 show to them that dealt in such matters. 
 Other produce which went to market, or 
 stock like cattle or sheep, was taken thither 
 by Jacob Trusty or Timothy Grass earlier 
 in the morning. All day long would my 
 father remain at market, dining at the 
 farmers' ordinary, and when business was 
 done remaining an hour longer to drink with
 
 Of my Family, Friends, etc. 27 
 
 his friends and acquaintance. Nevertheless, 
 he always strove to arrive at his home ere 
 night fell, for the road was here and there 
 of a lonely nature, and there were dangerous 
 characters abroad. 
 
 Once, indeed, coming home from Ponte- 
 fract market, my father did light upon an 
 adventure which had been like to put an end 
 to him for ever. It chanced that Jacob 
 Trusty, our cowherd, had that day driven 
 four and twenty young beasts to market, 
 and there my father speedily sold them to 
 Richard Myles, the butcher, who paid him 
 for the same openly in the street. And as 
 they were counting the money my father 
 took notice of two evil-looking men, habited 
 like north country cattle-drovers, who hung 
 about in the crowd and cast longing glances 
 at Dick Myles's bag of money. Howbeit, 
 he lost sight of them and thought no more 
 upon the matter. But riding homewards, 
 between the cross roads at Darrin2:ton and
 
 28 Of my Family, Friends, etc. 
 
 Dale's Field, and being come to the great 
 plantation which occurs 'twixt the mile- 
 stones, two men mounted did suddenly ride 
 out of the trees, and commanded him to 
 halt and deliver. Whereupon, Dumpling, 
 responding, shot out like an arrow and flew 
 homewards, and my father, bending low 
 over her shoulders, heard two bullets whistle 
 above his head. And the men following 
 hard, it became a question whether or not 
 they would come up to him before Dale's 
 Field was reached. More than one shot 
 did they fire, but Dumpling galloped fast, 
 and outstripped the taller brutes ridden by 
 the highwaymen. But when the yard gate 
 was reached the pursuers were almost upon 
 them, and if it had not been that my mother 
 heard the unwonted clatter of Dumpling's 
 feet, my father had been slain at his own 
 door. Howbeit, she, hearing the commo- 
 tion, opened the house-door, and my father 
 leaping off, entered, bringing Dumpling with
 
 Of my Family, Friends, etc. 29 
 
 him, and barred the door behind them. 
 And while Dumphng and my mother, the 
 one trembhng and all of a lather, and the 
 other frightened and fearful, stood in 
 the great kitchen, my father took down his 
 fowling-piece and ran upstairs, and there 
 from a little window did let fly at the men 
 to such purpose that one of them screamed 
 and reeled, and both rode off as hard as 
 their brutes could carry them. And the 
 next morning there was blood on the paving 
 of the yard, so that we judged that the 
 villains had received more than they ever 
 wished to have. 
 
 As for my mother, Susannah Dale, she 
 was the daughter of Master Richard Chal- 
 loner, the corn miller of Ackworth, who 
 left her a tidy portion at his death. She 
 was a tall, fine woman, well suited to marry 
 such a man as my father, of whom indeed 
 she cherished a great affection, as he did 
 of her, both thinking there was no such
 
 30 Of my Family, Friends^ etc. 
 
 husband or wife in all the land. A capital 
 housewife she was, and had a manner of 
 preserving plums which was famous for 
 twenty miles around, so that it became usual 
 to say of a fresh-looking old man or woman 
 that he or she was as well-conserved as 
 Mistress Dale's damsons. For the other 
 matters which appertain to good housewifery 
 she had a natural turn, and found great 
 occasion of delight in curing hams and 
 flitches, and rearing poultry of various sorts, 
 in making up butter into curious devices, 
 and in seeing that the apples, pears, plums, 
 apricots, and gooseberries were properly 
 attended to. There was never a weed in 
 the kitchen garden, and she would never 
 have slept at night if she had not previously 
 seen with her own eyes that the hen-roost 
 and pigeon-cote were secured from the foxes, 
 who are always prowling round to see what 
 they can pick up. Nor was there ever a 
 weaklv calf that she did not nurture with
 
 Of my Family, Friends, etc. 31 
 
 new milk, feeding it with spoon or quill 
 until it seemed likely to do for itself. As 
 for sewing, and mending, and making of 
 new garments, she was indefatigable at it, 
 and had always her knitting in her hand 
 as she sat by the wood fire in her parlour, 
 which was an exceeding pleasant apartment 
 where all the conserves were kept, and the 
 white table linen and napery, of which she 
 had much store, and the six silver forks 
 given to her by her father at her marriage, 
 with other matters, over which she loved 
 to keep a vigilant watch. Also in that 
 chamber there was a deep window-seat, 
 filled with plants in scarlet-coloured pots, 
 which she watered and tended every morn- 
 ing. And over against my mothers chair, 
 in which no one else ever sat, there was 
 fixed an oaken shelf, made by our carpenter, 
 which held certain books, her own property, 
 out of which she read much. There was 
 the Bishop s Bible, and King James's Bible,
 
 32 Of my Family, Friends, etc. 
 
 which they had just begun to sell, and 
 there was Mr. Francis Quarles's ''Pentalogia, 
 or the Quintessence of Meditation," and 
 Raphael Holinshed's " Chronicle," and 
 *' Purchas, his Pilgrimage," and Pattenham's 
 *' Art of English Poesie," and the *' Compleat 
 Farrier," out of which my mother was wont 
 to read a cure for horse or cow tempo- 
 rarily afflicted, and there was Mr. William 
 Shakspere's Plays, and Master Latimer's 
 *' Sermons on the Ploughers," and various 
 others, all of which she read, being a great 
 scholar in her way. But my father read 
 little, save a chapter in the Bible every 
 Sunday night ; nevertheless, he was a great 
 admirer of my mother's learning, and did 
 often say that there was no clerk in the 
 archdiocese of York who knew more of 
 book-craft than she did. And indeed she 
 did often divert us in the long winter even- 
 ings by reading to us out of Mr. Shakspere's 
 folio, which she accomplished in a manner
 
 Of my Family, Friends, etc. 33 
 
 so remarkable that we were moved to tears 
 or laughter as the case might be, over the 
 woes or humours of Hamlet and Ophelia, 
 Romeo and Juliet, Sir John Falstaff and 
 Mrs. Page. At these times my father would 
 get so interested that he would conceive 
 the matter to be real, and if there came a 
 fight or an argument would shout forth his 
 council to the side he favoured. 
 
 Although our situation at Dale's Field was 
 somewhat lonely and retired, we were not 
 without company. For the village of Dar- 
 rington, as I have already told you, lieth 
 but a mile and three quarters along the 
 highway, and to Darrington Church we were 
 accustomed to proceed every Sunday morn- 
 ing, wet or fine, hot or cold, throughout the 
 year, my father holding that attendance upon 
 Divine Service was good preparation for the 
 coming week. A pleasant walk indeed it 
 was in summer, between the tall hedgerows 
 and under the shadow of the ancient trees 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 34 Of my Family, Friends, etc. 
 
 that line the roadside, and we were ac- 
 customed to look forward to it. Upon 
 reaching the village we were used to meet 
 with a stream of villagers going church- 
 wards, with some of whom, our acquaintances, 
 we fell in, discoursing of various matters 
 until we came to the churchyard, where the 
 people always fell into groups to wait the 
 arrival of the vicar. A pretty sight it was 
 — the old, worn church in the background, 
 the groups of boys round the ancient sun- 
 dial over against the porch, the farmers in 
 their best, chatting soberly about the 
 harvest prospects, their wives discoursing 
 domestic affairs, the young maidens, very 
 gay as to their garments, smiling and 
 whispering amongst themselves, and the 
 young men eyeing the maidens. Then 
 there were old men and old women, 
 who came slowly up the paths and blessed 
 everybody they spoke to, and somewhere 
 about the porch hovered the parish
 
 Of mv Family, Friends, etc. 35 
 
 constable, with his appurtenances of office, 
 striking terror into the hearts of all who 
 were naughtily disposed. And high above 
 these groups sounded the music of the 
 bells, of which there are three. These, 
 we always thought, did use to say, " Come 
 to church, come to church, come to church," 
 but Jacob Trusty, our cowherd, said that 
 they inquired, "Who beats us, who beats us, 
 who beats us ? " However, they made fine 
 jangling music, and could be heard right 
 away at Dale's Field, ere ever we set out 
 down the road. 
 
 At five minutes to eleven two of the bells 
 ceased ringing, and the third rang all alone 
 imtil the hour. Then did late-comers, hear- 
 ing the solitary bell, hurry their movements, 
 and then did the Reverend Nathaniel 
 Drumbleforth, our parson, come through 
 the vicarage garden and approach the 
 churchyard. A fine figure, too, he made 
 of a Sunday morning, being habited in
 
 36 Of my Family, Friends, etc. 
 
 o 
 
 cassock, and gown, and bands, and wearing 
 his best silver buckles and four-cornered 
 cap, and the bow he would make to the 
 assembled groups, as he passed between 
 them, was as fine as anything you can see 
 at court. To be sure, he was a college 
 man, and had much learning, and had, it 
 was even said, once written a learned work, 
 so that it was only likely he should excel 
 in courtliness. And when he had greeted 
 us all and we him, he led the way into 
 church and put his surplice on, and went 
 into the reading-desk, and Thomas Cludde, 
 the sexton, made ready to give due answer, 
 and the bell ceased ringing above, and the 
 service began with ** Rend your hearts and 
 not your garments." 
 
 As for myself, in my younger days I 
 was chiefly occupied during the time of 
 Divine Service in thinking about other 
 matters. For there were matters which 
 did more easily claim a lad's attention than
 
 Of my Family, Friends, etc. 37 
 
 the reading and discoursing of Parson 
 Drumbleforth, such as the performance of 
 the village musicians, who sat in the chancel 
 and played hymn tunes, and the flying 
 about of the swallows and sparrows, who 
 came in through the open windows and 
 twittered in the beams overhead. Like- 
 wise, in summer and spring, there came to 
 our ears from the meadows outside the 
 humming of bees and countless insects, who 
 were flitting from flower to flower, mingled 
 with the lowing of cattle and occasional 
 neighing of horses. These things necessarily 
 distracted my attention — to wit, I used to 
 wonder if there were eggs or fledglings in 
 the swallow's nest which I could see under 
 the arch of the chancel, or if the sparrows 
 were still building in the tower, or if that 
 were Farmer Denby's roan cow that mooed 
 so loudly under the western window. To 
 the musicians I gave great heed, for their 
 performance was considered very fine. There
 
 38 Of my Family, Friends, etc. 
 
 was amongst them a violin, first and second, 
 and a double bass, a couple of flutes, and 
 a serpent, and when they were minded to 
 exert themselves they made a brave show, 
 and the hymns went trippingly. 
 
 When Parson Drumbleforth ascended the 
 pulpit and gave forth his text, our church- 
 wardens were used to take up their rods of 
 ofifice and leave the church for a visit to the 
 two ale-houses. This Indeed is a time- 
 honoured observance, and one that no 
 churchwarden worthy the name will ever 
 forego. For the churchwarden, bearing in 
 mine that every able-bodied man should, in 
 duty to God and the king, present himself 
 at Divine Office, must, when sermon begins, 
 assume his rod and go forth to see that no 
 idler tarrleth drinking and carousing in the 
 taverns. It hath been said by persons of a 
 suspicious nature that the wardens are not 
 above taking a mug of small ale themselves 
 when on these visits, but that Is neither here
 
 Of my Family, Friends, etc. 39 
 
 nor there, for their vocation is one of much 
 arduous duty, and small ale hurteth no man. 
 However, when they have visited the inns 
 and haled forth any that linger there, they 
 return to the church, where the parson is 
 just finishing his discourse, and do assist, 
 if need be, in whatever matter is to be 
 attended to. 
 
 Very often, upon a Sunday, one or other 
 of our neighbours at Darrington would 
 accompany us home to Dale's Field, and 
 share our dinner, remaining afterwards to 
 smoke a pipe of tobacco with my father. 
 And about once a week came Parson 
 Drumbleforth to sup with us, and discourse 
 upon the crops and news from London, 
 which were great occasions, and served to 
 relieve the monotony in which we had other- 
 wise lived. Then, too, there were always 
 farmers, or drovers, or cattle-dealers upon 
 the road, and these would come in for half 
 an hour and refresh themselves, so that we
 
 40 Of my Family, Friends, etc. 
 
 were not without news of the great world, 
 which was also communicated to us by the 
 passing coaches, post-chaises, and chariots 
 continually hastening to or from London 
 and York. Now and then my mother 
 would take Lucy and myself, and pay a visit 
 of ceremony to some farmer's wife at 
 Darrington or Wentbridge, upon which 
 occasions we were used to play with the 
 children of the house, and explore their 
 orchards, and gardens, and buildings, though 
 we never saw any so good as our own at 
 Dale's Field. 
 
 As for enemies, we had none save the 
 Watsons of Castle Hill, who were yeomen 
 like ourselves, and had been on the land 
 and in deadly feud with the Dales for many 
 a century. Never did a Dale speak to a 
 Watson unless provoked thereto by anger or 
 wrong done, and then the word was as oft 
 as not accompanied by a blow. And the 
 cause of dispute was this — between our land
 
 Of my Family, Friends, etc. 41 
 
 and that of the Watsons lay a broad strip of 
 moorland, over which each family claimed 
 a right, to the exclusion of the other. 
 When, as often happened for years, neither 
 house strove to take possession of the 
 debateable piece of ground, matters were 
 quiet between them, but when one drove 
 thereon a herd of cattle or flock of sheep, 
 then arose a conflict and hot argument, and 
 heads were broken. So it had continued to 
 be for many a generation, and so it was 
 when I came into the world, so that people 
 made the matter a proverb, and spoke of 
 far removed things as being as widely 
 separated as a Dale and a Watson. But 
 out of that ancient feud and the ill blood 
 and evil passions it engendered much misery 
 was to result, as I shall show ere this story 
 be brought to an end.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 OF MY FIRST MEETING WITH ROSE LISLE. 
 
 PON a certain fine afternoon In the early 
 spring of 1 63 1, dinner being well over, 
 and my father smoking his pipe in the chim- 
 ney corner, while my mother was busied else- 
 where on some matter of domestic importance, 
 I went out into the fold, and there came 
 across Jacob Trusty, our cowherd, who was 
 just then feeding twelve fat beasts intended 
 for an approaching cattle-fair at Wakefield. 
 And having nought to do I approached 
 Jacob with a view of hearing him talk. 
 Many an hour, indeed, had I spent with 
 Jacob Trusty in and about the farmstead.
 
 My First Meeting with Rose Lisle. 43 
 
 listening to his stones of bygone days, of 
 which he carried a various collection in his 
 mind, side by side with much legendary lore 
 concerning ghosts, fairies, and hobgoblins. 
 My mother, to be sure, said that Jacob was 
 never so content as when talking to me, 
 which perhaps was a natural thing, seeing 
 that he had nursed me on his knee almost as 
 soon as I was born, and had always mani- 
 fested a great interest in my doings. Never- 
 theless, to most other people Jacob Trusty 
 was as cross-grained and surly as man well 
 can be, and was hardly ever known to give a 
 civil answer to any that made inquiry of him. 
 He was even accustomed to give advice to 
 my father, and to comment upon what things 
 were done on the farm ; and this, my father 
 said, must be excused in Jacob, because he 
 had been, man and boy, at Dale's Field for a 
 matter of fifty-three years, and had fed the 
 cattle in our fold under three Dales. A tall, 
 powerfully fashioned man was Jacob Trusty,
 
 44 My' First Meeting with Rose Lisle. 
 
 with a great stoop in his broad shoulders, 
 and a somewhat large nose which stood out 
 of his face between the roundest and reddest 
 cheeks that ever man had. As for his attire, 
 it was always the same : a long smock that 
 reached below his knee, and a round cap 
 which was secured to his head by a woollen 
 scarf that came over his ears, and was tied 
 beneath his chin. From underneath his 
 smock peeped Jacob's grey stockings, termi- 
 nating in large boots of undressed leather, 
 the soles of which were of such prodigious 
 thickness as to make me wonder. When 
 Jacob's duties took him to market at Ponte- 
 fract or Wakefield, he added no more to his 
 accustomed garb than a scarlet neckcloth 
 which he had once bought of a mercer in 
 York. With this round his neck, and his 
 thick ash cudgel in his hand, Jacob con- 
 sidered himself fit for the best company in 
 the land. 
 
 Upon this particular afternoon, Jacob
 
 My First Meeting with Rose Lisle. 45 
 
 Trusty, when I drew near, was engaged In 
 throwing a cart-load of turnips into the shed 
 wherein his twelve fat cattle were then 
 chained. Seeing me approach, he left off 
 his work, and leaned both hands on the head 
 of his four-pronged fork, looking waggishly 
 at me across the turnip-heap. 
 
 ** Well, Master William," said Jacob 
 Trusty. 
 
 ''Well, Jacob," said I. 
 
 '' Hast had a good dinner, William ? " 
 inquired Jacob. 
 
 "Very good, Jacob," I answered. 
 
 "That's well, William. For if there be 
 one thing to thank the Lord heartily for, 'tis 
 a good appetite. Beef, lad, and beer; sound, 
 home-brewed beer, is what a Dale wants, for 
 the Dales are always big, great-boned men, 
 and need support. Thy grandfather now — 
 ah, what a man was that ! " 
 
 ** What ! bigger than father, Jacob ? " 
 
 *' Od, man, ay, by two inches all ways.
 
 46 My First Meeting with Rose Lisle. 
 
 Natheless, thy father will do — only thou 
 wilt be a bigger man than he is by an inch. 
 At least, if thou dost thy duty with cup and 
 trencher. Ah, as for good ale, well, there 
 was never ale like ours at Dale's Field. I 
 have been through the Riding, and should 
 know." 
 
 Jacob wiped his mouth with his hand, and 
 stuck one prong of his fork into a turnip 
 that betrayed an intention to roll down the 
 hill. On beholding Jacob's hand pass across 
 his mouth, I knew what he wanted. 
 
 '' Shall I fetch you a pot of ale, Jacob ? " 
 said I. 
 
 ''Why," said Jacob, meditatively, "a 
 quart had I at dinner-time, and yet I do feel 
 drouthy." 
 
 Whereupon I went to the pantry, where 
 my mother was counting out a sitting of 
 eggs for the speckled hen to hatch, and 
 begged a pot of ale for Jacob Trusty, the 
 which I got with very little trouble, Jacob
 
 My First Meeting with Rose Lisle. 47 
 
 being an old and valued servant, and 
 deserving of little comforts now that he was 
 getting into years. *'Ah/' said Jacob, 
 leaning against the tail of his cart, and re- 
 moving the pewter from his mouth. ** That 
 does me a power o' good, William. What 
 a pity 'tis that the Lord in His mercy didn't 
 make all the rivers run good ale ! What 
 beautiful drinking there would ha' been then." 
 
 " But you couldn't make ale without water, 
 Jacob ; and then, if the rivers ran ale, what 
 would the cattle do ? " 
 
 " Ah, what, indeed ! " answered Jacob. 
 " Poor ignorant creatures ! Mind thee, 
 William, lad, as thou goest through the 
 world thou wilt see this difference 'twixt 
 Christians and heathen men, namely, that 
 the Christian man drinketh his ale like a 
 man should, while your heathen cannot away 
 with it! What did not Will Stripe, that 
 went to the wars from Badsworth village, 
 and did travel almost to the world's end,
 
 48 My First Meeting with Rose Lisle. 
 
 come back and tell us in the alehouse there, 
 that he had been In lands where there was 
 no ale to be had ? Wherefore, be thankful, 
 lad, that thou art a Yorkshireman. As for 
 me, I have lived on good ale, and true-fed 
 beef, and wheaten bread, and am now sixty- 
 and-eight years old, come Martinmas, and 
 a strong man." 
 
 Whereupon he tossed off his pot, and, 
 putting it down, turned to the turnips, and 
 began to fling them into the shed with such 
 energy that the air was dark with them, and 
 the twelve fat oxen tugged at their chains in 
 fear. 
 
 '' An I were thee, Master William," sud- 
 denly said Jacob Trusty, looking up from his 
 task, and leaning his double-chin meditatively 
 upon the cross-bar of his fork — '' an I were 
 thee, I should go a bird's-nesting this fine 
 afternoon." 
 
 *' Bird's-nesting, Jacob ! Why, there aren't 
 any yet, are there ? Isn't it too early ? "
 
 My First Meeting with Rose Lisle. 49 
 
 " Hist, lad ! Dost know the old sheep- 
 fold in Went Vale yonder ? I saw a storm- 
 cock's nest in the elm above it a week since. 
 There will be eggs in that, I doubt not. 
 Mind " 
 
 But I was gone. I had not been a bird's- 
 nesting that year, for it was but the second 
 or third wxek in March, and with us the 
 birds do not generally nest before April, 
 saving the storm-cock, or missel-thrush, as 
 some call it, which builds in March, so that 
 when Jacob spoke of the matter I was fresh 
 and eager, and crossed the fold and was 
 over the wall and running across the home 
 meadows ere he could tell me to mind not 
 to break my neck, with which counsel all his 
 information usually ended. 
 
 It was a beautiful day, one of those perfect 
 days which come in spring, and make us 
 thank God for very joy of life. As I ran 
 across the meadows that lie between Dale's 
 Field and the head of Went Vale, I noticed 
 
 VOL. I. 4
 
 50 My First Meeting with Rose Lisle. 
 
 that the grass wore a brighter green, that 
 the hedgerows were beginning to bud, that 
 the ash and elm were already starting into 
 new life, and that everything was foretelling 
 the new arrival of what Master Herrick the 
 poet calls ** the sweet o' the year," Yea, 
 as I ran alongside a great hedge seeking some 
 convenient gap or opening, I became aware 
 of the odour of violets, which Is, I think, the 
 most beautiful scent that ever delighted a 
 man's nostrils. And eager as I was to get 
 forward to the old sheepfold, I could not but 
 stop on smelling the violets, and gather a 
 few. Only a country-bred lad, indeed, could 
 find them so quickly as I did, for mark you, 
 the violets are a modest and retiring people, 
 and love to hide themselves from the 
 common eye. So you must turn up the 
 glossy broad leaves which cover their retreat, 
 and push aside the brambles under whose 
 protection they love to grow, and then you 
 will find them, heavenly blue and fragrant,
 
 My First Meeting with Rose Lisle. 51 
 
 nestling under the hedges Hke tender children 
 that dread the rough world. And not only 
 violets did I find that afternoon, but also 
 early primroses, whose pale yellow faces met 
 me as soon as I entered the wood. And at 
 seeing them I laughed aloud for joy, for it is 
 a saying with us that spring is fairly come 
 when primroses flower. And, laughing and 
 singing, I went through the woods that 
 stretch along the right bank of Went, 
 making a posy of violets and primroses, and 
 thinking how pleased my mother would be 
 when I took them to her, and how she 
 would put them in a jar of fresh water, and 
 place them in the window-sill of her own 
 chamber. For we country folk, though 
 some might not think it of us, are fond of 
 the flowers and blossoms that are all about 
 our homes, and do make as much of our first 
 primrose or violet as a town-bred fine dame 
 will of a rare jewel. 
 
 With the blue sky peeping at me through 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILUNOIS
 
 52 My First Meeting with Rose Lisle. 
 
 the trees, and the crying of new-born lambs 
 (true and blessed sign that spring is come 
 again) in my ears, I went along the woods. 
 I passed above the mill at Wentbridge, 
 where the stream was pouring through the 
 wheel-house like a cataract, and turned by 
 a steep path towards the old sheepfold, 
 which w^as a rough place of four walls and a 
 thatched roof, where we had kept sheep at 
 such times as they were out at pasture in the 
 valley just beneath. There was a clearing 
 all round the sheepfold, and this was hedged 
 in from the wood by a straggling belt of 
 trees, amongst which the most prominent 
 was a great elm that had once been struck 
 by lightning, and had since only blossomed 
 m a few of its boughs. And it was in the 
 thick of these, where the fresh green shoots 
 were just beginning to bud, that I espied 
 the storm-cock's nest of which Jacob Trusty 
 had told me. 
 
 Now, I had never yet been daunted in the
 
 My First Meeting with Rose Lisle. 53 
 
 matter of climbing tree or tower, and as for 
 fear, I knew not what it was, nevertheless 
 I paused and meditated before climbing the 
 elm that afternoon. For the storm-cock, 
 wise beyond his station, had fixed his house 
 where the boughs were not strong enough to 
 bear me or any boy capable of climbing. 
 Nevertheless, I was not to be easily worsted, 
 and spying a bough underneath the nest from 
 which it seemed probable that I should be 
 able to reach over, I took off cap and coat 
 and began to climb up the rough trunk of 
 the elm. This part of the business was easy 
 enough, for a quantity of ivy grew round 
 that elm, and the twisted strands made good 
 purchase. Likewise, it was easy enough, 
 when, having done with the ivy, I clambered 
 out along the bough towards the spot where 
 the nest hung swaying in the twigs above. 
 But being arrived there I came to a stand- 
 still, for the nest was a good foot above the 
 full stretch of my arm, and therefore out of
 
 54 My First Meeting with Rose Lisle. 
 
 my reach. This disconcerted me for a time, 
 but I had made up my mind to carry home 
 an egg in triumph, and therefore cast about 
 for fresh means. And nothing seeming 
 better than to lay hold of an overhanging 
 bough, and swing myself up to the level of 
 the nest, I seized upon one that hung con- 
 veniently, and proceeded to climb it hand over 
 hand, my body meanwhile swinging In mid-air, 
 in what my mother, had she been there, 
 would have considered a dangerous fashion. 
 And dangerous indeed it proved to be, for 
 I had no sooner got to the level of the nest 
 and peeped over and seen four eggs lying 
 therein, than my right hand slipped, and I 
 went tumbling through branch and bough 
 with a great noise, and came to earth with 
 such a prodigious bump that my eyes 
 flashed fire, and my senses went clean away 
 from me. 
 
 It was perhaps due to the thickness of 
 my skull and the strength of my neck and
 
 My First Meeting with Rose Lisle. 55 
 
 shoulders that I was preserved from broken 
 bones, for in faUing I had turned clean 
 over, and so pitched right upon my crown, 
 just as a cat will always fall upon her feet. 
 However, my head is a thick and somewhat 
 wooden one, and after a time I sat up, and 
 by dint of hard rubbing brought back my 
 wits to their proper place, not without a 
 feeling that they had else gone a wool- 
 gathering, and a knowledge that my fore- 
 head and neck ached as though I had fallen 
 from the church tower. Yet I minded the 
 aches and pains not so much as that the 
 storm-cock's nest still hung swaying in the 
 branches high above me. For I had never, 
 since being first put into breeches, liked to 
 be beaten in anything, and I now reflected 
 that the storm-cock had proved itself my 
 master. 
 
 While I sat rubbing my head, and 
 wondering what Jacob Trusty would say 
 to my tumble, I heard a sound which made
 
 56 My First Meeting with Rose Lisle. 
 
 me pause and listen. It was the voice of a 
 girl singing in the wood close by, a pure, 
 sweet, clear voice, though childish, and the 
 words it sang were these : 
 
 '^ Spring is coming o'er the hill ! 
 Primrose pale and dafifodil, 
 
 Daisies white and rosy, 
 Now are springing from the soil. 
 Tread ye lightly, lest ye spoil 
 
 My Lady's posy. 
 
 " Bring me, from some mossy stone, 
 Violets that all alone 
 
 Burst to perfect flower. 
 These, with snowdrops pure and white, 
 "Wet with morning's dew, shall light 
 
 My Lady's bower ! " 
 
 Now as this song went on, the sounds came 
 nearer and nearer, and at length I saw, 
 coming up the path by which I had climbed 
 towards the sheepfold, a girl who carried a 
 little basket of primroses and violets in one 
 hand, and swung her little hood in the other. 
 She saw me not as she came along the 
 path, for I lay there still as any mouse,
 
 My First Meeting with Rose Lisle. 57 
 
 wondering who she might be. But when 
 she came into the clearing and looked round 
 her, she espied me, and stopped short as she 
 was beginning another verse of her song. 
 And so there we were, neither saying aught, 
 but both staring wide-eyed at each other. 
 And now if I were a poet or a spinner of 
 fine words, such as they use in Courts and 
 fashionable places, I might perhaps tell you 
 with justice how my dear love, as she came 
 to be in after years, looked upon that after- 
 noon when I first set eyes upon her. For 
 though she was then but a child of eight 
 years old, she was already so bewitching 
 that I could not but gaze at her with some- 
 thing like wonder in my lad's heart. She 
 was like Little Red Riding Hood in the 
 fairy tale, for her hood, swinging loosely 
 from her tiny brown hand, was red, and the 
 little cloak above her grey, homespun gown, 
 was red, and she had dainty scarlet shoes 
 upon her feet such as I had never seen.
 
 58 My First Meeting with Rose Lisle. 
 
 As for her face, it was dark and gipsy-like, 
 and her hair, black as night, tumbled loosely 
 on each side, and fell across her shoulders ; 
 and her eyes, large and wondering as she 
 looked at me, were darker than her hair. 
 Yet can I give no true account of her with 
 words, for it would need the brush of some 
 great painter to represent her as she seemed 
 to me then, and as I remember her to 
 this day. 
 
 Now when we had looked at each other 
 for some minutes I tried to rise to my feet. 
 But the buzzing in my head was by no 
 means gone, and I was no sooner up than 
 down again. Wherewith my new acquaint- 
 ance cast down her basket and ran to me, 
 and looked at me with pitying eyes. 
 
 '' Oh," cried she, '' you are hurt, poor 
 boy ! " 
 
 "Nay," quoth I, "'tis nought. I have 
 tumbled from higher trees than yon elm." 
 
 But she stayed not to hear me, but seized
 
 My First Meeting with Rose Lisle. 59 
 
 upon my cap and ran away, and presently 
 came back with water in it, with which she 
 wet my forehead Hke any skilled nurse, all 
 the time telling me to lie still lest in rising 
 I grew sick and fainted away. Howbeit, I, 
 like all lads, grew restive under female 
 treatment, and presently rose and put on 
 my jacket, and gave myself a mighty shake 
 and felt right again, save for a slight ache 
 in the back of my head. And this done, I 
 stood looking at the little maiden, saying 
 nothing, but wondering a good deal. 
 
 " And now," quoth she, *' take hold of my 
 hand, else you will fall again going down 
 the path." 
 
 But I laughed and shook my head. '' I 
 am all right now," said I, and glanced up 
 at the storm-cock's nest, half minded to try 
 it again. But my head was still running 
 somewhat, and I made a vow to come back 
 next day, so that if I fell once more there 
 should be none to witness my defeat.
 
 6o My First Meeting with Rose Lisle. 
 
 '' What is your name ? " said the little 
 maid, presently. 
 
 ''William Dale; and my father's name is 
 William Dale too, and we live at Dale's 
 Field," said I. '' What is yours ? " 
 
 '' Mine is Rose Lisle." 
 
 " LislQ ? There are no Lisles here- 
 abouts," said L '' Where do you come 
 from ? " 
 
 " From a long way off — near London. 
 Father brought me on his horse to Went- 
 bridge two days since, and in a day or two 
 he will come and take me away again." 
 
 Now, I know not why, but when Rose 
 Lisle said that she was going away, there 
 was a feeling of regret came into my heart. 
 For indeed, I had never seen aught like her 
 before, and might never, for aught I knew, 
 see aught like her again.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 OF PHILIP LISLE AND HIS GOOD HORSE C^SAR. 
 
 AM going to find primroses," said 
 Rose, picking up her basket. 
 
 '' I know where they grow," said I. 
 '' Come along, and I will show you the best 
 places." 
 
 And so we went through the wood, gay 
 as the spring air that breathed upon us, and 
 talking childlike about ourselves and our 
 fathers and of such matters as children best 
 love to dwell on. And presently the shy- 
 ness wore off and we ran along hand in 
 hand amongst the trees, and I showed her 
 where I had climbed the crags for the jack-
 
 62 Of Philip Lisle and his Horse C/ESar. 
 
 daw's nest, and took her to the bank of the 
 Went at the place where you can throw a 
 stone across five times In one cast, and from 
 thence we wandered down stream to the 
 mill, where the miller and his men peered 
 at us through a mist of dusty whiteness, and 
 the Went ran howling through the great 
 wheel and fled away in thick circles of 
 spume. And I told her about our farm of 
 Dale's Field, and how many horses we had, 
 and how many cattle and sheep, with many 
 particulars concerning Dumpling the pony, 
 and Jacob Trusty, and Timothy Grass, and 
 other matters upon which I loved to talk. 
 She, in return, told me that she lived in a 
 town a long, long way off, as indeed it must 
 have been, seeing that it was but an hour's 
 ride from London itself. As for mother, or 
 sister, or brother, she had none, nor ever 
 remembered having, nor any other relation 
 save her father, who was called Philip Lisle, 
 and had business that took him much from
 
 Of Philip Lisle and his Horse C^sar. 63 
 
 home. And at Barnet, which was where 
 they Hved, they stayed with Mistress Good- 
 fellow, who, said Rose, was an old woman, 
 and sometimes cross-grained. But her father, 
 she said, was the most admirable man that 
 ever lived, for he could sing and dance, and 
 play music upon several instruments, and tell 
 stories and legends, so that when he was at 
 home they were as happy as the day is long. 
 But sometimes, she said, he was away a long 
 time, and she was lonely until he came again, 
 bringing her various rare things which he 
 had found in his travels, and then they were 
 happy once more. And now and then he 
 took her with him when the weather was 
 fine, she riding before him on his great 
 horse, and he telling her stories of the fine 
 houses they passed, or the dark woods 
 through which they rode. Much did she 
 tell me too about her father's horse, which 
 understood him when he talked to It as if it 
 had been a Christian, and would follow him
 
 04 Of Philip Lisle and his Horse C^sar. 
 
 about, and ate bread and sugar out of his 
 hand, and had more than once saved his Hfe, 
 though how she did not know. 
 
 In discourse Hke this Rose Lisle and I 
 passed the afternoon, and I forgot the ache 
 in. my head in listening to her conversation. 
 But as it drew near supper-time I was forced 
 to leave her, and said good-bye to her with 
 much regret, and she went down the lane 
 into Wentbridge while I climbed the valley 
 slope and went across the meadows home. 
 And though I told Jacob Trusty about my 
 tumble from the elm tree, yet I said nothing 
 either to him or to my sister Lucy about 
 Rose Lisle. Only I thought much about 
 her, and wished that she was going to stay 
 in our neighbourhood, so that Lucy and 
 myself might take her with us when we 
 went birds' -nesting, or blackberrying, or 
 nutting. 
 
 Upon the next afternoon I set off again to 
 the old sheepfold, determined to climb the
 
 Of Philip Lisle and his Horse C^sar. 65 
 
 elm with success. But I left Lucy at home, 
 not being minded to let any one see me 
 tumble down again. However, as fortune 
 would have it, the storm-cock escaped once 
 more ; for I had no sooner got into the 
 woods above Wentbridge Mill than I met 
 Rose Lisle, who was once more gathering 
 the primroses that were now springing up in 
 every nook and corner. And so through 
 the woods we went, as on the previous day, 
 and rambled in and out all the afternoon 
 until we came to the mill again, where we 
 stood beside the stream and watched the 
 bits of stick and twig race by. 
 
 While we stood there I became aware of 
 some one calling to us, and looking across 
 the stream saw a man on horseback, at sight 
 of whom Rose raised a glad cry. 
 
 '' 'Tis my father ! " said she. '' Will Dale, 
 'tis my father. Let us run round by the 
 mill-bridge." 
 
 But I saw that the man was going to leap 
 
 VOL. I. 5
 
 66 Of Philip Lisle and his Horse C^sar. 
 
 his horse across the stream, which is there 
 about twenty feet in width. And calHng to 
 us to stand where we were, he turned his 
 horse about and brought him at the Went, 
 and the great brute tucked up his thighs 
 and came clear across with a motion like 
 a swallow flying. The man gave him an 
 encouraging pat as he dismounted, and 
 throwing the bridle loose, took Rose in his 
 arms and lifted her up and kissed her. 
 
 " Well, my princess ! " said he. " Here is 
 thy father back again, safe and sound once 
 more. Thy cheeks are the rosier, my 
 beauty, for thy little outing." 
 
 And then he kissed her again on both 
 chejeks, and I saw his eyes sparkle as if it 
 were a great delight to him to see Rose 
 again. He was a tall, fine man, this Philip 
 Lisle, and looked Hke the sort that order 
 and command other men naturally. His 
 greatness was not of the sort that I was 
 familiar with, for he was not like my father —
 
 Of Philip Lisle and his Horse Cesar. 67 
 
 tall and broad and big in every way, but 
 rather slender and elegantly fashioned, and 
 more like a willow-wand than an oak-tree. 
 Nevertheless, there was that in his face 
 which gave an impression of power ; and I 
 could not help noticing that his hands, which 
 were very white and shapely, were also tense 
 as bands of steel when he grasped anything. 
 Looking at him I no longer wondered that 
 Rose was dark, for Philip Lisle's hair and 
 moustachios were like jet, and the eyes were 
 black as the delicate eyebrows above them. 
 He was dressed very much finer than most 
 in our parts, and looked, in fact, like one of 
 the gay cavaliers that sometimes rode by 
 our orates alonq: the Great North Road. 
 His horse, too, was finely caparisoned, and 
 there were two pistols peeping out of the 
 holsters on each side of the saddle, which 
 shone so in the sunlight that I was sure they 
 were fashioned of silver. 
 
 *' And who is this bonny lad ? " said Philip
 
 68 Of Philip Lisle and his Horse C^sar. 
 
 Lisle, turning to me, with Rose still perched 
 on his shoulder. 
 
 '' It is William Dale, father, and he lives 
 over the bend of the hill yonder," said Rose, 
 while I stood and stared at the man's hand- 
 some face and fine clothes, and clean lost 
 my tongue for admiration ; " and he has 
 shown me where the primroses grow best, 
 and where the birds'-nests are, and where 
 he fell down the crags from the jackdaws' 
 nest." 
 
 '' Ah, a Dale ? Lad, I should have known 
 thee. The Dales were always big men, as 
 I have heard, though I never saw but two — 
 thy grandfather and thy father. Thou wilt 
 be a big man like them, Will." 
 
 " Does my father know you then, sir ? " I 
 asked, being surprised to hear him speak 
 thus familiarly of my family. 
 
 He laughed and stroked his horse's neck, 
 the creature having come up to him and 
 pushed his nose under Philip Lisle's arm.
 
 Of Philip Lisle and his Horse C^.sar. 69 
 
 '* There are few, lad, that do not know 
 
 me. However But what thinkest thou 
 
 of my horse, Will ? Is't not a beauty ? Ye 
 have no horse in all the three Ridings like 
 this. Caesar his name is, for he is the 
 emperor of the horse race, as Caesar was of 
 the human. However, he, too, like Caesar, 
 may fall a victim to treachery. But thy 
 master will be there, old friend, will not he ? 
 Yea, whenever death comes, let it be red 
 death, or black death, in bed or afield, it 
 will find thee and me together." 
 
 The horse lifted its head and whinnied, 
 and pushed its nose against the man's face, 
 and I stood dumb to see the marvellous 
 understanding between them. For it seemed 
 to comprehend exactly what he said, which 
 was what I had never seen in a horse before, 
 save that they learn and obey the few words 
 of command by which men make known 
 their desires. 
 
 '' But what talk I of death," said Philip
 
 70 Of Philip Lisle and his Horse C^sar. 
 
 Lisle, '' with two such rosy faces before me ? 
 Children, would ye like a ride on horse 
 Caesar's back ? Will, climb into my saddle, 
 and I will put Rose behind thee. So, put 
 thy feet in the stirrup-leathers. Thy legs 
 are too short yet to reach the stirrups, 
 though thou wilt quickly mend that matter. 
 And now have no fear, but hold thy bridle 
 tight ; and Rose, my princess, cling firm to 
 Will's waist ; and thou, Caesar, remember 
 what thou carriest, and be on thy best 
 behaviour. And now, off!" 
 
 And away we went over the ground on 
 Caesar's back at a swift canter, and yet 
 travelling as safely as if we had been in an 
 easy chair. For I had but to keep my knees 
 well pressed to the saddle, as my father had 
 taught me, and Rose had but to circle my 
 waist with her dainty arms, and beyond that 
 we had no trouble to take. But never before 
 or since have I crossed a horse which went 
 over the ground as that did. For it was
 
 Of Philip Lisle and his Horse C^sar. 71 
 
 like the motion of a greyhound, which runs 
 straight and smooth and swift, and makes 
 never a sound as the soft feet touch the 
 ground and fly onward. And so we circled 
 down the bank and turned, and came round 
 again to where Philip Lisle stood. And he 
 lifted us down and patted Caesar's neck. 
 
 '* Thou hast never ridden horse like that, 
 Will, eh ? " said he. " Ah, this horse hath 
 soul in him, and mind. Well, we must 
 hence. Rose, I am going to take thee 
 home. We shall sleep at Retford to-night, 
 and so say good-bye to Will Dale." 
 
 She came up to me where I stood silent 
 and sad, and lifted up her little red rosebud 
 of a mouth to kiss me. And, why I know 
 not, I was so moved, that I put my arm 
 about her neck and kissed her agfain and 
 again, and then turned and cast down my 
 eyes, and, I dare say, blushed as red as any 
 June rose. 
 
 "Nay, lad," said Philip Lisle, ''be not
 
 72 Of Philip Lisle and his Horse C^sar. 
 
 ashamed. Alack, I wonder if ye will kiss 
 next time ye meet ? Who knows ? " 
 
 *' Oh, father," cried Rose, '' bring me again 
 to see Will." 
 
 " Wouldst like to see Rose again, Will ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 ''Yes, sir, very much," said I. 
 
 " Then thou shalt, but when I cannot say. 
 Nevertheless thou shalt. And now farewell, 
 Will. Stay, there is a guinea for thee. Put 
 it in thy breeches pocket, lad." 
 
 He swung into the saddle, and, stooping 
 down, lifted Rose before him and put one 
 arm round her. And again he cried, *' Fare- 
 well, Will Dale," and again Rose kissed the 
 tips of her fingers to me, and he called to 
 Caesar, and the horse started forward like 
 an arrow out of a bow, and away they went 
 along the valley, and Rose's voice came to 
 me on the wind, crying, " Good-bye, dear 
 Will, good-bye ! " And then they were out 
 of sight, and I turned away and climbed the
 
 Of Philip Lisle and his Horse Caesar, "ji 
 
 hill, and went straight to Jacob Trusty, who 
 was beddinof down his twelve fat oxen for 
 the night. 
 
 "Jacob," said I, when I made sure that 
 we were all alone in the straw shed, " Jacob, 
 did you ever hear of a man called Philip 
 Lisle ? " 
 
 '' Ay, marry," said Jacob, sticking his fork 
 into a great heap of straw, and lifting the 
 latter on his back with a prodigious grunt. 
 " Ay, marry, have I ! What, man, and so 
 hast thou. Did I never tell ee of Black 
 Phil ? " 
 
 " What, Black Phil the highwayman ? Is 
 he the same as Philip Lisle ? " 
 
 " Gd's mercy, ay, and no other ! Ay, 
 Philip Lisle he was called once upon a time, 
 but now Black Phil, by reason of his dark 
 face. Natheless, 'tis a gentleman born, and 
 hath rank and blood. But what matter — he 
 is a highwayman, and must finally swing on 
 gallow tree. For look 'ee, William, boy, as
 
 74 Of Philip Lisle and his Horse C/esar. 
 
 you go through the world you will see one 
 thing — namely, that if a man give himself to 
 evil courses he may prosper for awhile, but 
 'tis the gallows in the end that rewardeth 
 him, even as it saith in Holy Writ." 
 
 And Jacob went down the fold with his 
 straw, and into the beast-place, and there 
 made such a rattling and shouting amongst 
 the fat oxen, that the whole place shook 
 again. Which done, he came leisurely across 
 the fold, picking up a fork full of straw here 
 and there, and coming into the straw-shed 
 again, continued his discourse. 
 
 *' This trade of highwayman, William, boy, 
 is a parlous one, and many a man that hath 
 gone into it hath oft wished he could get out 
 on't as easy as he went in. For look you, 
 lad, your highwayman, though he ride a good 
 horse and wear fine clothes, doth neither at 
 his own expense, but rather at the cost of 
 them whom he robbeth. Likewise he is 
 against the law, which is a bad matter for any
 
 Of Philip Lisle and his Horse C.^sar. 75 
 
 man. Howbeit, I had liefer be robbed by a 
 highwayman than a lawyer, for your lawyer 
 laughs In your face while he turns out your 
 pockets, but your highwayman is as courtly 
 as any fine court-madam. These things 
 have I noticed, William, boy, in going 
 through the world ; for, though I be of this 
 parish born and bred, I have travelled, yea, 
 I have travelled even to the city of Lincoln, 
 and again as far as B rough Hill in the 
 county of Westmoreland, which last is as 
 heathen a land as ever man knew, and full 
 of high mountains and deep precipices. But 
 as for this Black Phil now — 'tis a good heart, 
 and the poor folk do think a deal of him. 
 For if he rob a lord, or maybe a bishop, 
 riding along the road in his own carriage, 
 what doth he do but gallop off to some place 
 where there is a hard winter or griping times, 
 and there share the money ? So that there 
 is not a poor man 'twixt York and London 
 that would not give Black Phil shelter and
 
 76 Of Philip Lisle and his Horse Caesar. 
 
 help if he were pursued by king's officers. 
 However, he hath not ridden in these parts 
 this five year. And now, WilHam, lad, go 
 beg a mug of small beer from thy good 
 mother, for my mouth is as dry as any lime- 
 kiln." 
 
 When I had carried Jacob his mug of 
 small ale, I left him and went and walked 
 by myself in the garden. And there I 
 thought over the events of the past two 
 days, which had been more astonishing than 
 any that had ever come into my young life 
 previously. I had seen a real highwayman, 
 and had talked with him, and he spoke like 
 other men, and was habited like a gentleman, 
 and was, I was sure, a man of kind heart, by 
 the way he caressed his daughter and spoke 
 to me. And I felt very sorry for Philip 
 Lisle, and wondered what little Rose would 
 do when they hanged her father, as they 
 would do in the end, because Jacob Trusty 
 said so. However, I decided that in that
 
 Of Philip Lisle and his Horse C^sar. "j^ 
 
 case I would beg my father to let Rose live 
 with us, knowing that she and Lucy would 
 agree well. And I further thought that in 
 that case Philip Lisle would leave me his 
 horse Caesar, with the two silver pistols and 
 fine saddle, but I did not wish the king's 
 officers to catch him for all that. 
 
 Now, while I walked round the garden 
 with my hands in my pockets, I found my 
 fingers clinging round Philip Lisle's guinea, 
 and fell a-wondering what I should do with 
 it. I was very shy of speaking to any one 
 about my two new friends, and I knew that 
 if I showed my money I should have to tell 
 how I had come by it. It was not probable, 
 I knew, that I should be allowed to keep the 
 guinea if my mother knew whence it came. 
 But, though I set no store by money, having 
 no occasion for it, I was not minded to g\N^ 
 up my guinea, for Philip Lisle had spoken 
 kindly to me in giving it, and it might be 
 that it really was his own to give. So I
 
 y^ Of Philip Lisle and his Horse C^sar. 
 
 went into the house, and found a Httle leaden 
 box which Jacob Trusty had once bestowed 
 upon me, and I wrapped up the guinea 
 within a sheet of paper, inside which I 
 placed a primrose that Rose Lisle had 
 pinned in my coat that afternoon, and I put 
 the paper in the leaden box, and fetched a 
 spade and dug a hole in the corner of 
 my own patch of garden, and buried the 
 leaden box two feet deep, and put stones 
 above and below it, and stamped the earth 
 well in, and so hid out of sight the connecting 
 link 'twixt me and Philip Lisle.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 OF MY FIRST GOING TO SCHOOL. 
 
 PON the very evening of the day 
 v^hereon I had buried Phih'p Lisle's 
 guinea in a corner of my garden, there came 
 to our house Parson Drumbleforth, who had 
 walked along the highway from Darrlngton 
 to hold converse with my father and mother. 
 And our Lucy, seeing him approach from afar 
 off, ran quickly indoors, and told my mother, 
 who immediately caused a fire to be lighted 
 in the best parlour, the spring evenings 
 being ofttimes chilly for old bones, and 
 Parson Drumbleforth having got past his 
 vigour. So presently he came in sight, and
 
 8o Of my First Going to School. 
 
 advanced along the garden walks, and was 
 met at the door by my mother with a 
 respectful courtesy. But he would have 
 naught of the best parlour. 
 
 '' Let me go into your own chamber, 
 Mistress Dale," said he, *' where is, I know, 
 such an easy-chair as would fit judge or 
 bishop, let alone a humble clerk, and where 
 the fire hath burnt all day. Your best 
 parlour, sure, is very fine accommodation, 
 but cold, mistress, cold." 
 
 " Why, surely," said my mother, *' an I 
 had known your Reverence was coming 
 there should have been a fire lighted hours 
 ago. However, my own parlour hath had 
 a fire in it since noon." 
 
 Whereupon she led him to the easy-chair 
 in her own room, and Lucy and myself 
 followed in and paid our respects to the 
 Vicar, and admired his white bands and the 
 silver buckles of his shoes, and looked at his 
 staff, which was a clouded cane with a heavy
 
 Of my First Going to School. 8i 
 
 silver knob of great value. And the Parson 
 having stretched forth his hands to the 
 blaze, and asked us how we did, and if we 
 were faithful in our duties to our parents, I 
 was sent forth into the yard to find my 
 father, who had gone out awhile before to 
 consult Timothy Grass and Jacob Trusty 
 about certain yearlings which he had just 
 bought at Wakefield fair. And finding him, 
 he at once broke off his discourse and went 
 into the house and greeted the Vicar, and 
 brought forth tobacco and pipes, and they 
 both smoked, and my mother went into the 
 kitchen and made a pitcher of mulled ale, 
 of which grateful drink Parson Drumble- 
 forth was an admirer. And my father and 
 the vicar discoursed of the weather, and the 
 crop of lambs, and the prospect of the 
 coming harvests, hay and corn, and Lucy 
 and I listened and strove hard to behave 
 ourselves with propriety. And the mulled 
 ale having been brought in and the glasses 
 
 VOL I. 6
 
 82 Of my First Going to School. 
 
 filled, the Vicar pledged us all and com- 
 mended the drink mightily, after which the 
 pitcher was put on the hob to keep warm, 
 and my mother sat down to her needle. 
 
 " Master and Mistress Dale," presently 
 said Parson Drumbleforth, *' I am come 
 here to-night on an important matter. Ye 
 have here a great lad — stand up, William, 
 my child, and let us look at thee ; why, thou 
 art nearly to my shoulder already ! — ye have 
 here, I say, a great lad, who is fast growing 
 towards manhood." 
 
 ''Oh, sir!" cried my mother. ''Man- 
 hood ! Why, 'tis but a child." 
 
 " Softly, softly, mistress. I say manhood, 
 and rightly. For before ye see the change 
 he will be a youth, and then a man, ay, 
 and a bigger man than his father." 
 
 " He will, he will," said my father. " Ay, 
 he will be an inch bigger than I am, all 
 ways. However, I am six foot three In my 
 stockings."
 
 Of my First Going to School. 83 
 
 *"Tis a fine lad, indeed," said Parson 
 Drumbleforth, measuring me with a critical 
 eye. ** Wherefore the greater responsibility 
 resteth upon you." 
 
 "Your own boy, sir, Master John, is a 
 big-made boy, too," said my mother, anxious 
 to return the Vicar's compliments. 
 
 '* So, so. A sturdy knave is Jack, and 
 strong enough, but rather broad than long. 
 However, your mention of Jack, Mistress 
 Dale, brings me back to where I set out 
 from. It is time, Master Dale, that this 
 great lad went to school." 
 
 *' He hath learnt from me, sir," said my 
 mother, looking anxiously at me. " What 
 I could teach him he hath learnt, so that now 
 he can read his Catechism in the Prayer- 
 book, and knoweth his duty, and " 
 
 *' Mistress Dale," interrupted Parson 
 Drumbleforth, " I know well that you are a 
 scholar, and able to impart knowledge to 
 your children. As for this little maiden, let
 
 84 Of my First Going to School. 
 
 her continue to learn from her mother. But 
 as for Will here, let him to school, where 
 men will teach him, and he will mix with his 
 fellows." 
 
 " But, sir," said my mother, *' there is no 
 school at hand. For it is too far for him to 
 walk twice a day 'twixt here and Pontefract.'' 
 
 " Then he must board with the master, 
 my good friend Dr. Parsons," said Parson 
 Drumbleforth. "He will not charge you 
 overmuch for the lad's eating and sleeping. 
 On a Saturday let him come home, so that 
 he may enjoy the benefit of my ministry on 
 a Sunday, and on a Monday morning let him 
 be *off again bright and early." 
 
 ''He hath never slept away from home in 
 his life," said my mother. **And I always 
 fear damp beds in strange houses. Our 
 own, sir, if not slept in for awhile, are aired 
 for days before we use them again, but all 
 folks are not so particular." 
 
 *' Tut, tut, mistress, the beds will be aired.
 
 Of my First Going to School. 85 
 
 I warrant. Mistress Parsons is a careful 
 housewife. What say'st thou, Master 
 Dale ? " 
 
 " I am for the lad to go," said my father. 
 ** 'Twill do him no harm to live with others 
 of his age." 
 
 '*'Tis a good school, the Queen's School 
 at Pontefract," said the Vicar. '' My own 
 lad, Jack, hath been there since Christmas, 
 and though somewhat of a wooden-head, he 
 hath picked up a good deal. Wouldst like 
 to go with Jack to school, Will ? " 
 " Yes, sir, very much," I answered. 
 And in the end it was decided that I 
 should go ; and my father promised to ride 
 into Pontefract the next morning, and there 
 make arrangements with Dr. Parsons about 
 my board and lodging in the master s house. 
 And so overjoyed was I at the prospect that 
 I could hardly sleep that night. But early 
 next morning I rose and sought out Jacob 
 Trusty, and told him the news.
 
 86 Of my First Going to School. 
 
 ** Thou wilt have to fight, William/' said 
 he; '*yea, thou wilt have to fight. How- 
 ever, I have no fear for thee. And when 
 thou hast fought and beaten the biggest lad 
 in the school, thou wilt be much respected. 
 For in going through the world, William, 
 boy, thou wilt see one thing, namely, that 
 men never so much respect their fellows as 
 when the same have shown their power. 
 Wherefore remember to hit hard and straight, 
 and to care nothing for what thou gettest in 
 return.'* 
 
 And then returned my father from Ponte- 
 fract, with news that he had made arrange- 
 ments with Dr. Parsons, and I was to go 
 the next Monday ; and he had seen Mrs. 
 Parsons, who had promised faithfully to see 
 that my bed was duly aired, upon which 
 assurance my mother plucked up some small 
 comfort, though she was not at all reconciled 
 to the idea of parting with me. And after 
 that all was hurry and bustle in our house.
 
 Of my First Going to School. ^"j 
 
 for my mother must see to my new shirts 
 and handkerchiefs, and Lucy must broider 
 my name upon each article, and there was 
 repairing of garments and washing and iron- 
 ing, so that, as my father said, I might have 
 been going on a voyage to the Indies instead 
 of only to Pontefract. But I have observed 
 that mothers do take a pleasure in making 
 a fuss after their children, and are never so 
 pleased as when busying themselves in that 
 way. It is something which a man cannot 
 understand, but women with children to care 
 for understand it readily. 
 
 And so the Monday morning came round, 
 and Timothy Grass harnessed one of the 
 horses to our light spring cart, and my box 
 was put therein and my father took the reins, 
 and I kissed my mother and Lucy, with 
 many admonitions to the latter to take care 
 of my dog Rover, whom I had perforce to 
 leave behind me, and away we drove down 
 the road. I felt an important personage
 
 88 Of my First Going to School. 
 
 that morning, for I had not only a new suit 
 of homespun upon me, but in the pockets of 
 my breeches there lay a new crown piece 
 given me by my mother, and a shilling pre- 
 sented to me by Lucy, and Jacob Trusty had 
 given me a knife which I had often envied 
 him the possession of, and which had three 
 blades, and a pick for taking stones out of a 
 horse's hoof. 
 
 On the road between Darrington and 
 Pontefract we came upon Master John 
 Drumbleforth, who was trudging his way 
 to school. My father pulled up the horse, 
 and civilly inquired if Master John would 
 accept of a lift, a question which he at once 
 answered by climbing into the spring 
 cart. 
 
 " Why," said he, '' I had at any time 
 sooner ride than walk, as you may well 
 imagine. Master Dale. And so thou art 
 going to school. Will ? Well, I will look 
 after thee, if need be."
 
 Of my First Going to School. 89 
 
 He was a rather solid, heavy-looking lad, 
 this Jack Drumbleforth, with a round shining 
 face, and big limbs, but no great height. 
 Unlike his father, the Vicar, he was no deep 
 nor apt scholar, but rather delighted in 
 sports and games, and in an outdoor life. 
 Nevertheless, he was not so dull as to lack 
 observation, and knowing that learning is a 
 thing which helps every man that strives to 
 obtain it, he worked hard, in a plodding 
 laboured fashion, and acquired some know- 
 ledge. There were lads of his own age of 
 more brilliant parts, who dashed ahead at a 
 great pace, and could write Latin verses ere 
 ever Jack Drumbleforth had mastered his 
 hie hcBc hoc, but in the end the tortoise 
 caught the hare, for though Jack was un- 
 deniably slow he was very sure. 
 
 The new world into which I was now 
 plunged furnished me with much matter of 
 surprise and wonder. Until that time I had 
 seen little of the world, my observations
 
 90 Op' my First Going to School. 
 
 having been confined to an occasional visit 
 to Pontefract market with my parents, which 
 excursions had been great events in my Hfe, 
 and were eagerly expected and pleasurably 
 regretted. Now, however, I was thrown into 
 the company of some hundred and twenty 
 lads, whose ages ranged from ten to fifteen 
 years. Also I was brought under the rule 
 of the Reverend Dr. Parsons, the head- 
 master, and his assistants, who were younger 
 men, but also scholars and clergymen, and 
 exceeding grave. There was also Mrs. 
 Parsons, the doctor's wife, who was a 
 motherly lady, and took as much care of us 
 who lived in the head-master's house as if 
 we had been her own children. For if we 
 needed it she dosed us with medicine, and if 
 one did cut or bruise himself she repaired 
 the damage with lint or oils, and there were 
 poulticings for colds and gruel for such as 
 were unfit for stronger meat, and the weakly 
 were tended with much care. Because of all
 
 Of my First Going to School. 91 
 
 these things good Mrs. Parsons was much 
 thought of by the lads, and highly respected 
 by their parents. She was a little bustling 
 woman, always cheerful and always ready, 
 and I have since thought that she manifested 
 the greater care for us because it had not 
 pleased Providence that she should have 
 children of her own. 
 
 As for Dr. Parsons, he was a little man, 
 somewhat stout, very nimble and active, red- 
 faced and smiling, a strict master, never 
 sparing the birch, and always just in his 
 decisions ; wherefore there was hardly a lad 
 in the school who did not feel that praise or 
 punishment was properly meted out. For he 
 confused not the sharp lad with the slow, and 
 made a fine distinction between them that 
 attained knowledge by leaps and bounds, and 
 them that reached it by gradual and con- 
 stant labour. The dull lad who plodded on 
 patiently met in him a kind and indulgent 
 master ; the clever but idle boy received
 
 92 Of MY First Going to School. 
 
 from him a vast amount of watching and of 
 castigation. Half-done work he could not 
 abide, and would rather have had a slow lad 
 work at a task for two hours and know it 
 than see a more sharp-witted one master it 
 in ten minutes. 
 
 '* Thou art a great lad, William Dale," 
 said Dr. Parsons to me, when my father had 
 bidden me farewell and departed, " and I 
 doubt not thy mind runneth more on birds'- 
 nests and such-like than on learning. Nay, 
 lad, that is but natural, and none but a fool 
 would have it otherwise. I shall not plague 
 thee overmuch with learning. This counsel, 
 however, I give thee — what thou dost learn, 
 learn well, and be not ashamed if It takes 
 thee two days to master what a sharper lad 
 would master In one. It is better to know 
 why a thing is done than how it is done. 
 Get to the bottom of everything. Let me 
 see thee work steadily, eating thy meals with 
 a good appetite, and behaving towards me
 
 Of my First Going to School. 93 
 
 and thy fellows as to thy parents and sister. 
 So shall I be satisfied with thee, William. 
 And now, perchance thou wilt get fighting 
 with some of these lads of mine. Well, 'tis 
 one of those things which our perverse 
 human nature prompteth us to. However, 
 William Dale, bear this in mind — never fight 
 until thou art bound to do so. Be not the 
 aggressor. He that gives cause of offence 
 deserveth punishing. So when thou art 
 forced to fight, fight not in anger, but with 
 cool temper, and remember that a shot 
 straight out from the left shoulder is a won- 
 derful thing to cool down thy adversary. 
 And now let us to school." 
 
 When I had had time to look round me, I 
 discovered that of all my new associates 
 there were but two of whom I had any 
 knowledge. One of these was John Drum- 
 bleforth, the other was Dennis Watson, the 
 son of that Watson of Castle Hill to whom 
 I have already made reference as being the
 
 94 Of my First Going to School. 
 
 enemy of my family. This Dennis was a 
 lad somewhat my senior, of a dark and rather 
 forbidding countenance, very masterful, and 
 apt to bear malice against any who fell under 
 his displeasure. Save that I had now and 
 then seen him about his father's land I knew 
 nothing of him. Between a Dale and a 
 Watson there w^as never any speech. If we 
 did but meet in the highways we passed 
 each other without word or look. Wherefore 
 I was not over-well pleased to find Dennis 
 Watson amongst my schoolmates. For 
 though I had been taught to hate no man, 
 yet I had a hearty dislike to any representa- 
 tive of the race which had been our enemies 
 for many a generation. 
 
 Out of consideration for my newness, 
 Mrs. Parsons put me to sleep in the chamber 
 in which slept Jack Drumbleforth and two 
 other boys of a like age. With these three 
 I naturally became closely acquainted. The 
 name of one of my new room-mates was
 
 Of my First Going to School. 95 
 
 Thomas Thorpe, the son of a steward on 
 one of the neighbouring great estates ; the 
 other was Benjamin Tuckett, nephew of 
 Mr. John Tuckett, the grocer in the market- 
 place. Ben Tuckett had neither father nor 
 mother, and his uncle's wife having an 
 objection to great boys in the house, Ben 
 was sent to Dr. Parsons until he should be 
 of an age to be apprenticed to some trade. 
 He was a round-faced, pleasant-tempered 
 lad, always lively, always willing to do any 
 one a good turn, so that he was universally 
 liked. Between Ben and me and Tom 
 Thorpe and Jack Drumbleforth grew up a 
 strong friendship, which lasted many years, 
 until death severed it. 
 
 Now from the very first day of my going 
 to school, Dennis Watson made a dead set 
 at me, pouring out upon me as it were all 
 the hatred and malice which his house had 
 for mine. Being somewhat more experienced 
 of the world than I — for he had been at
 
 96 Of my First Going to School. 
 
 school two years when I went there — he had 
 an advantage over me In some respects, and 
 failed not to use It. He had a following of 
 his own amongst the boys, all those who 
 served under his leadership being noted as 
 comprising the evilly disposed portion of our 
 little community. Presently It became the 
 fashion among these lads to make sport of 
 me, annoying me In whatever way their 
 Ingenuity could devise. Thus, If I were 
 engaged In preparing my tasks, I should 
 find a pot of Ink spilt over my fair copies, 
 or If I were playing with my fellows In the 
 yard, some one would rudely knock me over, 
 as if by accident. Howbelt, being of an 
 easy nature, I took little notice of these 
 matters until one day came when, by the 
 advice of my three room-mates, I determined 
 to stand It no longer. So when one of 
 Dennis Watson's men, as If by accident, 
 trod rudely on my toes, I seized him by 
 the collar, and marched him up to where
 
 Of my First Going to School. 97 
 
 Dennis and his chief associates were stand- 
 ing together. And then I think the whole 
 school saw that something was about to 
 happen, for it gathered round us, and I 
 suddenly found Jack Drumbleforth and 
 Ben Tuckett at my elbow, and Tom 
 Thorpe making his way to me through the 
 throng. 
 
 " Now," said I, shaking the boy, a small 
 one, who had stamped upon my toes, " the 
 next time you or any other treads on me, 
 or spills ink on my paper, or makes other 
 like mistake, I shall take his head and 
 knock it against the wall ! That is fair 
 warning." 
 
 Then Dennis Watson laughed in a sneer- 
 ing fashion, and his mates echoed him. 
 
 " Pooh ! " quoth he ; " we all know that 
 William Dale has not heart to fieht 
 even a small boy, let alone one his own 
 size." 
 
 ''Do you?" I said, going straight to 
 
 VOL. I. 7
 
 98 Of my First Going to School. 
 
 him ; '' then, Dennis Watson, as you are 
 older than I, and as big, I will fight you 
 now." 
 
 But he would have kept out of that If he 
 could. Nevertheless, his own party edged 
 him on to fight, and mine insisted on it, and 
 presently we were all behind the school-wall, 
 and our seconds were holding our coats. 
 And I, remembering the doctor's counsel to 
 keep cool, kept cool as long as I could, and 
 at the right moment I gave my opponent 
 one from the left shoulder which spoiled his 
 looks for many a day. And after that there 
 was no more teasing of me, but I was much 
 respected. 
 
 Two days afterwards came Dennis Watson 
 to me, as I crossed the playground alone. 
 " Will Dale," said he, with a strange look of 
 hatred on his face, " I hate you, and always 
 shalL And however long I live, I will cause 
 you such trouble as will make you wish you 
 had never been born."
 
 Of my First Going to School. 
 
 99 
 
 Now at the time I made light of this 
 threat, and laughed at it. But I remem- 
 bered it many a time in the years which 
 followed.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 OF THE DISPUTE IN THE MARKET-PLACE. 
 
 T was in the middle of spring when I 
 was first taken to school, and my life 
 till the end of the following summer was 
 comparatively uneventful. On Saturdays I 
 went home, to tell Jacob Trusty of my doings 
 during the week, and to receive his counsel 
 and admonition on various matters. Those 
 week-end visits home were great events. On 
 the Saturday I visited all my old haunts, took 
 out my dog, saw to my garden, and went 
 round the farmstead renewing acquaintance 
 with man and beast. On the Sunday we 
 went to church as usual. Then came
 
 The Dispute in the Market-place, ioi 
 
 Monday morning again, and I wended my 
 way to school once more, generally catching 
 up Jack Drumbleforth on the road. Having 
 fought and beaten Dennis Watson, there 
 was little else left me to do in that line, for 
 no lad of my own age and size cared to fight 
 with me, and the elder lads were, of course, 
 above battling with their junior. So I went 
 on with my tasks in a steady and laborious 
 fashion, not being over ready of perception, 
 but still determined to do what lay in me. 
 In this manner of life the months passed on 
 quietly. But just as summer was over, and 
 we had brought home the last load of the 
 corn - harvest, there came matters which 
 changed the whole course of my life. 
 
 I have already told you that between the 
 Watsons of Castle Hill and the Dales of 
 Dale's Field there was an ancient root of 
 contention in the shape of a piece of land 
 lying between our respective estates. The 
 ownership of this, which was but a strip of
 
 I02 The Dispute in the Market-place. 
 
 meadow, had been disputed 'twixt Dale and 
 Watson for many a generation, though 
 neither side had ever sought the aid of the 
 law in order to settle matters once and for 
 all. Formerly, if one house had sent flocks 
 to graze on the debateable ground, the other 
 had forthwith driven the offending animals 
 away. Sometimes blows had arisen from 
 this proceeding, and the servants from each 
 farmstead had turned out with quarter-staff 
 or cudgel, and fought fiercely one with 
 another. But for nearly fifty years previous 
 to my time neither side had claimed the 
 land, though both were equally careful that 
 no right of way should be established across 
 it by third parties. Yet although matters 
 had been quiet, the red spirit of dislike and 
 resentment ran strong as ever, and of all 
 men in that neighbourhood, Rupert Watson 
 of Castle Hill was the only one that my 
 father never held speech with. 
 
 It was the first week of September, 1631,
 
 The Dispute in the Market-place. 103 
 
 and by permission of Dr. Parsons I had 
 come home from school on the Thursday, 
 in order to be present at our harvest-supper, 
 which was a great event, and not to be 
 missed on any account. There were gathered 
 toeether on that occasion all our servants, 
 male and female, all that ever worked for 
 us on odd days during the year, such as at 
 turnip-hoeing or sheep-shearing times, and 
 with them came their wives and families, so 
 that our great barn was well filled. There 
 were also two or three farmers of our ac- 
 quaintance from the neighbouring villages, 
 and sometimes Parson Drumbleforth was 
 present to hallow the ceremony, as he indeed 
 was upon this occasion, and with him Jack, 
 who had been permitted to beg off from 
 school. Great doings there were at our 
 harvest-supper, namely, an abundance of 
 provisions and good cheer, and after that 
 dancing to the music of the village fiddler, 
 who sat on a tub in the centre, and played
 
 I04 The Dispute in the Market-place. 
 
 for all he was worth until neither man nor 
 maiden could dance any longer. Nor were 
 the horses forgotten, which had worked so 
 hard during the harvest-month, for they on 
 that night had each an extra feed of corn. 
 
 On this particular occasion, when the 
 supper was well over, and Tom Treddle, 
 the fiddler, had just got Into the swing of 
 his first tune. Will White, the miller of 
 Smeaton, drew my father aside Into a 
 corner, and began to talk to him. 
 
 '' I am afraid. Master Dale," said Will, 
 ''that you are going to have trouble," and 
 he nodded his head in the direction of the 
 woods that bound our farm. 
 
 ** What Is It, Will ?" asked my father. 
 
 '' Why, certainly," answered the miller, 
 **'tis none of my business, and maybe I 
 ought not to meddle with It. But you see my 
 nearest way from home to your place here, 
 Master Dale, lies across the fields. Now, 
 as I came along to-night, I saw that Rupert
 
 The Dispute ix the Market-place. 105 
 
 Watson has turned out his horses into that 
 piece of land which he says is his, and 
 which you say is yours. So therefore I 
 say, I fear there will be trouble." 
 
 ''Trouble there will be!" answered my 
 father. '' And I am sorry for it, for the 
 old sore has lain unopened these fifty years, 
 and should have healed for what I would 
 have done. But Rupert Watson must not 
 turn his cattle on my land. Well, join the 
 dancers, good Will, and I will consider 
 what's to be done." 
 
 Now, it was not easy to decide upon a 
 course of action, because there was sure to 
 be trouble, whatever conduct were pursued. 
 For if my father patiently suffered Rupert 
 W^atson's horses to occupy the land, it would 
 amount to an acknowledgment that the land 
 was not ours ; and if, on the other hand, 
 he drove them away, there would be resist- 
 ance on the part of the Watsons, and then 
 would come fighting. However, by the
 
 io6 The Dispute in the Market-place. 
 
 time the dancers had all tired, and the folks 
 were nearly all gone home, my father had 
 made up his mind. So he called up to 
 him Jacob Trusty and Timothy Grass and 
 Reuben Larkspur, and all our regular 
 labourers, ten men and youths in all, and 
 began to talk to them in the barn. " Lads," 
 said he, '' ye know that there is a strip of 
 meadow-land lying between Watson's estate 
 and mine which we both claim ? Mine I 
 believe it to be, else I would not claim it. 
 It hath always been understood to be mine, 
 as Jacob here will tell you." 
 
 '* Dale's land it was, and is, and always 
 will be," said Jacob. 
 
 '' Well," continued my father, " for fifty 
 years the matter has been quiet, but Rupert 
 Watson has seen fit to break the peace at 
 last. To-night he has turned his horses 
 into the land in question, thinking, no 
 doubt, that our merry-making would prevent 
 us from noticing the matter. However,
 
 The Dispute in the Market-place. 107 
 
 Miller White saw them, and told me of 
 it. Now, I am not going to allow Rupert 
 Watson's horses to feed on my lands. Nor 
 will I simply turn them out. I will take 
 such measure as will lead, I doubt not, to 
 a final settlement of this matter. What say 
 you, Jacob ? " 
 
 " It hath gone on long enough," said 
 Jacob. " Let it be settled and done with." 
 
 '' 'Tis good counsel. Now, lads, there 
 are ten of ye, and I make eleven. Take 
 each of ye a good stout staff, lest we be 
 attacked, and then follow me, and we will 
 take Rupert Watson's horses, and put them 
 into pound at Darrington. Then he will 
 have to settle with the pinder ere he can 
 regain them, and if he likes to take the law 
 of me, he is welcome." 
 
 So the men, with much approval, went 
 for their staves, and prepared to carry out 
 my father's wishes. 
 
 Now, as it happened, Parson Drumble-
 
 io8 The Dispute in the Market-place. 
 
 forth had gone home a good three hours 
 before that, but Jack had remained to sleep 
 at our house, and he and I had lurked in 
 a dark corner of the barn to hear what my 
 father said to the men. When we heard of 
 the proposed expedition against Rupert 
 Watson's horses, nothing would content us 
 but that we must go ; and knowing that 
 if we asked leave we should not get it, we 
 waited till all had left the barn, and then 
 ran away into the fields, and hid under a 
 hedge until my father and his men came 
 along, behind whom we followed in the 
 moonlight until we reached the debateable 
 strip of land, and saw the horses, twelve in 
 number, cropping the grass. We had 
 expected that some spy would have been 
 sent by Rupert Watson to watch over the 
 horses, in case of an attack ; but he, fancying 
 we should all be busy with the harvest- 
 supper, had left them alone, and our men had 
 no difficulty in surrounding them and driving
 
 The Dispute in the Market-place. 109 
 
 them away. Then Jack and I ran home 
 as hard as possible, and had only just 
 retired to bed when my father came In to 
 tell my mother that the younger men 
 had taken the horses to the pinfold at 
 Darrington. 
 
 The next day passed away peacefully 
 enough with us, but towards night came one 
 from Darrington, who told us that at noon 
 Rupert Watson had ridden up in a great 
 passion, and had demanded his horses of the 
 pinder, and threatened all manner of violence 
 against those who had impounded them. 
 To whom the pinder, being in the right, 
 and having the law behind him, made 
 answer that he knew nought of the rights 
 or wrongs of the dispute 'twixt Dales and 
 Watsons, but that the horses being come 
 into his pound, should not go thence until 
 the pinning-fee were paid. Which fee Rupert 
 Watson was forced in the end to disburse, and 
 so departed, vowing vengeance on us Dales
 
 no The Dispute in the Market-place. 
 
 root and branch. When my mother heard 
 this she was troubled, but my father bade 
 her be of good cheer. 
 
 On the Saturday morning, I accompanied 
 my father to market, my mother staying at 
 home, which, as events proved, was a 
 fortunate thing, for she would have been 
 sore put about by the scene which followed 
 our arrival in the market-place. It was 
 rather late when we reached the town, and, 
 after putting up our horse and cart, went 
 into the street to do our business, and 
 the frequenters of the market were already 
 gathered In full force about the Butter Cross 
 and the Beast Fair. My father had said, 
 as we came along, that he should probably 
 have some words with Rupert Watson if 
 they met, and I was therefore on the look- 
 out for our enemy, but for a long time I 
 saw nothing of him. In such a small place, 
 however, we were bound to meet him, and 
 meet him we did, as we went to dine at the
 
 The Dispute in the Market-place, i i i 
 
 ordinary. For there he stood on the steps 
 of the inn, a tall, dark-faced man, with a 
 look of anger and hatred on his countenance, 
 which reminded me of his son Dennis. 
 
 Rupert Watson saw us coming along the 
 street, and I saw him square himself so as 
 to fill the doorway of the inn. There were 
 some twenty or thirty farmers standing 
 round, and they, knowing what had taken 
 place, looked on with much curiosity as my 
 father drew near. 
 
 "Keep by me. Will," said my father; 
 "thou shalt come to no harm — nor shall I 
 for that matter." 
 
 When we were a few yards from him, 
 Rupert Watson broke out upon my father 
 in a loud voice, so that men came running 
 along the market-place and from the 
 shambles to see who it was that caused 
 such a commotion. 
 
 '' So, Master Dale ! " shouted Rupert 
 Watson ; " so you dare to show your face
 
 IT2 The Dispute in the Market-place. 
 
 here after your work t'other night ! It were 
 better, perhaps, that you were in gaol for a 
 horse-thief. A pretty jest, to steal another's 
 cattle and clap them into pound ! An you 
 and your men had not been drunk with your 
 rioting, I would take the law of you ! " 
 
 Then my father stood squarely in front of 
 him, and looked Rupert Watson in the face. 
 "Master Watson," said he, *'when you talk 
 of jest and riot, I understand you not. 
 What I do understand is this — that you 
 turned your horses upon my land, from 
 whence I removed them to the parish pound. 
 And I warn you, Master Watson, in the 
 presence of these gentlemen, that this I 
 shall do again if ever you offend in like 
 manner." 
 
 Then the cloud on Rupert Watson's face 
 grew black indeed, and he poured upon my 
 father a torrent of vulgar abuse. ** Thy 
 land ! " quoth he. '' Land of thine or thy 
 fathers it never was. And I will turn my
 
 The Dispute in the Market-place. 113 
 
 cattle upon it this night, and if thou, or any 
 of thy men, dare to set foot upon the land, 
 I will shoot the trespassers through the 
 head ! " 
 
 '' Master Watson," said my father, '' I 
 care nothing for your threats. What I can 
 do for myself, I will do ; what I cannot do, 
 the law shall do for me." 
 
 *' Ay, ay," said some one in the crowd ; 
 '' law is a good word. Your two families 
 have disputed this matter for generations ; 
 why not go to law, and have done with 
 it?" 
 
 '' As for shooting of men through the 
 head," said another, ** 'tis poor talk, and I 
 trow the magistrates would have somewhat 
 to say to it." 
 
 " Who asked thy counsel ? " said Rupert 
 Watson. ** A man hath a right to defend 
 his own, hath he not ? The land, I say, is 
 mine." 
 
 ** I neither know nor care whose the land 
 
 VOL. I. 8
 
 114 The Dispute in the Market-place. 
 
 is," said an old farmer at our elbow ; " but 
 this I do know, Rupert, that thou hast never 
 put cattle on it since Castle Hill came into 
 thy hands. Why hast suddenly fallen in love 
 with it ? 'Tis but an acre or two at most." 
 
 "The land, I say, is mine," said Rupert 
 Watson once more. " And mine it shall be. 
 So look to yourself, William Dale, for if I 
 find you or yours setting foot upon it I will 
 shoot you, I say, as I would a dog ! " 
 
 " I care not for your threatening. Master 
 Watson," answered my father. " You may 
 take your own course. But if ever I find 
 cattle of yours on my land again, into the 
 parish pound they will go. And now stand 
 aside, and let me and my lad pass." 
 
 And therewith he strode up on a sudden, 
 and Rupert Watson, with one glance at his 
 great form and determined face, slunk out of 
 the doorway, and we went inside the inn, 
 and dined at the ordinary. And while we 
 were dining, I saw Rupert Watson enter.
 
 The Dispute in the Market-place. 115 
 
 and retire into a corner with a little person 
 whose manners reminded me of a weasel. 
 My father told me this was Lawyer Sharp, 
 of Wakefield. 
 
 " 'Tis the most unscrupulous attorney that 
 ever lived, Will, boy," said my father, " and 
 I doubt not he and Watson are contriving 
 some scheme against me, which they are 
 welcome to do. I care for nothing of their 
 invention." 
 
 It was vastly to my liking that most of 
 those to whom we spoke that day sided with 
 my father, and condemned Rupert W^atson, 
 both for turning out his horses on the 
 debateable piece of land, and likewise for 
 creating a disturbance at the inn-door. For 
 though no man, not even the oldest, could 
 rightly say if the -land belonged to Dales or 
 to Watsons, they yet remembered that for 
 fifty years the trouble had been allowed to 
 rest, and that it was now revived through 
 no fault of my father's.
 
 ii6 The Dispute in the Market-place. 
 
 "Rupert Watson," said the old farmer 
 who had spoken at the inn-door, " is in the 
 wrong this time. Let sleeping dogs lie, say 
 I. Now he has stirred the dog up, and 
 must not complain if it show its teeth. But 
 mind you. Master Dale, I know not if the 
 land be yours or his." 
 
 '' It has always been held to be ours in 
 our family," said my father. 
 
 "Ay, marry, and to be theirs in- their 
 family. My advice is, go to law, if ye can 
 settle it in no different fashion. Though 
 law is but a parlous method of deciding 
 a question like yon. Whether ye lose or 
 win, the lawyers will have your money." 
 
 " It is for him to decide," said my father ; 
 " I shall do nothing — only this, that if he 
 sends his cattle on the land again, I shall 
 again put them into pound." 
 
 So we went home that Saturday, and that 
 evening, and for many a following evening, 
 strict watch was kept upon the narrow strip
 
 The Dispute in the Market-place. 117 
 
 of meadow-land, for my father was deter- 
 mined that every inch of his acres should be 
 protected. But Rupert Watson made no 
 further movement, and the weeks passed by 
 till it was October, and we heard no more 
 of the matter. 
 
 Nevertheless our enemy — for I can call 
 him by no other name, considering his deeds 
 — was not idle in his efforts to vex and 
 annoy us. For one Saturday, early in 
 October, as I was talking to Jacob Trusty 
 in the fold, there came riding in at our gate 
 a man on a brown mare, whose face was 
 strange to both of us, and who immediately 
 hailed us with an inquiry if this were Dale's 
 Field ? I said " Yes " ; whereupon he con- 
 sulted a paper which he drew from his vest, 
 and then asked if William Dale were about, 
 to which I answered that my father was at 
 market, and would not be home until five or 
 six o'clock. 
 
 "Then I must needs get off my horse,
 
 ii8 The Dispute in the Market-place. 
 
 lad," said the stranger, *' and wait his return. 
 Dost think a feed of corn could be found for 
 my horse ? He has carried me four and 
 twenty miles this morning, and needs a 
 rest." 
 
 I handed the horse over to one of our 
 lads, and conducted the stranger into the 
 house, where he was received by my 
 mother, to whom he made a very polite 
 bow. 
 
 " Master Dale, mistress, is not at home, 
 I understand, but will return anon. With 
 your permission I will rest myself until he 
 comes, for I cannot go away until I have 
 seen him. I am a sheriff's officer, and have 
 a writ to serve upon him at the suit of one 
 Rupert Watson." 
 
 So it seemed that our enemy was going 
 to have the law of us after all.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 OF OUR COMING FROM YORK. 
 
 Y mother, woman-like, was somewhat 
 disturbed at the idea of having aught 
 to do with law matters, and she looked 
 exceedingly grave when the sheriffs officer 
 announced his mission. But my father, 
 coming home a little later, made light of the 
 matter, and bade the man sit down and eat 
 and drink, and conversed with him on the 
 weather and similar matters, so that the bearer 
 of Rupert Watson's writ presently departed 
 much fortified in mind and body. 
 
 " It is the best thing that could have hap- 
 pened," said my father, talking to my mother
 
 I20 Of our Coming from York. 
 
 about the matter, " for now the question will 
 be decided and done with. If the law says 
 the land is mine, mine it will be for ever ; if 
 'tis Rupert Watson's, then the law will say 
 so. And perhaps the old enmity between 
 us will die out. I have no wish to live in 
 strife with any man." 
 
 *' For all that," said my mother, ** you will 
 never be friendly with Rupert Watson. For 
 he has a bad heart, and is a cruel man, and 
 with such I am sure you will never agree." 
 
 *' Friends, perhaps not," answered my 
 father. " But it might come to us exchang- 
 ing a good-day like Christians, instead of 
 riding by on the high-road as if we were 
 sworn enemies. However, if this matter be 
 settled, our children may live at peace and 
 even friendship, if Rupert and I never do." 
 
 Now I knew that could never be, because 
 Dennis had sworn that he would hate me 
 for ever, and I knew he meant it. Nothing, 
 I felt sure, would ever make Dennis forgive
 
 Of our Coming from York. 121 
 
 me for thrashing him, and I, on my part, 
 felt no desire to make friends with him. I 
 had an instinctive dIsHke for Dennis, and 
 felt that oil and water would mix sooner than 
 he and I. However, I said nothing of this 
 to my father or mother. 
 
 When Jacob Trusty heard of the law pro- 
 ceedings, he exercised much thought upon 
 the matter, and often discussed it with me 
 of a Saturday afternoon. 
 
 '* That the land is ours," said Jacob Trusty, 
 " is certain, and yet it would sore puzzle and 
 moyther my head to give good reason for 
 thinking so. Thy great-grandfather and thy 
 grandfather, William, always claimed that 
 land, and thy father claimed it after them. 
 But then the grandfather of this black-faced 
 Watson likewise claimed it. Wherefore the 
 difficulty was the same in those days. 
 Ah ! many a bloody head there hath been 
 over that strip of meadow - land. For 
 sixty years ago either Dale or Watson was
 
 122 Of our Coming from York. 
 
 for ever driving cattle on it ; and if it were 
 a Dale, then a Watson came forth and drove 
 them off; and if it were a Watson, he had 
 to reckon with a Dale ; and first there were 
 words, and then there were blows, and then 
 there was a stiff fight, and if there were no 
 heads broken, 'twas not for want of hard 
 hitting. Howbeit, in thy grandfather's time 
 and in thy father's, matters have been quiet 
 and peaceable." 
 
 '* Shall we win the day, do you think, 
 Jacob ? " I asked. 
 
 " Nay, lad, who can tell ? One thing I 
 can tell thee without doubt, and that is, that 
 the men who will profit by this matter are 
 t-ne lawyers. Whether thy father win or lose, 
 or Rupert Watson lose or win, the lawyers 
 will fill their pockets. Wherefore, William, 
 boy, as thou goest through the world, mark 
 one thing, namely, that whenever two men 
 fall out, there will always be a third man 
 whose interest it will be to keep up the
 
 Of our Coming from York. 123 
 
 strife. For while John and Thomas are dis- 
 puting as to which of them shall have the 
 egg, Richard comes up and eats it out of 
 hand. Such is law, out of which thou wilt 
 do well to keep." 
 
 Nevertheless, it was necessary that my 
 father should enjoy the services of an 
 attorney, and he therefore placed his case 
 in the hands of Lawyer Hook, who had 
 managed all his difficult matters for many 
 years. Mr. Hook was considerably exercised 
 in his own mind over this dispute 'twixt the 
 Dales and Watsons, for he could not lay his 
 hands on anything which served to decide the 
 matter in our favour. Neither was he able 
 to see how judge and jury could settle thfe 
 matter. ** For indeed, Master Dale," said 
 he, having ridden over one afternoon to talk 
 with my father, "the evidence for and 
 against is as conflicting as any I ever knew. 
 You say on your side that your family hath 
 always claimed the land, and you bring half
 
 124 Of our Coming from York. 
 
 a score of ancient gaffers and gammers to 
 say the same. Now, Rupert Watson saith 
 that It hath always been matter of certainty 
 in his family that the land is theirs, and he 
 too bringeth various old folk to support him. 
 However, we shall, maybe, find light some- 
 where. In any case, I fear it will cost you 
 a pretty penny, and unless you have some 
 great love for the land — 'tis, I understand, 
 but a narrow strip — I would let it go." 
 
 But my father would not hear of that. 
 He had no mind to throw away his money 
 in law, but he would not yield a yard of the 
 land his fathers had left him. He must 
 fight Rupert Watson on this point, what- 
 ever it cost. 
 
 A few nights after that we were sitting 
 round the fire in my mother's parlour, and 
 my father was telling us of some incident at 
 the market, from which he had just come, 
 when one of our maids came in and said that 
 Jacob Trusty was in the kitchen, and wanted
 
 Of our Coming from York. 125 
 
 to speak to the master. My father would 
 have risen and gone to him, but just then 
 Jacob himself appeared and stood within the 
 doorway, having first pushed the girl out 
 and closed the door. 
 
 *' Master and mistress,'' said Jacob, "there 
 are some things best said without hearers, so 
 I make bold to come in here where are no 
 lads and lasses to hear us, save only your 
 own, which have a right to hear all." 
 
 *' Sit down, Jacob," said my father. ** Say 
 thy say, man." 
 
 Jacob, however, remained standing, lean- 
 ing on his thick staff. " Master," said he, 
 *' I have been thinking about this matter of 
 the land. Also the other day Lawyer Hook 
 met me on the turnpike, and asked me some 
 questions, and I could see that he had little 
 confidence. Now it came to me to ask you 
 if there are no papers. Papers always go 
 with land, so I've heard." 
 
 ''Whatever I have, Jacob, are with Mr.
 
 126 Of our Coming from York. 
 
 Hook," said my father. '* And old as they 
 are, they are no good on this point." 
 
 " That brings me to what I want to say," 
 said Jacob. '' I served your grandfather 
 first when I was a lad ten years old. There 
 were four of us, Tom Hodge, Anthony 
 Boone, Dick Simpson, and myself, all slept 
 in that chamber against the apple loft. 
 There was an old chest in that chamber full 
 of books and papers, and as never a one of 
 us could read we used to wonder at them. 
 Why not look in there, master ? " 
 
 " The box is still there," said my mother. 
 
 " But the papers were taken out when I 
 was a lad," said my father. '* Mr. Hook 
 has them now. However, 'tis good counsel, 
 Jacob, and I'll look in the box again." 
 
 While Jacob went into the kitchen to drink 
 a mug of ale, my father told me to get a 
 candle and accompany him upstairs to the 
 chamber mentioned, which was quite in ac- 
 cordance with my desires. So we ascended
 
 Of our Coming from York. 127 
 
 to the chamber, which was in a remote corner 
 of the house, and had long been given up to 
 the storing away of ancient lumber. Thus 
 there was in it old saddles of curious fashion, 
 and rusty bits and stirrup-irons, together 
 with quaintly carved chairs, broken and 
 whole, and many other odds and ends 
 accumulated in a house which has stood the 
 brunt of some three hundred years. Amidst 
 this mass of dust-covered lumber stood the 
 oak chest spoken of by Jacob Trusty. 
 
 " It is empty, I fear. Will," said my father, 
 pulling it into the middle of the floor; **but 
 we will examine it to please old Jacob, who 
 means well. Ah ! you see there is nothing 
 at all in it." 
 
 Nor was there, as far as we could see, for 
 the interior was bare and empty, save for a 
 thick coat of dust. I looked at the ancient 
 chest curiously, holding the candle where the 
 light would fall on its quaint carvings and 
 the grotesque figures on the ends.
 
 128 Of our Coming from York. 
 
 "My great-grandfather kept his papers 
 and valuables In this chest, Will," said my 
 father. " See, here are drawers to put 
 money in. And there is a secret drawer. 
 See if thou canst find it, lad." 
 
 But I could not, and did not make out 
 where it was until my father drew out a 
 drawer which had a false bottom, and this 
 being removed, a small receptacle was laid 
 bare. 
 
 ** It is not very large,'* said my father, 
 ''but it sufficed to store anything especially 
 worth the keeping." 
 
 Having admired the Ingenious manner of 
 the contrivance, I essayed to put the drawer 
 in its place again, but found that It would 
 not fit into the cavity prepared for it. Some- 
 thing seemed to lie In the way, and prevent 
 the drawer from fitting properly. Putting 
 my hand into the hole to discover the 
 reason, my fingers encountered a thin 
 packet of paper which I Immediately drew
 
 Of our Coming from York. 129 
 
 out and held up to my father's wondering 
 gaze. 
 
 " What is this, lad ? " said he. '' Papers ? 
 They must have been placed in the secret 
 drawer or behind it, and slipped underneath. 
 'Tis an ancient-looking packet, too." 
 
 That indeed it was, for the cover was 
 yellow with age, and the handwriting upon 
 it was of such an ancient fashion that neither 
 my father nor myself could decipher it. So 
 we carried it downstairs, and having called 
 Jacob Trusty into the parlour to see what 
 his counsel had procured for us, my mother 
 took the packet to see what she could make 
 out of it. Having stripped off the cover, 
 she found some large papers with seals 
 attached to them, but despite her clerkship 
 she could make naught out of any of them, 
 save that on the margin of one there was 
 somewhat written which appeared to be of 
 more recent date than the body of the 
 writing. This, after some pains, she made 
 
 VOL. I. 9
 
 130 Of our Coming from York. 
 
 out to be as follows : *' Ye cloase lying next 
 to Wattson's land at Castle Hill ys myne by 
 this deede. W.D. 15 10." Which we took 
 to show that one of our ancestors at least 
 had something more than supposition to rest 
 on when claiming the narrow strip of land. 
 My father fastened up the papers again, and 
 having charged us all to say nothing to any 
 one about them, the next day he carried 
 them over to Lawyer Hook, and told him 
 how we had come across them. Lawyer 
 Hook, after having with much labour read 
 various of the papers, and particularly the 
 one bearing the marginal note, was much 
 pleased, and informed my father that we now- 
 had a perfect case, and should give Masters 
 Watson and Sharpe such a surprise as they 
 had not reckoned for. 
 
 " For this deed, Master Dale," said he, 
 '' proves that in the reign of Henry the 
 Seventh the Watson of that day did sell to 
 the then William Dale this bit of land in
 
 Of our Coming from York. 131 
 
 o 
 
 exchange for three acres of land which had 
 belonged to your yeomanry, but was some- 
 what inconvenient of access to you, but easily 
 come at by him. So now rest content, 
 Master Dale, and say naught to any one of 
 this, and let Sharpe gather together what 
 evidence he can, and when we are called on 
 for our defence, we will produce our deed, 
 and come away from the Assizes victorious." 
 So the time went by until December, and 
 in the second week of that month the judges 
 came to hold the Assize at York, and it was 
 necessary for my father to attend. Now, 
 he had made me a promise just before the 
 dispute with Rupert Watson, that the next 
 time business took him to York he would 
 carry me with him, so that I might see the 
 great city and its Minster. You may be sure 
 that I neoflected not to remind him of his 
 promise, now that I knew he was bound to 
 go to York. And though it yet wanted a 
 fortnight of the holidays, he stood to his
 
 132 Of our Coming from York. 
 
 word, and begged leave of Dr. Parsons to 
 take me away from school earlier than usual, 
 which leave the doctor granted when he 
 heard whither we were bound. 
 
 On the 14th day of December, then, we 
 set out for York, my father mounted on his 
 brown mare and I riding Dumpling. We 
 had but twenty-four miles to travel, and I 
 was much set up at the prospect of riding 
 along the Great North Road and forming 
 one of the never-ceasing procession which 
 was continually passing and repassing to or 
 from London and York. So we said good- 
 bye to my mother and Lucy and rode away, 
 and having dined at Sherburn, which lies 
 almost halfway between Dale's Field and 
 York, we journeyed forward to the city in 
 the afternoon, and arrived there long ere 
 darkness had set in. As I had never seen 
 York before, I was much impressed by my 
 first sight of that fair and beautiful city, 
 which lies like a jewel in the midst of the
 
 Of our Coming from York. 133 
 
 rolling meadows and moors of Yorkshire, 
 and I could do naught else but admire and 
 wonder at Its various sights. First, there 
 was the Minster, which struck me with the 
 most profound astonishment, being of such 
 immensity in size and conception, that our 
 church at home, though a fine one, seemed 
 quite small In comparison. Then there were 
 the city walls and the bars, through which 
 we passed to enter the town, with their port- 
 cullises and guards and spikes over the 
 towers, on which still stood the grisly heads 
 of some that had been executed awhile before. 
 And though the Minster seemed vast enough 
 to hold all the people In the county, there 
 were churches everywhere, some of them of 
 exceeding great age. What with the Minster, 
 and the churches, and the city walls, and the 
 fine houses and people, I was thrown into a 
 whirl of amazement, which did but increase 
 the next day when Lawyer Hook conducted 
 us to the Castle, where the Assizes were
 
 134 Of our Coming from York. 
 
 opened, and It was necessary for us to attend. 
 There did I first behold the majesty of the 
 law, and saw a judge sitting on the bench In 
 scarlet robes and ermine, with many lawyers 
 before him arguing and disputing, and the 
 twelve honest men in the jury-box wondering 
 which was right and which wrong. Now, 
 Indeed, I need say little about our case, 
 which was not called for some three days 
 after we had reached York, there being 
 many matters to deal with before we could 
 be attended to. When it came on at last It 
 was speedily over, for when Rupert Watson*s 
 side had put before judge and jury all they 
 knew or could Invent, our counsel produced 
 the ancient deed, and the matter was settled, 
 and the land ours for ever without dispute. 
 And the judge having said some sharp words 
 about hastily rushing into litigation, ordered 
 Rupert Watson to pay all the costs we had 
 been put to, the business was over, and we 
 were free to go where we pleased. I could
 
 Of our Coming from York. 135 
 
 have well done to stay awhile in York and 
 see more of the city at my leisure, but my 
 father was anxious to reach home and tell 
 my mother of our success. So having 
 dined at our inn and paid the score for 
 ourselves and our beasts, we mounted the 
 latter and set out homewards, well pleased 
 with the result of our journey. 
 
 It was well on into the afternoon when 
 we left York, and having paused awhile 
 at Sherburn to give the horses a feed, the 
 darkness came on suddenly and speedily 
 surrounded us. This by itself was no great 
 matter, for the brown mare and Dumpling 
 could both have taken their way homeward 
 blindfold. But as Providence ruled it, there 
 came upon us a heavy snowstorm as we de- 
 scended the hill from Byram into Ferrybridge, 
 and this confused our cattle, so that progress 
 was slow, Dumpling in particular objecting to 
 the snow, which drove right against us as we 
 pressed along and made our faces tingle with
 
 136 Of our Coming from York. 
 
 its sharpness. However, we gained Ferry- 
 bridge, and after a short stay there entered 
 upon the last three miles of our journey, it 
 being then eight o'clock in the evening and 
 the snow coming down faster than ever. 
 
 Now the road 'twixt Ferrybridge and 
 Darrington is a lonely one, and never over 
 pleasant to ride along at any time of 
 night. There were no carriages or coaches 
 going along on this night, and we met 
 nothing but a post-chaise going north. The 
 snow increased at every step, and the beasts 
 beneath us groaned with their efforts to 
 keep their footing and persevere on their 
 homeward way. 
 
 "'Tis a wild night, Will," said my father, 
 who rode on my right hand ; ** and thy 
 mother will be anxious for us. We shall be 
 home in half an hour an' we keep at it. 
 Shake Dumpling up, lad ; she is half-afraid 
 
 of the snow, and will " 
 
 I never knew what more my father would
 
 Of our Coming from York. 137 
 
 have said. As he spoke, a figure seemed to 
 rise up out of the storm right in our path. 
 I heard a sharp report of firearms and saw 
 the fiash. My father fell from his horse 
 without even a groan. 
 
 1^
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 OF THE SORROW THAT CAME AFTER. 
 
 WAS too much horrified by the sudden 
 attack upon my father to cry out or 
 even to move. I sat for what seemed an age 
 without even drawing my breath. DumpHng 
 quivered beneath me ; I heard the mare 
 shaking at her side. It seemed to me Hke 
 some awful dream, from which I should 
 presently awake to find myself in my little 
 sleeping-chamber at Dale's Field. And then 
 I suddenly realized the horror that had 
 come to overwhelm me and mine, and my 
 heart seemed to burst into one terrible cry. 
 '* Father, oh, father ! "
 
 Of the Sorrow that came after. 139 
 
 Alas ! there was no response. Trembling 
 with fear I got down from Dumpling's back 
 and felt my way through the darkness to the 
 mare's bridle. She was shivering and 
 quaking all over, and pushed her nose 
 against my arm as if to ask protection. I 
 fastened her by the bridle to Dumpling and 
 bade them stand still. Poor brutes, what 
 with the storm and the sudden attack they 
 were thoroughly cowed and affrighted, and 
 they huddled together and held their heads 
 to the ground, as beasts only will when they 
 are completely yielded up to fear. And 
 then I began to search about in the snow, 
 and presently stumbled over my father's body. 
 
 He was dead — I knew that as soon as 
 I touched him. I knew it by the awful 
 stillness that lay over him, by the perfectly 
 rigid manner in which his tall form was 
 extended on the snow. I laid my hands on 
 him, on his face, breast, arms, and suddenly 
 felt them bathed in something that ran fast
 
 140 Of the Sorrow that came after. 
 
 and warm from his heart. And the touch of 
 his blood overwhelmed me, and thinking 
 of my mother waiting for us at home, and of 
 Lucy and myself without a father, I broke 
 down and threw my arms about him, and 
 sobbed like any girl, while the poor beasts 
 at my side sniffed at me and seemed to 
 sorrow with my sorrow. 
 
 And then all of a sudden I sprang to my 
 feet with a mad fierce thought newborn in 
 my heart. My father had been murdered ! 
 This was no ordinary highway affair, no 
 stoppage of unoffending travellers by high- 
 wayman or footpad. The man who had 
 come upon us out of the darkness had dis- 
 charged his deadly missive and fled away as 
 swiftly as he came. He had not waited to 
 rob and plunder, as he might well have done 
 for aught that I, a lad, could have done to 
 prevent him. It was no murder for the 
 sake of spoil, but committed out of hatred 
 and envy. And in all the world my father
 
 Of the Sorrow that came after. 141 
 
 had but one enemy, and that was Rupert 
 Watson. It must have been his hand that 
 had shot my father down ; It could be none 
 but his. And with this conviction strong in 
 mind I knelt down in the snow and laid my 
 hand on my dead father's breast again, and 
 swore solemnly never to rest until I had 
 brought his murderer to a fitting end. 
 
 When I looked up again, perplexed as to 
 what I must do next, I saw a light drawing 
 near along the road from Ferrybridge. 
 From the way in which it danced up and 
 down in the darkness I took it to be carried 
 by a horseman. I raised my voice and 
 shouted loudly through the storm, and pre- 
 sently two men, cloaked to the chin, came 
 cautiously up and turned the light upon me 
 as I stood in the way, with the still figure 
 behind me and the horses smelling at it in 
 fear and wonder. 
 
 " God's mercy ! " said one, " what is this ? 
 Here seems foul work."
 
 142 Of the Sorrow that came after. 
 
 They were looking past me at the group 
 behind. 
 
 " Sir," I cried, *' my father Is dead — mur- 
 dered ! We were coming home from York 
 — a man rode up to us here — he fired — my 
 father fell — he is dead, dead ! " 
 
 Before I had finished they were off their 
 horses, and one was kneeling in the snow at 
 my father's side. The other turned the 
 lantern's light upon his dead face. I turned 
 away ; it was more than I could bear, to see 
 that. 
 
 "He is dead," said the first. '' He has 
 been shot through the heart. A foul busi- 
 ness. Somehow, methlnks I know him." 
 
 *' It is William Dale," I said. '' William 
 Dale of Dale s Field." 
 
 *' And thou art my little friend Will," said 
 he, rising from his knees. '' I thought I 
 knew thee, poor Will. What, dost not 
 remember me ? " 
 
 Then I looked at him and saw that It was
 
 Of the Sorrow that came after. 143 
 
 Philip Lisle. He laid his hand on my head, 
 and patted it affectionately. 
 
 '' Poor lad, poor lad ! " said he. '' I would 
 we could have had a merrier meeting. This 
 man. Will, where went he after he had fired 
 upon thy father ? " 
 
 ** I cannot say," I answered. *' He seemed 
 to ride upon us all in a moment, and I saw 
 his pistol flash, and by the light of it he was 
 a tall man on a great horse, but he was 
 gone as quick as the flash when it was 
 over." 
 
 " What ! stayed he not to rob ? Then, 
 Will, this is no common murder. Thy 
 father, had he any enemies ? " 
 
 ** Yes, sir, one, and one only — Rupert 
 Watson, of Castle Hill." 
 
 *' Ah ! I have heard somewhat of that old 
 dispute. Lad, doubt not that whoever hath 
 killed thy father will be punished in the 
 end. And now let us see how we can get 
 him home. Where is the nearest house ? "
 
 144 Of the Sorrow that came after. 
 
 " There is a farmstead across the fields," I 
 answered. " We can get a cart there." 
 
 '' Then go there with me, Will, and my 
 friend Captain Ready here will keep watch 
 over thy father till we return. Stay, let us 
 lift him to the hedge-side. Steady, Jack, 
 thou and I have strong arms. Poor William 
 Dale, 'tis a sad end for him, but I had rather 
 be he than his slayer. And now for this 
 farmstead." 
 
 So we ploughed our way across the field, 
 leaving Philip Lisle's companion watching 
 by my father, and after some difficulty we 
 procured a cart, and a man to drive it, and 
 returned, and the men lifted the body in, 
 and we set off along the turnpike in the 
 direction of Dale's Field, I riding Dumpling 
 and leading the mare by the bridle. At first 
 as we went along Philip Lisle and Captain 
 Ready conversed in low whispers, but 
 presently the former came over to me and 
 laid his hand on my arm.
 
 Of the Sorrow that came after. 145 
 
 *'Will," said Philip Lisle, "some one must 
 needs ride forward and break this bad news 
 to thy poor mother. What think you, Will, 
 shall we leave him with Ready and ride on- 
 ward ? It will be well for her to have thee 
 at hand w^hen she hears this sad matter." 
 
 So we rode forward through the falling 
 snow, and the cart came rumbling after us 
 Avith Captain Ready riding at the side. And 
 as we rode along I could say nothing at all, 
 I knew naught, and saw naught. Only 
 there was a mist of red all about me and a 
 fierce, burning desire to lay hands upon the 
 murderer who had robbed me of a father 
 and my mother of her husband. It was late 
 when we reached the open gate at Dale's 
 Field and rode through it into the fold. 
 They heard our horses' feet in the house ; 
 the door opened, warmth and light came 
 through it from the cheery kitchen. I saw 
 my mother standing in the open doorway 
 to welcome us, and Lucy peeped out from 
 
 VOL. I. 10
 
 146 Of the Sorrow that came after. 
 
 behind her gown, and beyond them was 
 Jacob Trusty holding a mug of ale in his 
 hand. And at the sight of the old familiar 
 place the tears came rolling fast and hot and 
 very bitter from my eyes. 
 
 '' Be brave, Will," whispered Philip Lisle. 
 *' Be brave, lad. Remember thy mother and 
 be a man." 
 
 We advanced into the light. My mother 
 came a step forward to meet us with a cry 
 of joy at our return. And then she suddenly 
 stopped, for she caught sight of Philip Lisle's 
 face where she had expected to see her 
 husband's. And at that I could bear it no 
 longer, but ran forward and threw my arms 
 about her, and burst into such tears as I had 
 never shed before and have never shed 
 since. 
 
 '' Will ! " she said. '* Will ! what is it, my 
 dear ? Your father ? " 
 
 ** Oh, mother, mother, mother ! " was all 
 I could say.
 
 Of the Sorrow that came after. 147 
 
 I felt her arms suddenly tighten about me, 
 and I knew she was looking at Philip Lisle. 
 
 " Madam," said Philip Lisle. ''Madam—" 
 
 " Speak out, sir," she said, '' there is some 
 evil happened. Tell me all, I pray you." 
 
 "God in Heaven knows, madam," said 
 he, '* I would have suffered aught rather 
 than bring you this news. I pray you be 
 brave to endure it." 
 
 " I am brave, sir," she answered. " Tell 
 me it all. My husband — is he dead ? " 
 
 But Philip Lisle could say no more. He 
 bowed his head and turned away to hide his 
 own emotion. 
 
 My mother took the fearful blow bravely. 
 She went indoors and sat down, still holding 
 me in her arms and striving to comfort me. 
 Never to the day of my death shall I forget 
 that scene. My mother sat by the fire, and 
 I leaned my head against her, striving to 
 keep down the great sobs that seemed like 
 to choke me, and Lucy had stolen up and
 
 148 Of the Sorrow that came after. 
 
 was weeping softly at my mother's side, and 
 before us at the table stood Jacob Trusty, 
 still holding his mug of ale, and one of the 
 maids stood behind him, and the doorway 
 into the back kitchen was filled with the 
 scared faces of the ploughmen and boys, 
 and through the door into the parlour I 
 could see the table set with prodigal fulness 
 in anticipation of our return. And in the 
 middle of the kitchen stood Philip Lisle, his 
 long black cloak spangled with snowflakes. 
 
 At last my mother raised her head and 
 looked at him. ** Tell me how it came 
 about," she said, in a calm, steady voice that 
 frightened me, because it seemed so un- 
 natural at that time. " Tell me, sir." 
 
 But Philip Lisle shook his head and 
 pointed to me. '' Your son, madam, can 
 best do that. Take him inside and let him 
 tell you his news, and suffer me to make 
 some preparations, for they are bringing 
 Master Dale here and will soon arrive."
 
 Of the Sorrow that came after. 149 
 
 And so we went Into the parlour, and as 
 soon as I could I told my mother all the 
 sad story. And yet she could not weep, but 
 held my hands between her own, and some- 
 times they gripped mine tightly, and some- 
 times they were hot and then cold, and there 
 was a look came into her eyes and in her 
 face which I had never seen there before. 
 But soon they called for her instructions, and 
 she had to go about and give orders, and 
 presently came Captain Ready with the cart, 
 and they carried my father across his own 
 
 threshold, and But of that night I will 
 
 write no more. 
 
 When it was noised abroad the next day 
 that William Dale had been foully murdered 
 on the highway between Ferrybridge and 
 Darrlngton, there was such a commotion 
 in the neighbourhood as no one ever 
 remembered. Philip Lisle and his friend 
 Ready had remained at the inn at Darring- 
 ton, and they were questioned on all sides.
 
 150 Of the Sorrow that came after. 
 
 As for our house, it was besieged all day, 
 for my mother's friends came from neigh- 
 bouring villages, and men on horseback rode 
 up to inquire if the bad news were true, and 
 Parson Drumbleforth walked over early in 
 the morning to comfort my mother. I think 
 that all of us would have been happier if my 
 mother had broken down and wept, but she 
 maintained a calm spirit ; only those who 
 knew could see from her white face and 
 fixed eyes that she was suffering more than 
 any one could imagine. Nevertheless, she 
 kept her sorrow down, and comforted me 
 and Lucy, and made arrangements for the 
 burying of my father's body, and did things 
 so thoroughly that all admired her bravery. 
 
 "Nevertheless, lad," said Jacob Trusty, who 
 was talking with me on the second day, " I 
 like not to see it, for 'tis not natural. If she 
 would cry now, it would be a comfort and 
 a thing to praise God for. I pray she may 
 break down when they take him away. For
 
 Of the Sorrow that came after. 151 
 
 it is a bad thing, William, boy, to keep one's 
 grief bottled up as it were. 'Tis like a dove 
 which you may prison in a cage, and which 
 will make no murmur, but will die silently. 
 Howbeit, she will feel it badly when they 
 fasten him up for burial." 
 
 Jacob had felt my father's death very 
 keenly. When I could bear it he had taken 
 me on one side and asked me the manner of 
 it, and I had told him all I could think of. 
 Jacob's face grew grave and thoughtful as he 
 listened, and he shook his head often. 
 
 '* What do you think of it, Jacob .^" I said 
 at last. 
 
 " Nay, lad, nay, what can I think ? Thy 
 father had but one enemy in all the world. 
 See how befriended he was ! Have they 
 not been here this past two days, gentle 
 and simple, high and low, so that the door- 
 step hath never cooled of them ? Hast 
 hearkened how they praised him, how all 
 had a good word for him ? Nay, weep not,
 
 152 Of the Sorrow that came after. 
 
 William, lad. Be proud that all men 
 thought so well of thy poor father. But, 
 William, one man hath not come, and only 
 one of all the neighbourhood." 
 
 '' You mean Rupert Watson ? " 
 
 Jacob nodded his gray head. *'Ay," 
 said he, *' him I do mean. Certainly, seeing 
 that they had never been friends, and had 
 lately had extra cause of unpleasantness, it 
 might seem strange to some if Rupert 
 Watson had come here. But I can re- 
 member that when thy grandfather died 
 this Watson's father was bidden to the 
 funeral and came like a Christian. But 
 this one stays aside, and hath never sent 
 word of sympathy." 
 
 "Jacob," I said, "do you think it was 
 Rupert Watson who did it ? " 
 
 *' I know not, lad, I know not. Let it be." 
 
 " Nay," I said, " that I will not. If he 
 killed my father I will fasten it on him and 
 kill him."
 
 Of the Sorrow that came after. 153 
 
 '' Whisht, lad, whisht ! " said Jacob Trusty. 
 *' Thou art too young to talk of killing. 
 Rest assured that whoever killed thy father 
 will be sorry enow for it. For there was 
 never crime done in this world, lad, that did 
 not come home to the doer. It may be long 
 first, but come it will." 
 
 I had to tell all I knew about the manner 
 of my father's death to the coroner and his 
 jury, and they examined me at great length, 
 and with me Philip Lisle and his friend 
 Captain Ready. But there was nothing in 
 our testimony that was clear, and they gave 
 in a verdict that my father was murdered by 
 some unknown person, and there was an end 
 of it. And two days after that we buried 
 him in the churchyard at Darrington, and 
 there was such a throng of folk as I had 
 never seen before, people coming from far 
 and near to pay their respects to his memory. 
 And Lucy and I went and followed after the 
 coffin, and the people said kind things to us,
 
 154 Of the Sorrow that came after. 
 
 but my mother stayed at home. Ah me ! 
 without him the house seemed shorn of all 
 its light and life, and when we came back 
 from the funeral and I realized that I never 
 should again see him or hear him, never 
 again touch his hand, or learn from him, I 
 broke down utterly, and went to my mother's 
 side and laid my head on her knee and wept 
 my heart out. And presently I felt her hot 
 tears drop on my face, and so at last she 
 wept and relieved her heart and was some- 
 what comforted. 
 
 Now, after my father had been buried, 
 men began to talk of the manner of his 
 death and to ask questions and give opinions. 
 And knowing that he had but one enemy, 
 and that enemy a man over whom he had 
 just achieved a triumph, there were not 
 wanting those who hinted in broad fashion 
 that it was Rupert Watson who had slain 
 my father, out of hatred and revenge. And 
 little by little men began to look darkly
 
 Of the Sorrow that came after. 155 
 
 upon him when they met him in high-road 
 or market-place, and some would hardly 
 speak to him, and even his associates looked 
 fearfully at him. So patent did these things 
 become that he could not fail to notice them, 
 for indeed people began to shun him as they 
 would the plague. 
 
 But Rupert Watson was not the man to 
 patiently suffer this, and setting us down as 
 the originators of the feeling against him, he 
 rode over one afternoon and drew rein at 
 our door, and knocked thereon. And my 
 mother having caught sight of him went out 
 herself, and I followed, my heart beating 
 against my ribs until it was like to burst. 
 
 " How now, dame ! " said he, looking 
 angry and black at us, *' what is this that you 
 are saying of me? Think you I have naught 
 to do but slay men o' nights ? I would have 
 you know that there is law for those that set 
 malicious reports abroad." 
 
 Then my mother looked straight at him.
 
 156 Of the Sorrow that came after. 
 
 *' Master Watson," she said, '* I have set no 
 reports abroad, nor shall I. I know not 
 who killed my dear husband. But I am 
 very sure, Master Watson, that not all the 
 sorrow and pain which I and these children 
 have suffered will equal one tithe of the 
 sorrow that God will bring down on the 
 head of his murderer." 
 
 And therewith she went inside and closed 
 the door, and Rupert Watson rode out of 
 the yard with his head bent down, looking, 
 said one of our maids, as if he had seen a 
 spirit.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 OF THE PASSAGE OF MANY YEARS. 
 
 ^^ FTER that time many years came and 
 went and brought nothing of moment 
 with them. It seemed indeed to me that 
 however the great world's affairs might go, 
 naught disturbed us at Dale's Field, where 
 the seasons travelled round with monotonous 
 regularity. Now it was winter and now 
 spring, and with the latter came fresh flowers 
 and the bleating of lambs, and summer 
 followed only to be driven forth by apple- 
 cheeked autumn, and so the year completed 
 its cycle and was in its turn compelled to 
 give way to its successor. For I perceived
 
 158 Of the Passage of Many Years. 
 
 at last that I was grown head and shoulders 
 above my mother, who herself was a tall 
 woman, and I was not a little proud to feel 
 that I was approaching manhood. 
 
 I had pleaded hard after my father's 
 sudden death to be allowed to remain at 
 home and help my mother in managing the 
 farm, for I knew that she would need a 
 helping hand and head where there was so 
 much to do. There would, I foresaw, be 
 many an occasion when she would need 
 some one to carry messages and ride forth 
 on business, and it seemed to me that I 
 was the one to undertake such affairs. And 
 for a time my mother, feeling the loneliness 
 of her position, was minded to keep me 
 at home to help her. But having taken 
 counsel, as was her wont upon all important 
 matters, with Parson Drumbleforth, she 
 considered it best that I should go back 
 to Dr. Parsons for a twelvemonth at 
 least.
 
 Of the Passage of Many Years. 159 
 
 '* Thou wilt do thy poor mother most 
 good, Will," said Parson Drumbleforth, ''by- 
 going back to thy book and attending there- 
 to. As to farm matters, she hath Jacob 
 Trusty to assist her, and a wiser man in 
 husbandry I know not. Go back then, lad, 
 to my good friend Doctor Parsons, and mind 
 thy book for the space of a year, and get 
 some strength into those great bones of 
 thine against the time when thou wilt be 
 master of Dale's Field." 
 
 And with that I was fain to be content, 
 and returned to school, determined to do 
 my duty there until such times as I was 
 called to do it elsewhere. Yet I cared little 
 about book-learning, for my head was always 
 running after what things were going on at 
 Dale's Field, and I fear that my mind was 
 often with Jacob Trusty and Timothy Grass 
 when it ought to have been immersed in 
 far diverse matters. It was, for example, 
 a hard thing to sit in the ancient school-
 
 i6o Of the Passage of Many Years. 
 
 house on a fine spring morning, staring at 
 the grammar and remembering that at that 
 very moment Jacob Trusty was probably 
 counting the young lambs in the home 
 meadow. At such times I used to wish 
 that I could jump across the country and 
 join Jacob for an hour, so inviting was the 
 thought of the green fields and bright sun- 
 shine. However, I had a good deal of 
 consolation in the weekly home-going, for 
 I ran off homewards as soon as school was 
 over on Friday, and did not^ return until 
 Monday. By my mother's pleasure I was 
 often accompanied on these week-end visits 
 by one or other of my fellows, Ben Tuckett, 
 or Tom Thorpe, and on the Saturday we 
 were as often as not joined by Jack 
 Drumbleforth, with whom we had many a 
 royal day at birds'-nesting, so that the 
 country round there became as familiar to 
 us as the lines on our hands. And once or 
 twice at holiday times I had all three lads
 
 Of the Passage of Many Years. i6i 
 
 to stay with me at Dale's Field, and our 
 merrymaking was great. 
 
 So the time went on and I was growing 
 every month and assuming vast proportions, 
 so that people who knew me not stared 
 in astonishment on learning my age, and 
 thought me older than I was. For at my 
 fifteenth year I was nearly six feet high and 
 well-fashioned into the bargain, being broad- 
 shouldered and properly proportioned, and 
 having nothing of the beanstalk about me 
 as so many fast-growing lads have. More- 
 over, I was developing considerable strength 
 and could lift and carry a load of wheat or 
 potatoes as easily as if it were a pike-staff. 
 But Jacob Trusty would not allow me to 
 do much in that way. 
 
 " Husband thy strength, William," he was 
 wont to say, " husband thy strength. For 
 what orood will It do thee to show folk how 
 strong thou art now ? 'Tis a fine sight, 
 doubtless, to see so young a lad possess the 
 
 VOL. I. II
 
 1 62 Of the Passage of Many Years. 
 
 strength of a grown man, but such things 
 are, after all, but in the way of sight-seeing 
 and afford only a passing curiosity. Keep 
 thy strength, lad, for thy manhood, for thou 
 mayst find a time of blows, and worse, 
 coming." 
 
 Now when I was fifteen I told my mother 
 with all respect that I thought it time I was 
 busied about the farm and learning the 
 active duties of life. And in this view I was 
 supported by Dr. Parsons, who drove over 
 to Dale's Field one day during the holidays 
 in order to talk with my mother about me. 
 I can see him now as he sat in my mother's 
 parlour, a little round figure in sober black, 
 with a bald head and gold spectacles, over 
 which he would occasionally blink at me, 
 as if wondering at my great height and 
 breadth. 
 
 " Mistress Dale," said the Doctor, " as 
 for your great lad here, I fear he must leave 
 me. For look you, he Is a man already
 
 Of the Passage of Many Years. 163 
 
 in size, a regular Anak, and towers head 
 and shoulders above his fellows." 
 
 '' As he does above me, sir," said my 
 mother, with a smile. 
 
 " Yea, and above me, his master. Well, 
 dame, but the lad's heart is always with ye 
 here, and his head is always running on 
 sheep and cattle, turnip and wheat, sowing 
 and reaping. And so now, having made 
 him into a fair scholar, let him set to and 
 make a better farmer." 
 
 *' I trust he has done his duty, sir ? " said 
 my mother. 
 
 "He hath been a good lad, mistress, a 
 good lad indeed. For if he hath been slow 
 he hath made sure, which is high praise. 
 Yea, I am well enough pleased with thee. 
 Will, and wish thee well." 
 
 And so I was fairly entered upon my 
 life's business, which, as I understood it, was 
 to do my duty to the land which my fathers 
 had left me and hand it forward to my
 
 164 Of the Passage of Many Years. 
 
 successors even better than when I found 
 it. I need not tell you that I entered into 
 my new mode of life with great eagerness. 
 A proud lad I was when my mother bought 
 me a new horse whereon to ride about the 
 farm, and fitted me up in addition with a 
 new saddle and bridle. My old schoolmates 
 envied me not a little when they saw my 
 new state. They, too, were leaving school 
 and going into the world, but none of them 
 were thrown into such pleasant occupation 
 as mine. I at least thought so, and so I 
 believe did they. For Jack Drumbleforth 
 was going to Oxford, so that he might in 
 time become a parson, and Tom Thorpe 
 had been articled to Mr. Hook the lawyer, 
 and would henceforth have to live amongst 
 the parchment and ink, while poor Ben 
 Tuckett, meeting the worst fate of all, was 
 apprenticed to a grocer of Pontefract and 
 liked the prospect ill. 
 
 *' You are the one to be envied, Will,"
 
 Of the Passage of Many Years. 165 
 
 said Jack Drumbleforth, '' for you will be 
 able to breathe fresh air every minute of the 
 day if you are so minded, while I am poring 
 over old books and while Tom is hunting 
 ancient parchments and poor Ben is frying 
 in the grocer's shop. However, lads, 'tis 
 all in a life and will be all the same a 
 hundred years hence. I dare say we shall 
 all meet again sooner or later." 
 
 But with Jack Drumbleforth we did not 
 meet often during the next few years, for 
 he presently went away to Oxford and was 
 entered at one of the Colleges, and only 
 came home to see his father once a year in 
 the summer time. But Tom Thorpe and 
 Ben Tuckett used to come to Dale's Field 
 often, for they were both apprenticed in 
 Pontefract, and it was a pleasant walk across 
 the meadows, so that they both took to 
 coming every Sunday, and we made them 
 heartily welcome and looked for them as a 
 regular thing. And in the summer, when
 
 1 66 Of the Passage of Many Years. 
 
 Jack Drumbleforth was at home, we had 
 some gay meetings, for Jack was always full 
 of life and suffered no one to be dull in his 
 presence. He would come and stay all day 
 in our harvest field, eating and drinking with 
 me and the men, and making merry with all 
 until the sun set. And we always held our 
 harvest-home supper before the time came 
 for Jack to go back to his College, for he 
 professed that he lived upon the remem- 
 brance of it for all the succeeding winter. 
 
 So the years went on, quietly and unevent- 
 fully for us at Dale's Field. Time had some- 
 what healed our great sorrow, though It 
 could never wholly destroy it. My mother 
 had grown resigned, even happy again, and 
 she took great pride in her children. Lucy 
 was growing a fine girl by that time, and 
 was a great help in the house, for she 
 seemed to possess my mother's clever ways, 
 and was an adept at all domestic matters of 
 preserving and baking and cooking and so
 
 Of the Passage of Many Years. 167 
 
 forth. She was growing up not unHke my 
 mother, that is to say, she was a tall, well- 
 made girl with pleasant features and kind 
 eyes and brown hair, which I believe Master 
 Ben Tuckett learnt to admire even in our 
 school days. For Lucy was Ben's goddess, 
 and he would fetch and carry for her like 
 any dog. Nay, it dawned upon me as time 
 went on that Ben had fallen in love with 
 Lucy, such signs did he sometimes show of 
 it. And I minded not, for I loved them 
 both, and Ben was a good fellow. But I 
 said naught of it even to my mother, 
 being minded to let matters take their 
 course. 
 
 In the year in which I came of age our 
 harvest was an uncommonly favourable one. 
 We had warm and nourishing rains in spring 
 and abundant sunshine afterwards, and the 
 corn had sprung and shot and ripened and 
 was ready for the scythe by the end of July. 
 And for many a week after that we had
 
 1 68 Of the Passage of Many Years. 
 
 favourable weather, for day after day dawned 
 bright and hot, and our men were in the 
 fields early and late, cutting the grain with 
 scythe and sickle, and binding and setting 
 up the sheaves in long rows across the 
 stubble. We had not, I think, a shower of 
 rain during all that time of ingathering, and 
 we were pleased and thankful that we 
 should have such a favourable harvest. 
 We were a little over a month in reaping 
 and housing our crops, and it was getting 
 near to my birthday in the second week of 
 August, when our last field was ready to be 
 cleared. So it seemed good to my mother 
 that we should hold a merrymaking in honour 
 of my coming to man's estate at the same 
 time as we held our harvest-home. 
 
 " For it will all be one trouble and one 
 preparation. Will," she said, *'and we shall 
 have but one asking of our guests. Yet we 
 must have some extra merrymaking at a 
 time like this, when you are going to enter
 
 Of the Passage of Many Years. 169 
 
 into man's estate and your own land at the 
 same time." 
 
 '' Nay, mother," said I, "what do I want 
 more than to serve you ? " 
 
 For, indeed, I cared not about their legal 
 formalities, which would transfer the broad 
 acres of Dale's Field to me from those who 
 had held them in trust. So long as they 
 were ours and we were living upon them, 
 I cared for nothing more. 
 
 "Nay," said she, *'my son must enter 
 into his father's possessions. Ah, Will, thou 
 art so like thy father now. I think I see 
 him in thee, just as he was two and twenty 
 years ago. Well, but what shall we do at 
 this feast. Will ? " 
 
 '' Nay," said I, " I am no hand at that 
 sort of thing, mother. Let us consult Jack 
 Drumbleforth. He will know what we should 
 do and tell us how to do it." 
 
 And I went out and found Jack in our 
 stackyard, where he was talking with Jacob
 
 170 Of the Passage of Many Years. 
 
 Trusty, and carried him into the great kitchen, 
 where my mother and Lucy were making 
 fruit pies, and there we explained to Jack 
 what it was we wished to do. 
 
 ''Why," said he, ** what you want first 
 of all, Mistress Dale, is to fill your larder 
 with provisions. I warrant that everybody 
 will be hungry and thirsty at a time like 
 that." 
 
 '' If that be all," said my mother, " nobody 
 shall have cause to go away sorrowful." 
 
 " Well, 'tis not all, but 'tis a great deal. 
 What say you, now, if you have a great 
 feast in the big barn ? Or, come, 'tis fine 
 weather, why not have it on the lawn out- 
 side here, and a dance to follow ? You will 
 ask all your friends, Will, and indeed make 
 everybody who likes to come welcome." 
 
 " Any one shall be welcome who comes 
 that day," said my mother. 
 
 " We will have great things," said Jack, 
 rubbing his hands. " See to it that there is
 
 Of the Passage of Many Years. 171 
 
 plenty to eat and drink, Mistress Dale, and 
 I will do the rest. Come thou with me, 
 Will, and we will talk matters over with 
 Jacob Trusty."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 OF MY COMING OF AGE. 
 
 URING the next few days Jack Drum- 
 bleforth was in his element. Naught 
 pleased him so well as to be manager of a 
 feast or entertainment, and he found vast 
 delight in making plans how this or that 
 should be done, and in what order the guests 
 should sit, and so with a multitude of matters 
 which would have caused me a areat deal of 
 
 o 
 
 discomfort. I was well pleased to have Jack 
 close at hand at this time, for he took the 
 weight off my shoulders and left me free, 
 which was what I wanted. 
 
 The final arrangement come to between
 
 Of my Coming of Age. 173 
 
 Jack and my mother, with Lucy thrown in 
 as counsellor, was that we should have two 
 entertainments, the first for the labourers 
 and their wives and children, the second for 
 our friends and acquaintance, and such of 
 our own quality as might drop in upon us. 
 This we thouo^ht to be better than enter- 
 taining all together, as it left us free to pay 
 more attention to our guests than if they had 
 all come upon one day. Again, said Jack, 
 the men would feel more at home amongst 
 themselves, and would cut their jokes and 
 amuse themselves better than in the presence 
 of their masters. So we fixed the enter- 
 tainment for the labourers on the 24th of 
 August, that being my birthday, and for our 
 other friends on the 25th. These things 
 being settled, my mother and Lucy set to 
 work with a right good will, and very soon 
 our larder began to look as if we were 
 threatened with a siege. I was at that time 
 always blessed with a good appetite — indeed.
 
 174 Of my Coming of Age. 
 
 I thank God, I always have been — and it 
 used to whet it to look through the latticed 
 window and see the good things which their 
 nimble fingers had shaped in honour of the 
 coming feast. I used to call Jack Drumble- 
 forth, and bade him peep through the lattices 
 too, at which Jack's mouth would water, for 
 he, too, was endowed with a healthy appetite, 
 so that we were often forced to cut ourselves 
 a great slice of cold pie, and wash it down 
 with a quart of ale out of sympathy. Nor 
 did we ever find that these slight refresh- 
 ments interfered with our meals, though I 
 have heard people say that to eat between 
 breakfast and dinner is to spoil the latter. 
 
 It was no slight trouble to invite the 
 guests to our entertainment, for my mother 
 was anxious that all our acquaintance should 
 come, and as many of them were hard to 
 get at, I had no little riding about to do 
 before I had got them all invited. As for 
 the labourers, we decided that all who had
 
 Of my Coming of Age. 175 
 
 ever done a day's work for us at odd times 
 should come, with their wives and families, 
 and that all our present hands should have 
 the privilege of asking a friend. In this way 
 there was a goodly assemblage gathered 
 together in our great barn when the day 
 came. The barn, thanks to Jack Drumble- 
 forth, had been very gaily decorated with 
 boughs and flowers, and looked quite inviting 
 as one entered it from the stackyard. My 
 mother, indeed, said that she had never seen 
 a prettier sight than it presented when all 
 the company were met, and Parson Drumble- 
 forth rose up to say grace before meat. 
 
 And indeed, a pleasant sight it was, and 
 one that did my heart good to see. For 
 right down the centre of the barn ran a long 
 table, which the carpenter had fixed up that 
 morning, with benches on either side that 
 would seat each over fifty persons. The 
 walls were gaily spread with fresh-plucked 
 boughs, and Lucy had ornamented the table
 
 176 Of my Coming of Age. 
 
 with bunches of flowers, so that there was 
 green, and red, and white, and blue every- 
 where. But if the flowers on the table 
 looked well, what shall I say of all the 
 goodly dishes that almost hid the snow-white 
 cloth from sight ? My mother, like all good 
 housewives, loved hospitality, and nothing 
 would satisfy her but that she must put 
 before her guests all that she could devise 
 or our larder command. I do not think 
 that the daintiest epicure could have found 
 fault with our table that night, for if the fare 
 was homely, it was well cooked and pleasantly 
 served, which is no small matter. As for the 
 beef, it was of Jacob Trusty's own feeding, 
 and so was the bacon, and our people seemed 
 to think that there was additional recom- 
 mendation in that. At any rate, they 
 praised both by sending up their plates time 
 and again, and the carvers had a merry time 
 of it, and so had Jack Drumbleforth, whose 
 office it was to preside at the great barrel
 
 Of my Coming of Age. i ^"j 
 
 of ale that had been placed in the coolest 
 corner of the barn. Everybody, indeed, 
 was at his or her busiest attending to the 
 wants of our guests, and my mother's face 
 beamed with satisfaction as she watched the 
 men and their wives and children enjoying 
 their entertainment. 
 
 Though I had somewhat hung back from 
 it, being always loth to put myself forward, 
 they had forced me, saying it was the proper 
 thing, to take the chair at the head of the 
 long table, and preside over this great feast. 
 So there I sat in my best, feeling as if every 
 eye was fixed upon me, and yet very proud 
 withal of the honour, and Jacob Trusty and 
 Timothy Grass, being our oldest men, sat 
 one on either side of me, while Parson 
 Drumbleforth sat at the foot of the table as 
 vice-chairman. While the supper was being 
 discussed, every man was too busily engaged 
 to think of aught else ; but when all had 
 eaten their fill, and their minds had a chance, 
 
 VOL. I. 12
 
 178 Of my Coming of Age. 
 
 certain of the older men began to look at 
 Jacob Trusty and cough in a significant 
 manner, so that I immediately grew very 
 hot about the ears, knowing right well that 
 they wanted Jacob to propose my health, 
 which would oblige me to make a speech in 
 reply. For a time, however, Jacob Trusty 
 did not choose to take the hint. Perhaps 
 he was already composing his speech in his 
 own mind, or waiting for an idea to come to 
 him. However, the silence and the expec- 
 tant looks continuing, Timothy Grass thought 
 it well to call Jacob's attention to the 
 matter. 
 
 " I think, Jacob," said Timothy Grass, 
 " I think the folks expect a word or two 
 from you, it being a great occasion, and you 
 the oldest man present. So up, Jacob, and 
 let us hear what hast got to say, man." 
 
 I think that Jacob was secretly pleased 
 with his mission, and felt his own impor- 
 tance in the matter, though, like other greater
 
 Of my Coming of Age. 179 
 
 men, he pretended that he rose with diffi- 
 dence, and was unprepared to sustain so 
 difficult a part. Jack Drumbleforth, too, 
 said that he was minded to believe that 
 Jacob had been committing his little speech 
 to memory, and practising it in spare 
 moments ; but I paid no heed to Jack, 
 knowing of old that Jacob was a ready 
 talker, and never fast for words. However, 
 I question whether Jacob ever had so large 
 an audience, or such an attentive one as 
 upon that occasion, for every eye was turned 
 upon him, and the youngest stable-boy ran 
 outside into the fold to drive away the hens 
 which were cackling and clucking without 
 the barn-door. 
 
 " Master William, and friends all," said 
 Jacob, when he had fairly gotten upon his 
 legs, and Parson Drumbleforth had rapped 
 loudly upon the table to command attention 
 — " Master William, and friends all, this is 
 a great occasion, and has been honoured
 
 i8o Of my Coming of Age. 
 
 accordingly. I thank God that I have lived 
 to see it, to see the lad grow into a man. 
 And such a man ! Friends, I have seen 
 three generations of Dales, and they have all 
 been big men ; but this is bigger all ways, 
 length and breadth, wherefore, I say, I am 
 glad, because the old stock is as fine as ever. 
 Now, there's some among you who can re- 
 member Master William being born, and 
 how he grew up to a lad, and you've seen 
 him change from a lad to a man. All that 
 I've seen too, perhaps a bit closer than most 
 of you, because he's been mine from the 
 very first, and he'll not deny it. Who 
 showed him his first bird's-nest but Jacob 
 Trusty ? Who made him his first whip, or 
 gave him his first ride a-horseback, but me ? 
 I ha' done a deal for him, child and boy, and 
 I feel a sort o' right in him. Well, friends 
 all, Master William has come to manhood 
 at last, and here he sits amongst us, master 
 of the good old acres on which you and me
 
 Of my Coming of Age. i8i 
 
 have toiled. Here he sits for all to look at 
 and admire — a fine, big man, like his fathers, 
 six foot four in his stockings, and strong as 
 a bull. And so, friends, having seen him 
 grow up to manhood, I have seen all I 
 wished for, and can die happy. 'Tis but a 
 poor way of saying it, but Master William 
 knows how old Jacob loves him and the old 
 place. So now, friends, young and old, fill 
 your glasses. Fill 'em up, and drink 'em off 
 to the health and long life of William Dale." 
 I can see him now as he stood there, tall, 
 erect, silver-haired, in his clean smock and 
 gay neckerchief, his old weather-beaten, 
 wrinkled face shining with good humour, 
 and a tear in his bright blue eye as he lifted 
 his glass to drink my health. I can feel the 
 clasp of his hard, horny hand as he grasped 
 mine and said, '' God bless thee, William, 
 lad, God bless thee ! " No heartier or truer 
 hand-clasp ever met mine than that, for no 
 man ever loved me more than Jacob Trusty.
 
 1 82 Of my Coming of Age. 
 
 There was quite a storm of shouting and 
 cheering when Jacob had done, and I was 
 outfaced with the warmth of the reception 
 given to me. Then came Jack Drumble- 
 forth to the back of my chair, whispering 
 me to rise and speak while the iron was hot, 
 and then I found myself on my legs, staring 
 at the eager faces before me, and wondering 
 what I was going to say. As to what I did 
 say I cannot tell, though I can remember 
 everything that old Jacob said. But I spoke 
 from my heart, and thanked them for their 
 kindly feeling to me and mine, and promised 
 to be a good master to all who worked, and 
 should work for me, and swore that no man 
 who ever tilled my land should want food or 
 shelter if any evil day fell upon him and his, 
 which vow I have faithfully kept to this 
 present. And after that there were more 
 healths drunk, and Parson Drumbleforth 
 made us a serious speech, after which his son 
 Jack made us a merry one, whereat every-
 
 Of my Coming of Age. 
 
 body laughed heartily. And then the whole 
 company adjourned into the orchard, where 
 the elder people sat about under the trees, 
 and the children played at various sports, 
 devised by Ben Tuckett and my sister Lucy, 
 and everything went as merry as a marriage 
 bell. As for Jack Drumbleforth he was 
 here, there, and everywhere, superintending 
 this, and arranging that, while his father and 
 my mother and I walked about from group 
 to group, saying a word to every one, and 
 bidding all hearty welcome to Dale's Field. 
 When all were tired of further merrymaking 
 there was more ale and refreshment served 
 out, and then I stood at the orchard gate 
 and shook hands with all as they went 
 homeward, receiving their blessings as they 
 passed away. 
 
 ''Odd's fish!" said Jack Drumbleforth, 
 when the last was gone ; " I am as dry as 
 if I had sat before a lime-kiln this five hours. 
 It is hard work this merrymaking, after all,
 
 184 Of my Coming of Age. 
 
 Will. However, what matters a dry throat 
 and tired legs, if other folk are pleased ? 
 Thy guests — I think they all enjoyed their 
 entertainment, Will ? " 
 
 *' That indeed they did, Jack, thanks to 
 you. 
 
 *' Nay, man, no thanks to me. But I am 
 so hungry that I must inside and persuade 
 Lucy to give me a cut of game pie and a 
 pint of ale. 'Tis supper-time already. Come 
 in, Will, and join me." 
 
 But I was in no humour for it just then. 
 My head was all in a whirl with the events 
 of the evening, and I was anxious to take a 
 quiet walk round my meadows in the moon- 
 light to get the heat and noise out of my 
 brain. Already through the lighted window 
 I could see my mother and Lucy and Ben 
 Tuckett and Parson Drumbleforth gathering 
 round the supper-table, well pleased with the 
 day's proceedings. I bade Jack go in and 
 join them.
 
 Of my Coming of Age. 185 
 
 '' I am going for a walk round the meadow, 
 Jack," I said. '' Tell them I will come in 
 presently when my head cools. The noise 
 rings in it yet." 
 
 So I went away through the orchard into 
 the home meadows and wandered, thinking 
 of many things, across the dewy grass in the 
 direction of the woods. The harvest-moon 
 was at its full, and the air was soft and 
 warm. From the road beyond Dale's Field 
 came the sound of a post-chaise driven 
 rapidly onward by the hurrying post-boy. 
 The sound of the wheels died away as I 
 walked across the shining grass ; and then 
 the silence was complete. I lifted my hat 
 and let the cool air sweep over my forehead. 
 I thought of what good old Jacob had said, 
 and of the hearty expressions of good-will 
 which had come to me on every side. These 
 thoughts were serious and weighty, and 
 made me think much of my new responsi- 
 bilities. For I was now Dale of Dale's
 
 1 86 Of my Coming of Age. 
 
 Field, and the broad acres around me were 
 mine. 
 
 I was in no hurry to turn homewards, and 
 half-unconsciously I passed into the wood 
 and went down the path that led to the mill 
 by the river-side. The wheel was turning 
 slowly and the spray darted like silver in the 
 moonlight. I stood in the lane and watched 
 it for a while, and then I turned down to- 
 wards Wentbridge, thinking to reach home 
 by the road. I remembered that I must say 
 good night to Parson Drumbleforth and Jack 
 before they drove homewards, and I hurried 
 my steps, chiding myself that my thoughts 
 had carried me so far afield. But as I 
 reached the foot of the lane and was turning 
 up the hill I came upon two figures in the 
 moonlight, at sight of whom I stopped. A 
 man, on horseback, evidently booted and 
 spurred for a journey, sat bending down to 
 speak to a female whose hand lay on his 
 horses bridle. At sound of my foot the
 
 ^- 
 
 Of my Coming of Age. 187 
 
 man looked up. I could not see his face, 
 but the moon shone full on my own. He 
 raised his hand. 
 
 "Ah!" said he, "an that is not Will 
 Dale, I am dreaming ! Will, is it not you ? 
 It is years since we met, lad, and 'twas a 
 sad time; but, why, it is I, Philip Lisle, 
 Will, and here is Rose — thou wilt remember 
 Rose, though she is no longer a little maiden, 
 but grown almost a woman."
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 OF MY SECOND MEETING WITH ROSE LISLE. 
 
 OW it seemed to me when I heard 
 PhiHp Lisle's voice, that I was walk- 
 ing in a dream from which I should presently 
 wake to find myself elsewhere, so strange 
 was it to meet with him and Rose standing 
 almost where I had left them so many years 
 before. Yet the strange thrill of pleasure 
 which shot through my heart was no dream, 
 and the clasp of Black Phil's hand was warm 
 and real as he bent from his saddle to greet 
 me. 
 
 *' Ha ! " said he, ** I am glad to meet thee, 
 Will Dale. Rose, give Will thy hand.
 
 Second Meeting with Rose Lisle. 189 
 
 How many years ago is it, I wonder, since 
 thou and he rode together down yonder 
 bank on horse Caesar's back ? Ye have both 
 grown somewhat since then, and I have 
 grown older and greyer." 
 
 Rose stretched out her hand to me and 
 looked curiously at me in the moonlight. 
 She must indeed have wondered to find the 
 lad she remembered grown into such a 
 strapping man as I was then. Yet she 
 could not be more surprised than I was 
 when I came to look at her in the full light 
 of the moon. She had grown into a tall 
 and stately maiden of gracious presence and 
 rare beauty, in which I could still trace some 
 resemblance to the child that had bent over 
 me in the wood when I fell down from the 
 storm-cock's nest. Now I had never until 
 then looked much upon maidens, always 
 having my mind intent on other matters, but 
 I felt that having once seen Rose Lisle I 
 could go on watching her dark eyes for ever.
 
 iQO Second Meeting with Rose Lisle. 
 
 So we stood looking at each other in the 
 moonlight, each no doubt wondering by what 
 magic means time had so soon wrought this 
 great change in us. 
 
 ''Well," said Philip Lisle, ''and how goes 
 the world with you, Will ? I have never 
 ridden this way since that sad night many a 
 year ago, and I dare say ye have all well- 
 nigh forgotten me." 
 
 "That, Indeed, we have not, sir. We 
 have thought often of you and of Mistress 
 Rose here, and wondered why you brought 
 her not to see us as you promised." 
 
 " Ah, lad, I have had much to do. My 
 time has been spent far north, Carlisle way, 
 this ten years. For dost know. Will, I had 
 given up my old trade when I found thee 
 kneeling by thy poor father's body that 
 nlo^ht. I have been a Kinor's man since 
 then, nay, I was even then upon the King's 
 business. Rose and I have had a quiet 
 billet in Carlisle this many years."
 
 Second Meeting with Rose Lisle. 191 
 
 I was glad to hear that and said so. 
 
 " But who knows, lad, how much longer it 
 may be quiet ? There is trouble afoot. You 
 have heard of it, Will ? " 
 
 " We have heard such news as travellers 
 bring," I answered. 
 
 '' There is war at hand, Will," said he. 
 " War and no less. You have heard that 
 the King and Commons are at daggers 
 drawn. I fear it will be a great struggle, 
 of which no man can yet see the end." 
 
 Now in our parts we knew very little of 
 the discussion between the King and the 
 Parliament, for news travelled slowly, and 
 we had enough to do to look after our own 
 concerns without troubling about those of 
 our betters. Nevertheless, so unsettled had 
 been the times during the past ten years 
 that people had talked more than usual about 
 the doings of those in high places, and we 
 were thus somewhat familiar with certain 
 great events which had lately happened.
 
 192 Second Meeting with Rose Lisle. 
 
 We had heard, for example, of the levying 
 of ship-money on the port towns which had 
 caused so much ill-feeling throughout the 
 country, and travellers had told us of the 
 resistance offered to it by Mr. John Hampden 
 and others. We had heard, too, of the 
 harsh punishment meted out to Prynne, the 
 lawyer, and to his companions Burton and 
 Bastwick, whose path from the prison to the 
 pillory in Palace Yard the populace had 
 strewn with flowers. Then had come to us 
 news of the disturbances in Scotland, where 
 the King was fighting against numerous mal- 
 contents. Nothing but trouble and sorrow, 
 indeed, seemed to follow the King at that 
 time, and every traveller brought bad news 
 of great affairs. The Earl of Strafford had 
 been executed. The House of Commons 
 had passed its Grand Remonstrance against 
 the King, who, in his turn, had impeached 
 five of its members of high treason, and 
 attempted to seize them in the House itself.
 
 Second Meeting with Rose Lisle. 193 
 
 Things, indeed, were in a sad state, and yet 
 because we were a long way from London 
 it seemed to us that we were out of danger 
 and need do nothing but attend to our own 
 matters and thank God that we had been 
 born to quiet lives. 
 
 "Think you we shall hear aught of it 
 in these parts ? " I asked, thinking these 
 matters over as I stood by Philip Lisle's 
 horse. 
 
 " Nay, lad, I cannot say. But, hark ye. 
 Will, I am on my way to Nottingham, where 
 is to be a meeting of the King's friends this 
 week, and I shall hear news there. And so 
 little faith have I of returning to Carlisle 
 yet awhile that I have brought Rose south- 
 wards with me. We came here but an hour 
 ago, and Rose is going to stay with the old 
 woman at the inn yonder for a couple of 
 days until I return with more certain news." 
 
 ''Nay," said I, ''why should Mistress 
 Rose stay at the inn when Dale's Field is 
 
 VOL. I. 13
 
 194 Second Meeting with Rose Lisle. 
 
 so near ? Mistress Rose, persuade your 
 father to bring you up to Dale's Field. 
 Come, sir, if you are in no great need to 
 ride on, go up and sup with me. My 
 mother and sister will be glad to see you 
 once more, and they will welcome your 
 daughter heartily." 
 
 " Thou speakest kindly, Will," said Philip 
 Lisle. '* What do you say, Rose ? Wouldst 
 rather stay with Mistress Dale than at the 
 inn yonder ? " 
 
 '' I would rather stay with Mistress Dale," 
 said Rose. 
 
 '' Then we will go up with thee, Will. 
 Indeed, man, I should have come to see 
 thee but for fear of waking sad memories. 
 It was but a sad time when I saw thy poor 
 mother last. But now, here is Rose's horse 
 at the inn stable. What shall we do with 
 him?" 
 
 ** I will send a man for him, sir," said I. 
 " Make yourself easy about that."
 
 Second Meeting with Rose Lisle. 195 
 
 So we went up the hill and turned in at 
 the orchard gate of Dale's Field and went 
 into the house. Parson Drumbleforth and 
 Jack had gone homeward, but Ben Tuckett 
 had gotten himself a few days' holiday and 
 was to stay with us over the festivities, and 
 we now found him making himself agreeable 
 to my mother and Lucy. I led Philip and 
 Rose into my mother's parlour and fetched 
 her in to them from the great kitchen, 
 whispering to her who our visitors were and 
 what I wanted. And she, receiving them 
 with hearty hospitality, would not be content 
 until they sat down and ate and drank, and 
 she sent Lucy off to prepare a chamber for 
 Rose, and herself pressed Philip Lisle to 
 remain overnight with us and continue his 
 journey next day. But to that he could not 
 consent. 
 
 " Indeed," said he, '' I ought to be an hour 
 on my journey now, and should have been, 
 only I must needs linger on the bridge
 
 196 Second Meeting with Rose Lisle. 
 
 saying farewell to this maid of mine until 
 Will yonder comes up and presses me to 
 enjoy your hospitality, Mistress Dale. And 
 glad enough I am, I assure you, to leave my 
 Rose in such good hands for a day or two, 
 for 'tis but poor work for young maidens to 
 stay at a wayside inn, though well enough 
 for old campaigners like myself." 
 
 ''We shall take good care of her here, 
 sir," said my mother, stroking Rose's hand 
 with her own as she sat by her. " Please 
 God you will bring us back good news, for 
 we need better than we have had lately." 
 
 But on that point Philip Lisle could say 
 nothing certain. Presently he rose and bid 
 my mother and Lucy farewell, and kissed 
 Rose, and I went out with him and walked 
 by his horse's side to the gate, where he 
 stayed a moment to speak to me. 
 
 " I may return this way, Will," said he, 
 " to-morrow night, or next day. When I 
 come I shall have news. Say naught to
 
 Second Meeting with Rose Lisle. 197 
 
 any one, lad, but I fear that there are great 
 things at hand." 
 
 "You fear war ?" 
 
 "Ay, and such war as is worse than war 
 'twixt two nations. It will be war of brother 
 upon brother, which is a bad and sorry 
 matter. However, let us do our best. Fare 
 thee well, good Will, till I come again." 
 
 And with that he shook Caesar's bridle 
 and rode away into the moonlight, and I 
 stood there until the sound of the horse's 
 hoofs died away, and then went indoors to 
 find Lucy and Ben Tuckett telling Rose 
 about our doings that day and of the grand 
 entertainment we were to have on the 
 morrow. 
 
 Now to see Rose Lisle sitting there in my 
 own house by my mother's side was to me 
 the greatest delight I had ever known. For 
 it seemed somehow as if Rose and I were 
 old and familiar friends, though, indeed, we 
 had only met once in all our lives, and that
 
 198 Second Meeting with Rose Lisle. 
 
 many years before when we were but boy 
 and girl. I could not choose but look at 
 her as she sat there talking to my mother, 
 and I wondered if there were any other 
 maidens in the world who were half so fair 
 as she. I had never forgotten how she 
 looked that afternoon when I tumbled out 
 of the elm-tree, having kept the memory of 
 her fresh in my heart. Then she was a little 
 dark-eyed, gipsy-looking maiden, with a 
 merry laugh and an arch way of looking at 
 you. Now she had become tall and stately 
 and graver of face, but she was more 
 beautiful, and when she smiled I saw the 
 old arch look in her dark eyes. Very often 
 she glanced at me as I sat watching her, 
 and it seemed to me that a man could have 
 no greater happiness than to have such eyes 
 for his light all through life. 
 
 Now, Ben Tuckett was nothing if not soft- 
 hearted, and when my mother and Lucy 
 had taken Rose to her chamber, what must
 
 Second Meeting with Rose Lisle. 199 
 
 he do but pull his chair up to mine and 
 begin to pour out his sorrows into my 
 ear. 
 
 " Will," said he, ** I know you are in love 
 with Mistress Rose yonder, for no one who 
 is not blind could fail to see it." 
 
 ''You can see more than I can, then, 
 Master Ben," I answered. ''Why, man, I 
 have never seen her since she was a child 
 until this night." 
 
 " No matter," said he. "Time is nothing 
 to a lover. You see your sweetheart, and 
 it is all over in an instant. Why, Will, your 
 eyes were upon her every minute of the 
 time ! " 
 
 I made an impatient movement, not being 
 inclined for this sort of conversation. 
 
 " However," continued Ben, " I am not 
 going to talk of that, having other matters 
 which are perhaps more interesting to me. 
 Will, dear lad, hast ever noticed how it is 
 with me ? "
 
 200 Second Meeting with Rose Lisle, 
 
 I knew quite well what he was aiming at, 
 but I was willing to jest with him a little. 
 
 *' Nay," I said, " what is it, Ben ? You are 
 certainly not so fat as you were, but 'tis the 
 hot weather that has pulled you down." 
 
 " You will jest. Will. But there are other 
 matters than hot weather that pull a man 
 down. Though as to being fat, I am not 
 sorry to see myself going thinner. I had 
 rather be a bean-stalk than a butter-tub. 
 But seriously, Will, have you any objection 
 to me for a brother-in-law ? " 
 
 *' Nay, lad," said I, '* not a whit. I love 
 thee, old Ben, just as I love Jack and Tom, 
 which is to say, as if ye all three were 
 brothers of mine already." 
 
 He shook my hand heartily at that, and 
 said he was sure of it. 
 
 '' You see. Will,'* he continued, " I am now 
 out of my apprenticeship, and my old master, 
 having had enow of trade, is minded to give 
 up his business to me, so that I shall be
 
 Second Meeting with Rose Lisle. 201 
 
 my own master in future and doing for myself. 
 And so, lad, having loved Lucy this many 
 a year, I shall now ask her to marry me." 
 
 " I wish you success, Ben," I said. ''You 
 will get a good wife." 
 
 '' No better," said he, " in all the world. 
 Oh, Will, 'tis a rare thing to be a lover. 
 The world seems a new place to a man in 
 love, even if he be such a humdrum 
 individual as L Well, ye will not be long 
 out of love yourself. Will. Mistress Rose's 
 dark eyes will be too powerful for you." 
 
 But I dare not think of aught of that sort 
 yet, for Rose seemed to me like a young 
 goddess whom all might admire and re- 
 verence, but none claim for his own. Yet 
 I thought much of her that night, for the 
 excitement of the day had made me restless, 
 so that I could not sleep, which was a rare 
 thing with me. However, I paid for it next 
 morning, sleeping two hours over my usual 
 time, and waking to find that it was already
 
 202 Second Meeting with Rose Lisle. 
 
 seven o'clock, and the sun high in the 
 heavens. When I went downstairs I found 
 that Lucy and Ben Tuckett had gone into 
 the barn to make some arrangements for the 
 evening's festivities, and that my mother and 
 Rose were in the garden, which my mother 
 was very fond of showing to her visitors. 
 There I joined them, and found Rose more 
 attractive than ever in the fresh morning 
 light. Presently my mother went indoors 
 to hurry on the breakfast preparations, and 
 Rose and I were left together. And of 
 what we talked I know not, save that it was 
 about ourselves, and that I could have 
 stayed there for ever, listening to her voice, 
 and watching the smiles come and go on 
 her sweet face. And then I suddenly re- 
 membered the primrose she had given me 
 years before, and led her to the corner of 
 the garden where I had buried it in my lead 
 box. 
 
 " Do you remember, Mistress Rose," I
 
 Second Meeting with Rose Lisle. 203 
 
 said, *' the primrose you pinned in my coat 
 that afternoon, and the guinea your father 
 gave me when he carried you away ? Let 
 us see if they are still where I put them." 
 
 I got a spade, and began to turn up the 
 soil, which had never been disturbed since 
 the day I buried the lead box there. Pre- 
 sently I turned it up to the light, and placed 
 it in her hands, and bade her open it, while 
 I looked over her shoulder, to see how the 
 treasures had fared. 
 
 '*Oh!" she cried; "see, the primrose is 
 still unfaded, and here is the guinea. And 
 you have kept them all these years ! But 
 was it not a strange place to keep them, 
 where you could never see them ? " 
 
 " Why," I said, '' it was the only place I 
 could call my own. Let me put them back, 
 and do you put another flower in the lead 
 box, and we will dig them up again at some 
 future time, and see how they fare." 
 
 "What shall I put in?" she said.
 
 204 Second Meeting with Rose Lisle. 
 
 '' There are nothing but roses now, I think. 
 This red rose ? " and she put it w^th the 
 primrose, and shut the box, and gave it back 
 to me with a merry laugh, and watched me 
 carefully bury it again. Then, as we were 
 going back to the house, she said, '' I, too, 
 kept some of the primroses gathered that 
 afternoon, and they are pressed between 
 the leaves of an old book at home. Some 
 day, perhaps, I shall show them to you." 
 
 That made me very happy, for I saw that 
 Rose had not forgotten the day when she 
 first met me in the woods above the old 
 mill, but had thought sometimes of it and 
 of me.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 OF the' first tidings of war. 
 
 HAT day was an eventful one to us at 
 Dale's Field in more than one way. 
 As soon as breakfast was over we had to 
 commence our preparations for the evening's 
 festivities, which were to be on a larger 
 scale than those of the previous day. 
 Everybody was busily engaged, and there 
 seemed some difficulty as to what should be 
 done with Rose, until she offered to help my 
 mother. 
 
 *' For I know something about these 
 matters, Mrs. Dale," said she, " and will help 
 you if I may, and you will command me. I 
 
 I
 
 2o6 Of the First Tidings of War. 
 
 dare say you will find me of some use where 
 all are so busy." 
 
 And therewith my mother furnished her 
 with a large apron and set her to dust the 
 best china, which was a great honour, as I 
 presently told her, no one but my mother 
 ever daring so much as to touch those price- 
 less cups and platters. 
 
 *' Then indeed, I am highly honoured," 
 she said, while I stood there and watched 
 her graceful fingers move about the things. 
 '* But you. Master William, is there nothing 
 that you can do ? For you seem to be the 
 only one who is doing nothing." 
 
 Now, I ought to have been riding round 
 the fields at that moment, but I felt com- 
 pelled to stay where I was — why, I know 
 not. 
 
 " There is nothing that I can do," I said. 
 *' I am so awkward and clumsy that they 
 trust nothing to me. If you like I will help 
 you to wipe these dishes, Mistress Rose."
 
 Of the First Tidings of War. 207 
 
 " Nay," she said, '' if you are so awkward 
 as all that, I fear the poor dishes would come 
 to the ground. But why do you not help 
 your sister and Master Tuckett to decorate 
 the barn ? I saw them go across the fold 
 a few minutes ago with a basket of flowers." 
 
 " They will be as well pleased at my 
 absence as with my company," I said, " or 
 better." 
 
 " And why .^" 
 
 " Because two's company and three's none, 
 and Ben and Lucy are very fond of each 
 other's company." 
 
 " But surely there must be something 
 you can be doing," she said. '' A man 
 should never be idle." 
 
 " I am well enough here watching you," I 
 answered. 
 
 "If you watch me, I shall be sure to let 
 the china fall, and then your mother will be 
 sorry she entrusted it to my hands. Now, 
 see, there is a young gentleman riding
 
 2o8 Of the First Tidings of War. 
 
 into the yard ; you must go out and see 
 
 him." 
 
 ' ** Nay," said I, glancing out of the window, 
 
 '' 'tis only Jack Drumbleforth, our parson s 
 
 son. He will find his way in here readily 
 
 enough without my meeting him." 
 
 And presently indeed we saw Jack striding 
 across the fold in the direction of the 
 kitchen-door, which he threw open a minute 
 later with a cheery salutation. I can yet see 
 his start of surprise and the astonished look 
 on his face when he found me leaning 
 against the wall talking to a beautiful young 
 lady whom he had never seen before. 
 
 " Come in, Jack," said I. '' Let me pre- 
 sent thee to an old friend of mine, Mistress 
 Rose Lisle. Mistress Rose, this gentleman 
 is my old schoolmate, Master John Drumble- 
 forth." 
 
 Then I stood smiling upon them while 
 Jack made his best bow and Rose curtsied 
 to him in the finest fashion.
 
 Of the First Tidings of War. 209 
 
 " Mistress Rose," said Jack, still astonished 
 of face, *' I am your most humble servant. 
 What Will here says of me is indeed true, 
 for we were lads together. But he did 
 never tell me of his old friend Mistress Rose 
 Lisle." 
 
 " Master Dale is jesting with you, sir," 
 said Rose. "He hath nothing better to do 
 this fine morning, when we are all so busy." 
 
 " Nay," said I, " 'tis true enough. Did I 
 never tell thee. Jack, of how I fell from the 
 elm in Went Vale yonder and was ministered 
 to by an angel ? " 
 
 " But that is many years ago," said Rose, 
 ''and the angel was a little girl in a red 
 hood." 
 
 " But nevertheless it was Mistress Rose 
 Lisle. So that I was right in saying ' an old 
 friend,' eh. Jack ? " 
 
 " I am not sorry thou didst fall out of the 
 elm tree. Will," said Jack, "if it made Mis- 
 tress Rose friend of thine. I have had 
 
 VOL. I. 14
 
 2IO Of the First Tidings of War. 
 
 many a tumble myself, but I never fell in 
 Fortune's way. However, there may be a 
 chance now. Will, what dost say if I go to 
 the wars ? '* 
 
 " To the wars ? Man, thou art to be a 
 parson." 
 
 "Time enough for that when we have 
 done with fighting. For fighting there will 
 be ere long, so sure as my name is Jack 
 Drumbleforth." 
 
 ** Have you heard some fresh news, sir ? " 
 asked Rose. 
 
 " Nay, mistress, nothing very fresh, save 
 that it is said the King and Commons have 
 come to an open breach at last, and that 
 blood will certainly be shed. Hah ! " said 
 Jack, taking down and looking lovingly at 
 my ancient broadsword, " I am afraid there 
 is more of the swashbuckler about me than 
 the parson. I did ever love a fight. Will, as 
 you know. Well, there will be heads 
 broken."
 
 Of the First Tidings of War. 211 
 
 '* But which side wilt thou fight for, Jack?" 
 
 But at that he shook his head. It was a 
 question which puzzled many men at that 
 time. 
 
 " Nay, lad, that I cannot answer yet 
 awhile. I am for the monarchy, of course, 
 for there is warrant for that. Yet I would 
 hear something of the other side of the ques- 
 tion before I take sword in hand. Mark 
 thee, Will, there will be many a man in 
 England take sides in this quarrel who knows 
 nothing of what he is fighting for. It will 
 be enough for such that they fight." 
 
 Which saying was true enough as events 
 proved. But we had no time to discuss it 
 then, for my mother entered the kitchen, and 
 bade us both begone for idlers, at which 
 Rose laughed, and we perforce departed into 
 the fold. 
 
 " Zounds, Will ! " said Jack, when we were 
 clear of the house, " it is not like thee to 
 have kept the fame of Mistress Rose Lisle
 
 212 Of the First Tidings of War. 
 
 to thyself. Ah ! thou hast a keen eye for 
 beauty, my old friend Will. Well, I wish 
 thee good luck. I will dance at thy wed- 
 ding, an I be not killed first." 
 
 " Why, man," said I, ** have I not told 
 thee I never saw Mistress Rose yonder but 
 once, when she was a little maid that high, 
 and I a great boy with a thick head ? It is 
 soon to talk of weddings." 
 
 " May be," said he, " but if thou art not 
 falling in love with her, call me a Dutchman. 
 I know the signs, Will. What ! I was in 
 love myself at Oxford with Gillian, the pastry- 
 cook's daughter. Poor Gillian — the lightest 
 foot, I think, that ever trod a measure, and 
 could make you the sweetest tarts I ever set 
 tooth in ! Well, I am like to be happy with 
 ye here at Dale's Field, for there are Ben 
 and Lucy looking unutterable things at each 
 other in the barn, and thou wilt be sighing 
 like a furnace ere long. As for me, I shall 
 never marry, Will. An I survive the wars I
 
 Of the First Tidings of War. 213 
 
 will take orders and live in some sweet spot 
 where I can compose madrigals and sonnets 
 to Phyllis. I flatter me that I have as pretty 
 a taste in that line as man need have." 
 
 ** Thou seemest resolved that there shall 
 be some fighting, Jack." 
 
 **Why, yes. For, dost thou not see, the 
 land is now in such a state that heads must 
 be broken ere ever things will heal ? 'Tis 
 a sad business, but war there must be." 
 
 Then we went to our respective duties, 
 Jack to superintend certain arrangements 
 which he had taken upon himself, and I to 
 ride round the farm on my horse, in which 
 usual task I spent two hours, so that the 
 morning was far advanced when I returned 
 to the house. Ben and Lucy were still 
 busied in the barn, in which we were to 
 dance that evening, and very fine they had 
 made it look when I put my head in at the 
 door to peep at them. The walls were 
 ornamented with green stuff; there were
 
 214 Of the First Tidings of War. 
 
 seats all round for the old folks, and such 
 as did not dance ; and there was a raised 
 platform at one end for the fiddlers to sit on. 
 Calling my approval to Ben and Lucy, I 
 went round the buildings to the garden, 
 where I expected to find Jack. There, in- 
 deed, I did find him, leaning against the 
 wall with his coat off and his hat pushed 
 back from his forehead, his kerchief in one 
 hand, and a tankard of ale in the other. 
 And there in front of him, laughing at some 
 joke of his, stood Rose, bearing a trencher, 
 on which was a jug from which she had 
 just filled Jack's tankard. When she saw 
 me she set down the trencher, and ran away 
 to the kitchen, returning presently with 
 another tankard, which she filled and offered 
 to me as I came up to them. 
 
 ** Mistress Rose," I said, '* I know not why 
 it is, but surely our ale never tasted half so 
 fine as this." 
 
 *'Well said, Will," said Jack. ^'That,
 
 Of the First Tidings of War. 215 
 
 indeed, is just what I thought. For mark 
 you, I have been toiling so hard that my 
 mouth was as dry as. a bone, and I could 
 not forbear imploring Mistress Rose to bring 
 me a tankard of ale. And indeed 'tis nectar, 
 and Mistress Rose is Hebe, and we are 
 gods." 
 
 But Rose laughed, and ran away, and Jack 
 and I were left alone. 
 
 " Jack, Jack ! " I said. " I fear me thou 
 hast a soft heart. What, dost not know the 
 way to our cellar thyself long before this ? " 
 
 " There is a deal in service, lad. I cannot 
 away with your ugly waiter who sets down 
 your pot with a scowl on his ill-favoured 
 countenance. But a Hebe with eyes like 
 violets, and a shape like Spring — why, the 
 liquor seems to leap divine in the pewter. 
 'Tis a beautiful maiden, though, Will, and a 
 good, and will make thee such a wife as a 
 man should pray for. Ah me ! it must be 
 a fine thing to be wedded to a good woman."
 
 2i6 Of the First Tidings of War. 
 
 *' Thou speakest as if thou wert married to 
 some old shrew," said I. 
 
 " Why, in one sense, Will, I am, for I am 
 married to myself, and what worse partner 
 can a man have ? I am neither fish, flesh, 
 nor good red herring. However, I may be 
 good enough to go to the wars and handle a 
 pike." 
 
 So the day wore on, and at last all my 
 preparations were made, and it was time for 
 our guests to arrive. We were all arrayed 
 in our finest clothes, and looked, I think, 
 very grand, especially Ben Tuckett, who 
 had brought with him a new lace coat which 
 was very fine indeed, and much admired by 
 everybody. There had been much consulta- 
 tion during the day between Lucy and Rose, 
 for the latter had brought but a simple gown 
 and riding habit with her upon her travels, 
 and she was puzzled how to honour my 
 coming of age in a fitting manner. How- 
 ever, she and Lucy were much of a size, and
 
 Of the First Tidings of War. 217 
 
 at last Rose appeared in a white gown that 
 Lucy had lent her, and looked so beautiful 
 in it that Jack and Ben and myself were 
 struck dumb with admiration, and swore 
 amongst ourselves that we had never seen 
 so fair a maiden, though Ben immediately 
 afterwards recanted, and said that he must 
 on consideration give the palm to Lucy. 
 
 My mother had insisted on asking all our 
 friends and acquaintance to honour us with 
 their presence, and by six o'clock in the 
 evening there was quite a large assemblage 
 on our lawn, and our stables were full of 
 horses ridden by their owners from a dis- 
 tance. When we were all assembled, we 
 adjourned to the great kitchen, where we 
 were able to accommodate nearly one hun- 
 dred guests, and there we all sat down to 
 supper, I again sitting at the head of the 
 table, with Parson Drumbleforth on my right, 
 and Lawyer Hook on my left. And after 
 dinner there were speeches made, and my
 
 2i8 Of the First Tidings of War. 
 
 health was drunk, and I was loudly con- 
 gratulated. But I thought somehow that 
 Jack had the best time of it after all, for he 
 sat next to Rose, and talked to her con- 
 stantly. However, as I found out after- 
 wards, the honest fellow was sounding my 
 praises in her ears all the time, which was 
 just like him. After supper was well over, 
 we walked about on the lawn and in the 
 orchard for a time, while Jack Drumbleforth 
 and Ben Tuckett saw to the lighting of the 
 lamps and candles in the barn. This done, 
 we all went thither, and the fiddler, being 
 supplied with a jug of ale, was bidden to 
 ply his elbow merrily for a country dance. 
 Then arose within me considerable wonder 
 as to which of my guests I should ask to 
 dance with me. This question Lucy settled 
 to my satisfaction by saying that as Rose 
 was the greatest stranger I should lead off 
 the dance with her. So then I had the 
 great happiness of leading Rose out into the
 
 Of the First Tidings of War. 219 
 
 middle of the floor, and Ben Tuckett led out 
 Lucy, and the others followed In due course, 
 and the fiddler scraped away with his bow, 
 and we all felt as happy as children. But 
 just as we were beginning the first steps, and 
 Rose was laughingly showing me what to do 
 next, for I was no great hand at it, I heard 
 the sound of a horse's feet on the stones in 
 the yard. And then I saw Philip Lisle 
 coming in behind the people, dusty, travel- 
 stained, and tired. Rose and I made for 
 him through the throng. The people gave 
 over dancing, and the fiddler stopped with 
 his bow in mid-air. 
 
 *' What news ? " I cried, for I saw that he 
 had news. The people crowded round him 
 to hear his answer. He stayed on the 
 threshold, and raised his hat. 
 
 " God save the King ! " he cried. ** His 
 Majesty raised his flag at Nottingham 
 against his enemies, the day before yester- 
 day. God save the King ! "
 
 2 20 Of the First Tidings of War. 
 
 Now, there were some that echoed PhiHp 
 Lisle's cry heartily. But there were others 
 who said nothing and looked very grave, 
 while Parson Drumbleforth shook his head 
 sadly, saying that the kingdom which is 
 divided against itself shall not stand. And 
 thus the red shadow of war suddenly loomed 
 over all our merrymaking.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 OF PHILIP LISLE S CALL TO ARMS. 
 
 THINK there was little more dancing 
 amongst us upon that evening, for no 
 one seemed to have much heart left for 
 merrymaking after hearing Philip Lisle's 
 news. Certainly the country had not been 
 so peaceful during the past few years as to 
 make us feel that we were suddenly thrown 
 out of a state of security into a condition of 
 danger. No man, I suppose, had thought 
 that the difference 'twixt King and Commons 
 could have other ending than this. For so 
 many years had the struggle gone on and 
 always with so much increase of bitterness
 
 222 Of Philip Lisle's Call to Arms. 
 
 on either side that nothing but the shedding 
 of blood could bring peace to us again. And 
 yet civil war is a terrible and a fearful thing, 
 for it is, as I think, a setting of brother 
 against brother and father against son. Now, 
 I think naught of one nation going to war 
 with another, for that seems natural and is 
 only to be looked for, seeing that human 
 nature is what it is. Indeed, to fight with 
 Frenchmen or Spaniards seems to be one of 
 the chief duties of a true Englishman who 
 loves his country. But for Englishmen to 
 fight with Englishmen, that, indeed, is vastly 
 out of place and ought never to be. 
 
 The assembly broke up into knots and 
 fell to discussing the situation. Parson 
 Drumbleforth, whose face had grown very 
 anxious when he heard the news, drew near 
 to Philip Lisle and began to question him. 
 A group of others stood round us, hearken- 
 ing to what was said. 
 
 *' The King, you say, sir, hath raised his
 
 Of Philip Lisle's Call to Arms. 223 
 
 standard at Nottingham?" said Parson 
 Drumbleforth. 
 
 *' He hath, your Reverence. On the 22nd 
 of August he raised it, and is now gather- 
 ing round him all that are loyal to His 
 Majesty." 
 
 *' Hath the King much following, sir ?" 
 
 "He hath the majority of the Lords, sir, 
 and as for the Commons there are large 
 numbers of the members of that House who 
 will serve His Majesty." 
 
 " But the country, sir," said Parson 
 Drumbleforth, *' how will the country go ? " 
 
 "If the people do their duty, sir, will they 
 not serve their King to whom they owe 
 allegiance ? " 
 
 Parson Drumbleforth shook his head at 
 that and said that these were sad days. 
 
 '* For mark you. Master Lisle," continued 
 he, "I am a Royalist to my last breath and 
 to the last throb of my heart, for so I am 
 commanded by my conscience and my reason.
 
 2 24 Of Philip Lisle's Call to Arms. 
 
 And yet I do think that in this matter His 
 Majesty hath not been well advised and will 
 ultimately suffer. I agree not with them 
 who clamour for the right of the people. I 
 had rather be ruled by a tyrant than by 
 Demos, for your tyrant is but one man, but 
 Demos is a beast of many heads and dis- 
 positions. Nevertheless, it had been well, I 
 think, to humour the popular mind somewhat 
 in this case. For I fear me, Master Lisle, 
 that if it come to a case of endurance 'twixt 
 the throne and the people, the throne will 
 come badly out of it." 
 
 But Philip Lisle shook his head at that 
 and seemed to regard Parson Drumbleforth 
 as a faint-hearted Royalist at the best. 
 
 ** We have taken to the sword/' said Philip 
 Lisle, " and by the sword we shall put down 
 this bad feeling towards the monarchy. 
 What, are those who are ruled to say how 
 they shall be ruled ? It used to be said 
 that power came from God, but according
 
 Of Philip Lisle's Call to Arms. 225 
 
 to these new teachers it cometh from the 
 people." 
 
 ''Alas!" said Parson Drumbleforth, ''there 
 are many false teachers abroad, certainly. 
 But, oh, sirs, it is a terrible matter, this civil 
 war, and I would that we could see the end 
 of it. For mind you, Master Lisle, these 
 disaffected men will fight, ay, to the death. 
 I hear they are smarting grievously under a 
 sense of wrong, and such men will give and 
 take many a hard blow ere the affair be 
 settled." 
 
 " The King hath his army," said Philip 
 Lisle. 
 
 " If the King hath the people against him, 
 his army will stand him in little stead, sir," 
 said an old gentleman, Master Geoffrey 
 Oldthwaite, who had listened attentively to 
 the conversation between Philip Lisle and 
 the vicar. "Whether His Majesty know it 
 or not, or whether or not they that advise 
 him know it, there is a strong feeling against 
 
 VOL. I. 15
 
 2 26 Of Philip Lisle's Call to Arms. 
 
 the King all through the land. For mark 
 you, sir — I speak freely — we Englishmen, as 
 you should know, being one yourself, do like 
 that our liberties should be preserved and 
 honoured, we being a free people and of a 
 proud nature. Now, there are many who do 
 not consider that the King hath conserved 
 the liberties of the people. See what 
 vexatious matters have come upon us in 
 this reign. Hath His Majesty ever been at 
 one with the members whom we send to 
 represent us in Parliament ? Have there 
 not been disputes concerning tonnage and 
 poundage, ship-money, and impropriations ? 
 We have also heard, sir, of the Star Chamber 
 and of the sentences upon Masters Prynne 
 and Bastwick, and now the King hath 
 endeavoured to seize five representatives of 
 the people sitting in their House. These 
 matters, sir, do not find acceptance with 
 Englishmen. I speak freely, being an 
 Englishman."
 
 Of Philip Lisle s Call to Arms. 227 
 
 " It is true," sighed Parson Drumbleforth ; 
 "it is true there have been grievances. 
 Whenever was it not so ? As for me, 
 though I am a RoyaHst, I can never forget 
 that Saul was anything but a blessing to his 
 people. What we want, sirs, is mutual long- 
 suffering. If the King hath his rights, so 
 have the people theirs. If he hath his duties, 
 so have they their duties." 
 
 " His Majesty," said Philip Lisle, ''desires 
 not to punish any that are well disposed, but 
 only them that are traitorous. If any man 
 have grievance against the State, let him 
 make his grievance known." 
 
 *' What, to the Star Chamber ? " said some 
 one in the rear of the group. " Would he 
 find justice there, think you ?" 
 
 ''At any rate," cried Philip, "'tis poor 
 work to fight against your lawful sovereign. 
 Sir, you are a clerk and a learned man ; tell 
 us, now, is there Scriptural warrant for this 
 rising against His Majesty ? I am no saint
 
 2 28 Of Philip Lisle's Call to Arms. 
 
 nor much of a scholar, but I have read the 
 Scriptures somewhat, and never did I find 
 aught commanding men to rise up in rebelHon 
 against the lawful power." 
 
 '' It is true," answered Parson Drumble- 
 forth. *' We are commanded to honour the 
 King in the same precept which bids us to 
 fear God. Moreover, we are bound as 
 faithful servants to yield ourselves to the 
 powers set over us, for all power is of God, 
 Who hath a fatherly care over His children 
 and would not allow evil to be done, thougfh 
 His ways do oft seem mysterious and in- 
 scrutable. Nay, truly, it is not in Holy 
 Writ that any man finds warrant to rise up 
 against authority.'* 
 
 Now, Master Oldthwaite shook his head 
 at this, not liking the turn of the con- 
 versation, for he was a Parliamentarian and 
 supported that cause to his utmost ; but 
 Philip Lisle seized upon the parson's state- 
 ment eagerly, and began to appeal to us
 
 Of Philip Lisle's Call to Arms. 229 
 
 who stood round him to help in the King's 
 cause. 
 
 ''Gentlemen," said he, *'ye hear what 
 your vicar saith as to this matter. The 
 King hath Scripture and reason on his side. 
 Who can stand against these two ? Gentle- 
 men, in this contest no man can remain 
 undecided. Ye must choose one side or 
 the other. It must be either King or 
 Parliament. As for me, I am for the King 
 — God preserve him ! — and whether the 
 fight go well or ill I will stand by that until 
 the end come. But you, sirs, will you not 
 join me in serving under His Majesty's 
 banner ? There are here young and lusty 
 men of able bodies who might strike many 
 a hearty blow for a good cause. Come, 
 gentlemen, let me ride back to Nottingham 
 with a goodly troop of horse behind me. 
 Will Dale, what sayest thou ? John 
 Drumbleforth, thou art no traitor ? Ben 
 Tuckett, there is good stuff in thee. Francis
 
 230 Of Philip Lisle's Call to Arms. 
 
 Wood, thy great arms and broad shoulders 
 should give ^many a swinging blow. Come, 
 boys, say you will go forth like the men you 
 are, to rally round your sovereign s standard 
 with the flower of England, and help him 
 to subdue all his enemies. What ! must I 
 appeal In vain to you, lads of Yorkshire ? 
 In old times men were not slow in coming 
 forward to fight for their king, and the 
 Yorkshire lads were always in front." 
 
 ''Yorkshire favours not the King in this 
 matter, sir," said old Master Oldthwaite. 
 
 *' Faith, sir, you are wrong, then," said 
 Jack Drumbleforth, "at least so far as one 
 Yorkshire man is concerned. For here, 
 Master Lisle, am I. I will go and fight for 
 the King, an His Majesty will have me. 
 I am not so tall, but I am exceeding broad, 
 and ye may rest assured that wherever I 
 am there will be broken heads. So God 
 save the King ! " 
 
 ** Oh, John, John ! " said the vicar. " And
 
 Of Philip Lisle's Call to Arms. 231 
 
 thou wert meant for the Church, for a man 
 of peace." 
 
 ''Time enow for that, father, when peace 
 comes. I shall make no worse soldier of 
 the Church for first splitting a few skulls. 
 Besides, I am a man of muscle, and of thew 
 and sinew. Yes, I will go with you to the 
 wars, Master Lisle, whether any others go 
 or not." 
 
 "And I will go with you," said Francis 
 Wood. 
 
 But beyond these two no one spoke. 
 There were many there who were true 
 to the throne, but they had their farms 
 to think of, and their families, and their 
 chief desire was that the tide of war might 
 sweep aside and leave them and theirs 
 untouched. So Philip Lisle at that time 
 got small response to his pleading on the 
 King s behalf. 
 
 There was little more merrymaking that 
 night, and ere long the guests had gone
 
 232 Of Philip Lisle's Call to Arms. 
 
 away along the quiet lanes. Philip Lisle, 
 Jack, Ben, and I were left talking in the 
 garden. The women were gossiping to- 
 gether in the house. As for Parson 
 Drumbleforth, he had ridden home to his 
 vicarage in his churchwarden's cart. 
 
 '"Will," said Philip Lisle, as we strolled 
 about the moonlit garden — "Will, you must 
 join us. Here is Jack, and young Francis 
 Wood will go. You must make a third ; 
 and you, Ben, will you not make a fourth ? " 
 
 Now, when I had heard Philip Lisle's 
 appeal, my heart had felt a great desire to 
 go to the wars, and I was tempted to say 
 so at the time. But there were so many 
 hindrances in the way that I could not see 
 my way to saying that I would follow the 
 Kings standard. For if I w^ent to fight, 
 who would look after the farm and defend 
 the women if such times arose as would 
 lead to their danger ? An I had been all 
 alone in those days, I would have gone
 
 Of Philip Lisle's Call to Arms. 233 
 
 willingly enough, and would have served 
 the King to my last breath. As for the 
 rights and wrongs of the matter I knew 
 little, nay, I say frankly enough that I was 
 with the King all through that terrible time 
 because he was the King, for I am a 
 Royalist to the backbone. Wrongs there 
 doubtless were, and maybe somewhat in 
 the nature of oppression, but for all that he 
 was the King, and we had sworn allegiance 
 to him. Therefore, I say, I would cheer- 
 fully have followed Philip Lisle to fight 
 under the royal standard, but for the care 
 of my mother and sister and the farm. 
 What were the women to do without me 
 to guard them ; what would become of my 
 farm and stock if I left them to the care of 
 others ? 
 
 ** I would go willingly enough if it were 
 not for that," said I, explaining my reasons 
 to Philip Lisle. " But it would seem that 
 duty calls me to abide here presently.'
 
 2 34 Of Philip Lisle's Call to Arms. 
 
 " Tut, lad," said he, " duty calls thee to 
 the King's side. The women are safe enow 
 here, and as for the farm and stock, why, 
 thy mother and Jacob Trusty will take good 
 care of it, I warrant. Come, go with me. 
 Will." 
 
 ** Let me think the matter over," I said. 
 " I am much inclined to go with you. 
 Think you the war will come this way ? " 
 
 ** Nay," he said, ''who can say? I think 
 it will not be of long endurance. The King 
 is getting him a strong army together, and 
 should read these fellows such a lesson 
 that they will quickly lay down their arms 
 and submit themselves to His Majesty's 
 clemency." 
 
 '* Who leads the Parliamentary forces, 
 sir ? " asked Jack. 
 
 " That is not yet known, lad, but it is said 
 the Earl of Essex will take command. 'Tis 
 a sober and steady head, but he hath not 
 the military genius. He will be prudent
 
 Of Philip Lisle's Call to Arms. 235 
 
 and wary, and will fight you a battle 
 admirably on paper, but he will fail in those 
 flashes of genius which show the great 
 soldier." 
 
 **And the King, sir, who hath he to 
 advise him ? " 
 
 "Why, lad, he hath Falkland, and he 
 hath Prince Rupert, and he hath Hyde — 
 three counsellors from whom he will gain a 
 diversity of opinions. It is on Rupert that 
 I rely. There, lads, is a soldier for you ! 
 Full of dash and fire he is, and will lead a 
 cavalry charge against whatever obstacle 
 comes in his way. Hah ! we shall have 
 some fine times of it when Rupert falls upon 
 these psalm-singing rascals." 
 
 " Master Oldthwaite would say, sir, that 
 these same psalm-singing rascals will show 
 fight," said Jack Drumbleforth. 
 
 *' Master Oldthwaite, Jack, is a seditious 
 old knave, or, if that term be too strong, he 
 is not well disposed towards His Majesty.
 
 236 Of Philip Lisle's Call to Arms. 
 
 I fear he will do some harm about this 
 district, that same Master Oldthwaite." 
 
 '' He is not alone," said Ben Tuckett, ''In 
 his advocacy of the ParHamentary cause. 
 For whether you know it or not, Master 
 Lisle, this part of the land is not for His 
 Majesty." 
 
 " I know it well enough, Ben, and there 
 Is therefore the greater need of care In what 
 those say who are for the King. No, lads, 
 it is the north and west of the land that 
 favours the King; the south and the east 
 are against His Majesty, led away as they 
 are by their agitating leaders." 
 
 " I have heard say," continued Ben, " that 
 there will be trouble in our town, for which- 
 ever party holds the Castle, the other will 
 not rest until it hath dislodged It. Alas ! 'tis 
 a sad business, and one that fills me with 
 much concern." 
 
 ** Come with me to the wars then, Ben," 
 said Jack Drumbleforth. '' I warrant that
 
 Of Philip Lisle's Call to Arms. 237 
 
 arm of thine can strike a blow for the King 
 to some purpose." 
 
 '* I am not without some strength," said 
 Ben, shaking his fist, '' but I shall not use 
 it in this quarrel, Jack, unless it be to defend 
 myself or my own. What, because Tom 
 and Bill choose to fall out and fight, is that 
 any reason why I should get my head broken 
 between them ? " 
 
 '' 'Tis a false parallel, sir," said Philip 
 Lisle. 
 
 ** With submission, sir, 'tis a very true 
 one. Did I do aught to encourage King 
 and Parliament in going to war with each 
 other ? To tell the truth I care no jot for 
 either, being a free man and a burgess. Let 
 them that made the quarrel settle the quarrel. 
 God grant that in the settling they ruin not 
 the land ! " 
 
 This method of dealing with the matter 
 did not seem to find much favour with Philip 
 Lisle, who only regarded the subject from
 
 238 Of Philip Lisle's Call to Arms. 
 
 one point of view, and liked not that any 
 one should deal with it from any other. 
 
 *' I am sorry, lad," said he, ** that thou 
 hast so little loyalty to thy sovereign. Young 
 men, however, are not what they were, for 
 at one time a lusty fellow like thee would 
 have seized his pike and struck a blow for 
 Merry England." 
 
 '' An it come to striking a blow for 
 Merry England, sir," said Ben, " I am with 
 you. Let Spaniard or Turk so much as set 
 foot within the land, and I will show you 
 whether or no I will fight. Yea, then I 
 would fight till I could fight no more. But 
 is this quarrel for England ? " 
 
 "Yea," said Philip Lisle, ''for England 
 and the liberties of the English people." 
 
 In that he expressed the sentiments of 
 the Royalists. It was the watchword of the 
 cause, even as the King said years later on 
 the fatal scaffold at Whitehall. 
 
 "At any rate," said Jack Drumbleforth,
 
 Of Philip Lisle's Call to Arms. 239 
 
 " I am going, and woe be to the seditious 
 knave that comes in my way. Who knows ? 
 I may carve my way to fortune. Sir John 
 Drumbleforth would sound well, or even 
 Baron Drumbleforth. Thou seest, Ben, 
 what a chance thou art missing. Baron 
 Tuckett, or Sir Benjamin. Well, God send 
 us all safe out of it ! "
 
 ■5-*^^^^^^^^^^^^^^? - -=^ -^^ .„M 
 
 ^ 
 
 ■'-<gp*'T^,«*^3l 
 
 
 IS^^tt^ 
 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 OF THE DISTURBANCE IN PONTEFRACT 
 MARKET-PLACE. 
 
 T can hardly be said that PhlHp LIsle's 
 appeal to those gathered together in 
 our barn had met with much success, for of 
 all the men he spoke to, only two had 
 promised to go with him, and both these 
 were men who, however brave, were some- 
 what of weathercocks and apt to turn to 
 whatever their humour tempted them at 
 chance times. Not that I would say aught 
 against my dear friend. Jack Drumbleforth, 
 who was as brave and valiant as any man 
 could be. But he had a somewhat flyaway
 
 PONTEFRACT MaRKET-PLACE. 24 1 
 
 disposition, this Jack, and was apt to take 
 sides in a quarrel without knowing much of 
 the matter in dispute. As for Frank Wood, 
 he had done httle all his life but make love 
 to the girls and crack jokes with whosoever 
 would talk with him, and he was fond of 
 excitement and adventure. Both, then, 
 went to the war more from a liking of 
 change than from inclination, and neither 
 needed much converting to the King's side. 
 And yet there were no braver soldiers fought 
 in that quarrel than these two, who showed 
 their natural gallantry many a time and 
 endured privation and care for the sake of 
 the cause they had espoused. 
 
 " I had hoped to take a goodly company 
 from here. Will," said Philip Lisle, " and 
 yet we have got but two volunteers so far. 
 What do you think — shall I meet with any 
 success in this neighbourhood ? " 
 
 Now, I could not rightly answer him as 
 to that, for I knew little of the feeling round 
 
 VOL. I. 16
 
 242 PONTEFRACT MaRKET-PLACE. 
 
 about us, having rarely spoken to my 
 acquaintance of matters concerning politics, 
 which In my opinion were the natural con- 
 cern of wise men, and not of humble folk 
 like myself. But it occurred to me that 
 Philip Lisle might easily satisfy himself on 
 the subject by going with me to the market 
 at Pontefract, and there making such inquiries 
 among the people as he thought fit. Which 
 project, when I mentioned it to him, he 
 warmly commended and promised to put in 
 execution. 
 
 " Thou seest, Will," said he, " His Majesty 
 hath been exceeding gracious to me who 
 for many a long year carried on the trade 
 of a robber and a highwayman, and thus 
 forfeited my life many a time, though indeed 
 I never robbed a poor man In all my life, 
 but only such as could well afford to dis- 
 burse. I hold here a free pardon, and have 
 also served the King faithfully these many 
 years, and I would fain do something for
 
 PONTEFRACT MaRKET-PLACE. 243 
 
 my master, if only to show my gratitude. 
 For 'tis a poor dog, Will, that does not lick 
 the hand that feeds it. An thou wouldst 
 go with me, Will, I should be content, though 
 I had but ye three." 
 
 " But, sir, what would my mother and 
 Lucy do — and your own daughter. Mistress 
 Rose, too — what would they all do left alone 
 here without protection ? And the farm ? 
 Jacob is old and he gets feeble, though none 
 dare say so in his presence, and things would 
 go to rack and ruin in my absence." 
 
 *'Why," said he, "we must all risk some- 
 thing when duty calls. As for Rose, she 
 is well used to taking care of herself, though 
 indeed it hath somewhat puzzled me to know 
 how she is to make her way back to Carlisle 
 while I am away from her." 
 
 " That she must not do, sir," I answered. 
 " Let her abide here with my mother and 
 sister so that she will have women with her. 
 Maybe things will go on quietly hereabouts."
 
 244 PONTEFRACT MaRKET- PLACE. 
 
 " I fear there will be strife round here, 
 Will. Yonder Castle will prove a bone of 
 contention. However, Rose shall abide 
 where she is, and she will thank thee herself 
 for thy kindness.'* 
 
 *' Nay, sir, we want no thanks." Nor did 
 we, for we were only too pleased to have 
 Mistress Rose amongst us. As for me, what 
 with seeing her daily and thinking about her 
 when I did not see her, I was rapidly be- 
 coming more interested in Rose Lisle than 
 was well for my peace of mind. Nay, I 
 already looked forward to some occasion 
 when I might perhaps show my devotion 
 for her by protecting her from the dangers 
 which seemed to threaten all of us. 
 
 But Ben Tuckett, if he would not go to 
 the wars, was minded to win some glory by 
 showing his valour at home, and it presently 
 turned out that he desired nothing so much 
 as to be the protector and defender of the 
 women in our house, and more especially of
 
 PONTEFRACT MaRKET-PLACE. 245 
 
 my sister Lucy. This much I learnt from 
 him in person the day after the merry- 
 making, when he was leaving us to go back 
 to his shop in Pontefract. 
 
 " I can see, Will," said he, '' that thou 
 wouldst like to travel to the wars, and I 
 wonder not at it. If I were a King's man 
 like thee, I would go. But I am not. I 
 am for neither — only I wish they may soon 
 get matters settled. But if I were thou, 
 I would go." 
 
 " The women, Ben, the women ; and the 
 farm ! What is to become of them ? " 
 
 *' Why," said Benjamin, scratching his 
 head as if a fine idea had suddenly struck 
 him — " why, how should I do as a guardian 
 and a caretaker ? 'Od's rats, I know a good 
 deal about farming, and what I don't know 
 Jacob Trusty will teach me. And as for 
 taking care of the women, ah, I am a famous 
 hand with quarter-staff and pikestaff, and 
 can strike a blow with anybody."
 
 246 PONTEFRACT MaRKET-PLACE. 
 
 ** And what of your own affairs, Master 
 Ben — who is to look after them ? " 
 
 ''Why," said he, ''would it not be possible 
 to combine the two, think you. Will ? For 
 surely 'tis but a step from Pontefract to 
 Dale's Field, and I do not see why I could 
 not watch two birds at once. And then, 
 Will, thou couldst go to the wars with a 
 light heart." 
 
 " Why, Ben, thou speakest as if it were 
 a matter of joy to go and fight ! Well, 
 I like thy humour. Why, man, bethink 
 thee ! As for me, I see naught but sighs 
 and sorrowing, tears and bloodshed for many 
 a year to come." 
 
 "What, do you think it will be as bad 
 as that, Will ? God forbid. However, if 
 thou art minded to fight for the King, I 
 will see to thy mother and Lucy, and to 
 Mistress Rose, too. I am not a man of 
 war myself, but I can defend them, I think, 
 to some purpose.'
 
 PONTEFRACT MaRKET- PLACE. 247 
 
 Now, it was certainly very kind of my old 
 friend, Ben Tuckett, to make me so generous 
 an offer, for there is no doubt that I was 
 powerfully disposed to join the royal forces, 
 being somewhat inclined to war from my 
 boyhood, and having often thought over its 
 glories and adventures as narrated to me 
 by Jacob Trusty, who had a nice store of 
 learning concerning Agincourt and Crecy. 
 Again, there was the example of Jack 
 Drumbleforth to influence me. I liked the 
 idea of fighting shoulder to shoulder with 
 Jack, who had a sure pluck, and would 
 brave it out to the last gasp. In short, I 
 was disposed to go with all my heart, but 
 consideration for domestic matters held me 
 back. 
 
 On the following Saturday, Philip Lisle, 
 Jack Drumbleforth, and I rode into Pontefract, 
 intending to see how certain of our acquain- 
 tance were disposed towards the Royalist 
 cause. It was somewhat of a perilous thing
 
 248 PONTEFRACT MaRKET-PLACE. 
 
 to do, for the townspeople, taking them on 
 a whole, were on the side of the Parliament, 
 and we ran a risk of suffering some un- 
 pleasantness for our zeal. Nevertheless, we 
 determined to do what we could, knowing 
 that there were some at least amongst the 
 men we should meet there who would hear 
 us with favour, and maybe respond to our 
 appeal. What Philip Lisle wanted was men 
 who could turn out equipped and armed 
 with a good horse apiece, likely to stand 
 some wear and tear, and true enough to the 
 Royalist cause to make the quarrel a personal 
 matter. 
 
 Now, because it is the centre of a rich 
 agricultural district, the market at Ponte- 
 fract is always largely attended by the 
 neighbouring farmers, so that on market 
 or fair days there are several hundred people 
 scattered together in the market-place. 
 There they meet and collect in groups, 
 selling or buying various commodities of
 
 PONTEFRACT MaRKET-PLACE. 249 
 
 their trade, or talking together over subjects 
 connected therewith. And in one part of 
 the market swine are sold, and in another 
 corn, and in a third cattle, so that certain 
 streets and alleys are called Pig Market, 
 Beast Fair, Corn Market, and so forth. In 
 the centre of the Market-place, and right 
 against the church of St. Giles, stands the 
 Butter Cross, round which the country wives 
 congregate to sell their butter and eggs, and 
 where there is a continual stream of chatter 
 and gossip going on all day. A busy scene 
 indeed it is on market-day ; and as for the 
 inns, they are as busy as the street, and do 
 a good trade without intermission, for their 
 doors are never shut, and the long-settles 
 are always full of thirsty souls. 
 
 We had not been long in the town, and 
 indeed had only just handed over our horses 
 to the care of the ostler at the inn, when Ben 
 Tuckett, who had returned to his shop on 
 the previous day, caught sight of us in the
 
 250 PONTEFRACT MaRKET-PLACE. 
 
 crowd, and beckoned us to come to him. 
 So we edged our way across the Market- 
 place at Ben's shop-door, where he stood 
 looking complacently about him, clad in 
 a white apron, and appearing the very ideal 
 of a prosperous tradesman. Jack laughed 
 loudly at the sight of Ben in his apron, for 
 he looked so consequential and so important 
 that his pride seemed somewhat like that 
 of the turkey. When we drew near him, 
 however, Ben's look of self-satisfaction 
 changed to one of something like anxiety, and 
 he drew us after him into his parlour, which 
 lay behind his shop, and was out of earshot. 
 
 **Well," said Jack, ** thou lookest very 
 mysterious, Master Ben. Art plotting some- 
 thing treasonable, or is there going to be 
 a rise in candles ? " 
 
 " There may be a rise in heads before 
 long, Jack," answered Ben, who was never 
 put out nor annoyed. " Hark ye, gentlemen, 
 I have news for you. Since I returned home
 
 PONTEFRACT MaRKET-PLACE. 25 I 
 
 last night, which, God knows, I did reluctantly 
 enough, being so fond of Dale's Field that 
 I would " 
 
 " To the point, good Ben, to the point," 
 said I, impatiently. 
 
 '* Well, then, since I came home, as I 
 said, I have been making some inquiry 
 amongst my fellows as to how folks are 
 feeling in this town. Lads, there is not 
 overmuch good disposition towards the King 
 here. I fear ye will find little encourage- 
 ment. I went amongst them last night and 
 heard them talk," said Ben, shaking his 
 head, " and I heard some mighty seditious 
 language, Master Lisle. Star Chamber — 
 Strafford, Laud, Prynne, ship-money, ton- 
 nage and poundage — these were the strings 
 continually harped upon. So have a care, 
 gentlemen, what you say here, for I assure 
 you that the burgesses are pretty sore, and 
 would, maybe, give a sorer head to anybody 
 who offended them."
 
 252 PONTEFRACT MaRKET-PLACE. 
 
 '' That," said Jack, " is a game which two 
 can play at." 
 
 "What would three of you do against a 
 crowd ? And there is a strong party amongst 
 the magistrates who are Parliamentarians to 
 the backbone. So, an I were you, I should 
 keep quiet and leave the King to fight his 
 own battles." 
 
 " You are a man of prudence. Master 
 Tuckett," said Philip Lisle, with a grim 
 smile on his face, ''but an indifferent 
 partisan.'^ 
 
 *' That's true," said Ben, '* I am indifferent, 
 because I care for neither party. As for 
 me, I say, ' A plague o' both your houses.' 
 God send ye ruin not my shop in your 
 quarrels." 
 
 But in spite of Ben's advice we went 
 away from him still determined to do what 
 we could. Nevertheless, as prudent men, 
 we did not deem it advisable to draw upon 
 us the notice of those who, as Ben said.
 
 PONTEFRACT MaRKET-PLACE. 253 
 
 favoured the Parliament. But we went 
 amongst the crowd as if intent on our business 
 or pleasure, speaking here to one and there 
 to another, always selecting such as I knew 
 to be well-disposed to the King, and doing 
 what we could to induce likely looking fellows 
 to join in with us. And amongst the 
 yeomanry and the farmers, especially the 
 younger men, we found many a man willing 
 enough to join the Royalist army and to 
 find horse and arms, but held back by the 
 same obstacles which held me. There was 
 a wife and child to protect, or an aged 
 mother to care for ; there were the farm and 
 stock to manage, and so on. But we had 
 many an expression of good-will, and many 
 a promise to do the right thing if occasion 
 came that way. 
 
 Now, as we moved about amongst the 
 crowd, I noticed that we were watched more 
 than once by old Master Oldthwaite, who, 
 as you will remember, expressed his senti-
 
 2 54 PONTEFRACT MaRKET-PLACE. 
 
 ments somewhat freely at my merrymaking 
 a few nights before. I knew Master Old- 
 thwaite to be a strong partisan of the 
 ParHamentary party, for I had heard him 
 say that no king at all was better than a 
 bad king, and he oft gave utterance to 
 severe gibes and taunts against Laud and 
 the bishops, saying ^ that they were wolves 
 which ate up the sheep, rather than shep- 
 herds that took care of their flocks. He 
 was indeed somewhat celebrated in Ponte- 
 fract for his sentiments, for as he carried 
 on the trade of a corn-dealer in that town, 
 he was often heard in the inn-parlours, 
 where the tradesmen meet to discuss all 
 sorts of matters. Nevertheless, since I and 
 my father before me had had many a trans- 
 action with Master Oldthwaite, and always 
 been good friends with him, I did not think 
 he would do me an injury or conspire against 
 any friend of mine. But it would appear 
 that his political sympathies overcame his
 
 PONTEFRACT MaRKET-PLACE. 255 
 
 better feelings, for he took steps which pre- 
 sently resulted in much inconvenience to me 
 and my companions. 
 
 It was drawing towards evening, and we 
 three were standing in a quiet corner in the 
 market square, conversing with a knot of 
 young farmers, who were listening with great 
 attention while Philip Lisle talked to them. 
 There were a great many people round about 
 us, and the noise and bustle of the market 
 was as great as ever. Looking round I 
 caught sight of Master Nicholas Pratt, a 
 magistrate of the town, making for us 
 through the crowd, followed in the rear by 
 Master Oldthwaite and several others whom 
 I knew to be staunch Parliamentarians. And 
 then I felt that something was about to 
 happen. In which presentiment I was not 
 wrong, for Master Pratt, coming hastily to 
 us, cried in a rough and insolent tone — 
 
 " How now, gentlemen, what do you mean 
 by turning this public market into a recruit-
 
 256 PONTEFRACT MaRKET-PLACE. 
 
 ing-ground for the King ? Do you not 
 know that you are committing a breach of 
 the peace ? " 
 
 Now, we had all three, and those with us, 
 turned upon him when he first spoke, and 
 we now stared at him with astonishment 
 He was a large round-bellied man, with im- 
 pudent manners and much pride, and as he 
 stood swelling over us, I was reminded of 
 our great turkey-cock at home. 
 
 *' No, sir," said Philip Lisle, '' we do not 
 know that we are breaking the peace." 
 
 " Are you not recruiting for that traitor, 
 Charles Stuart ? " shouted the other, getting 
 very red and fiery. 
 
 ''We are recruiting for His Majesty the 
 King, sir," answered Philip Lisle, ''as we 
 have a right to do." 
 
 " We will not have it In this free town, sir. 
 Get you gone to where you came from. You 
 are not known here. And you, Masters 
 Dale and Drumbleforth, have a care what
 
 PONTEFRACT MaRKET-PLACE. 257 
 
 you do, and do not disgrace yourselves by 
 associating yourselves with adventurers and 
 braggadocios ? '* 
 
 " What, sir I " cried Philip Lisle, laying his 
 hand on his sword, *' do you dare to insult 
 one of His Majesty's officers ?" 
 
 " Officers, quotha ! " shouted a mocking 
 voice from behind the magistrate. ''Why, 
 sirs, 'tis Black Phil, the highwayman. Pretty 
 officer! If the King's officers are of this 
 kidney he must have scoured them from the 
 jails." 
 
 Now, Philip Lisle was so much enraged at 
 this insult that he instantly drew his sword, 
 and rushed forward to wreak his vengeance 
 on the speaker. This was the signal for an 
 immediate raising of sticks and staves, and 
 Jack and I, nothing loth, got back to back 
 behind Philip Lisle and began to lay about 
 us with energy, so that there was some very 
 pretty fighting went on for the space of five 
 or six minutes. But we were outnumbered 
 
 VOL. I. 17
 
 258 PONTEFRACT MaRKET-PLACE. 
 
 by twelve to one, and presently Philip and 
 Jack received such blows that they fell, and 
 I was powerless. 
 
 " Carry them into my cellar," shouted Pratt 
 to his men, " and lock them up there till such 
 time as justice can be done upon them." 
 
 And therewith they haled us across the 
 Market-place and shoved us into the magis- 
 trate's cellar, and locked us up with our 
 bruises and our reflections, which just then 
 were not at all pleasant.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 OF OUR ESCAPE FROM THE MAGISTRATE S 
 CUSTODY. 
 
 OW, what with the noise and confusion 
 of the last few minutes, taken together 
 with a somewhat hard blow that lighted upon 
 the back of my head, I was so dazed and 
 astonished that it was some moments before 
 I fully recovered my senses. However, 
 when I became master of myself, there I 
 was, sure enough, in the cellar underneath 
 the worthy magistrate's house. A remark- 
 ably dull and quiet place it was, and felt 
 very damp and cold to my touch when I 
 stretched out my hands and encountered the
 
 26o Of our Escape from Custody. 
 
 walls and floor on which we had been un- 
 ceremoniously thrown. There was rather 
 more than a little water trickling down those 
 walls, and my fingers encountering it bred in 
 me a feeling of much resentment against our 
 captors for treating us in such scurvy 
 fashion. Moreover, the hole was so dark 
 that I could see nothing, and there was not a 
 single ray of light penetrating through niche 
 or crevice. A most disagreeable place it 
 indeed was, and doubly so to me, who until 
 that moment had never been curtailed of my 
 lawful liberty. 
 
 While I was dimly recognizing these 
 matters, the rap on my head still troubling 
 me somewhat, I was startled by a groan 
 close at my left hand. This was succeeded 
 by a succession of snorts and sniffs, as if 
 some person were slowly awaking from a 
 sound slumber, and presently my ears were 
 saluted by the voice of Jack Drumbleforth, 
 who had evidently been bundled into the
 
 Of our Escape from Custody. 261 
 
 cellar in a much more damaged state than 
 myself. 
 
 '' Plague on it !" said Jack, as if grumbling 
 to himself ; " my head hums like a church 
 tower in ringing time. Where on earth are 
 we that 'tis so dark ? Methinks this 
 couch is not of the softest. Will — Will 
 Dale ! " 
 
 ** I am near thee, Jack." 
 
 "Hah!" said he. ''Well, I knew thou 
 wouldst not be far away. Where are we, 
 Will ? Fighting we were, I know ; and some 
 ugly crop-eared varlet gave me a foul blow 
 from the rear, and then — why, then I re- 
 member little more." 
 
 ** Nor I, Jack, for some one treated me 
 after the same fashion. But, Jack, where is 
 Philip Lisle ? " 
 
 " Plague on it ! he was with us too. Nay, 
 they may have killed honest Philip out- 
 right ! " 
 
 "It may be that he is in this hole with
 
 262 Of our Escape from Custody. 
 
 us," I said, beginning to feel around me in 
 the darkness. *' Stretch out your arms, Jack, 
 and search for him." 
 
 Now, the whole place was so black that I 
 was almost afraid to get on my legs and ex- 
 plore it, lest I should fall down some sudden 
 pit in the floor, and thus come to worse 
 things. However, I rose up, and cautiously 
 felt around me, meeting with naught but 
 damp walls and a slippery floor. Further off 
 I heard Jack grumbling at our fate, and 
 uttering many condemnations upon those who 
 had brought us to it. 
 
 ** An I had his worship down here," said 
 Jack, ** I would teach him better than to 
 throw three gentlemen such as we into 
 this vile fox-hole. What, things are come to 
 a pretty pass indeed when a round-bellied 
 old butcher like yonder shallow-pated grey- 
 beard sits on the bench to administer 
 justice ! Where art thou. Will ? As for me, 
 I am wandering in Stygian darkness."
 
 Of our Escape from Custody. 263 
 
 "Do you feel aught of Master Lisle, Jack ?" 
 
 "Nay, lad, I have felt naught yet save 
 this greasy floor and these damp walls. 
 
 This Ah, here is something, Will, 
 
 under my foot. 'Tis a man ! I swear 'tis 
 poor Master Lisle." 
 
 By that time I had felt my way towards 
 Jack's direction, and I stooped down and laid 
 my hand on the body. 
 
 " Master Lisle it is, Jack, and none other. 
 Pray God he is not dead ! Nay, his heart 
 beats, and he breathes. If we had but a cup 
 of water ! " 
 
 " God be praised ! " said Jack. " I have 
 a bottle of cordial in my pocket, which I 
 bought of Master Sage, the apothecary, for 
 old Deborah, our housekeeper. She useth 
 it for the falling sickness, but 'tis my opinion 
 that it hath somewhat of strong waters in it, 
 and is not ungrateful to the palate. What 
 do you say. Will ; shall we pour a drop into 
 his mouth ? "
 
 264 Of our Escape from Custody. 
 
 *' Quick, Jack, uncork the bottle and let 
 me try it. I am holding his head on my 
 knee. Can you feel him in the darkness ? 
 Pour it gently between his lips." 
 
 " Plague on this black hole ! '* said Jack. 
 " I have poured a good half down his 
 doublet. Hold his head steady, Will. 
 There, good Master Lisle, how is it with 
 you ? *Tis a fine cordial this, Will, and 
 strong enough to bring a dead horse to life. 
 There, thou seest, he is coming round. 
 Shall I dose him again ? " 
 
 "Gently, Jack, do not choke him. Thy 
 cordial smells like strong waters." 
 
 " Good faith, lad, 'tis little else. Shouldst 
 see our old Deborah smack her lips over it. 
 *A little drop. Master John,' she says, 'the 
 leastest drop in the world. Master John, is a 
 fine thing for a sinking heart.' So ho ! 
 Master Lisle, pull yourself together, man." 
 
 Now, the effect of the cordial was so 
 praiseworthy that Philip Lisle began to
 
 Of our Escape from Custody. 265 
 
 cough and then to struggle in my arms, and 
 finally raised his hand to his head and 
 uttered a most fervent groan, which, though 
 dismal enough in itself, was to me the 
 sweetest music I ever heard. For I had 
 feared he was mortally hurt, and then what 
 should I have said to Mistress Rose if ever 
 we got out of that black abyss again ? 
 
 " How do you now, sir ? " said Jack. 
 
 "Oh!" said Philip Lisle. "My head 
 rings like — is it you. Jack, and where are we, 
 and where is Will Dale ? " 
 
 " Here I am, sir, holding you up," said I. 
 
 " And I am here, holding the cordial,'* 
 said Jack. " Try another drop, sir — 'tis, I 
 assure you, the right sort." 
 
 " They have clapped us into gaol, I 
 suppose," said Philip Lisle, having again 
 drunk of the contents of Mistress Deborah's 
 bottle. "Well, 'tis dark enow for aught." 
 
 " This is no gaol," said Jack, " but only 
 his worship's cellar, and a damp hole it is.
 
 266 Of our Escape from Custody. 
 
 We are like to have the ague an we lie here 
 much longer, let alone the rheumatics. 
 However, 'tis the fortune of war." 
 
 '* Let me stand up," said Philip Lisle. 
 " Alack, lads, my head feels sore where 
 yonder snub-nosed rogue struck me with his 
 quarter-staff. Well, how long are we like to 
 remain here, I wonder ? " 
 
 '* Till master magistrate can do justice 
 upon us, I should think," said Jack. 
 
 **Why, man, what breach of the peace 
 have we committed ? We are in the right ; 
 'tis they who are in the wrong, rebels and 
 traitors that they are ! " 
 
 "Yea, surely," said Jack, "but they have 
 might on their side, and might, they say, is 
 right all the world over. However, what 
 care I ? When I elected to fight, I did not 
 expect to fight with a branch of asphodel. 
 Let us be as content as possible. If we had 
 somewhat to sit upon, and a little food and 
 drink, I could live till morning."
 
 Of our Escape from Custody. 267 
 
 Now, it appeared as if our captors were 
 going to leave us in that dark and uncom- 
 fortable lodging all night, for what seemed to 
 be a long space of time went by before we 
 heard aught of any of them. But at last, 
 when we had despaired of any succour, the 
 noise of a bolt and chain greeted our ears, 
 and suddenly a door, somewhat above our 
 heads, was opened, and a light streamed in 
 upon us, revealing the figures of the choleric 
 magistrate who had captured us, and of two 
 or three of his men. This small group 
 looked down upon us with something of 
 triumph in their faces. 
 
 *'So, my fine birds," quoth his worship, 
 *' so ye are caged at last, and are like to have 
 your wings clipped. A pretty pass we are 
 come to when such as ye incite honest 
 citizens to war and bloodshed ! " 
 
 *'Sir," said Philip Lisle, ''I am an 
 officer holding His Majesty's commission, 
 and "
 
 268 Of our Escape from Custody. 
 
 But at this he was interrupted by a burst 
 of violent laughter. 
 
 " Yes, indeed ? " said the old man. " Thou 
 art a noted highwayman, robber, and thief, 
 fellow. An officer, eh ? Methinks the King 
 would have done better to set apart some 
 officer to see justice done upon thee at 
 Tyburn. And you, Master Dale, a respect- 
 able yeoman, how can you associate yourself 
 with folk like these ? Fie on you. Master 
 Dale!" 
 
 ** Sir,'* I said, '* I know not what you 
 mean, but I am very sure that I shall punish 
 those who have placed me here. Let us 
 go at once about our liberty, sir. You have 
 no right to detain us." 
 
 " Nay," quoth he, " if we have not right, 
 we have power. We are for the Common- 
 wealth in this town, lads, and will have no 
 Star Chamber spies amongst us. Fie on 
 you, Master Dale ! And you, John Drumble- 
 forth, fie on you ! A parson's son, and thus
 
 Of our Escape from Custody. 269 
 
 early led astray. But what can ye expect ? 
 These parsons are but wolves that rob the 
 starved sheep, and their brood is no better." 
 
 " Sir," said Jack, '' if you refer to my 
 father, I make free to tell you that you are 
 a liar. For my father is as good a shepherd 
 as ever wore cassock and bands, though 
 indeed he prayeth not at the street-corners, 
 as I hear your worship is fond of doing." 
 
 Now, it would appear that the worthy man 
 was somewhat used to air his religion, so 
 that Jack touching him in a tender spot, 
 he presently withdrew in a great passion, 
 bidding his men bolt and chain us up again 
 until our proud stomachs were cooled. 
 Which they with alacrity did, so that we 
 were once more left to the damp and dark- 
 ness of the cellar. 
 
 This sad fate seemed peculiarly hard to 
 Jack and to myself, who had never known 
 what it was to have key turned upon us 
 in our lives, and who were, moreover, not
 
 270 Of our Escape from Custody. 
 
 accustomed to be treated in such summary- 
 fashion. The sound of the bolting and 
 chaining of our prison-door grated very 
 harshly upon our ears, and when the sound 
 had died away and all was silent, we each 
 gave vent to a dismal sigh. 
 
 ** Nay, lads," said Philip Lisle, " you must 
 not give way at a trifling matter like this. 
 What! 'tis nothing to be shut up in a hole 
 like this for an hour or two." 
 
 "With submission, sir," said Jack, "it 
 seems to me a good deal, and your hour 
 or two is like to be all night at least. 
 Moreover, where are we going to find food 
 and light ? A comfortable night's lodging 
 we are like to have, upon my word ! " 
 
 ** Courage, Jack," said I. '' We shall 
 manage to keep ourselves alive, I doubt 
 not. I pray there be no rats in these 
 cellars." 
 
 " Rats ! " said Jack. " Ah ! I see how it 
 is. We are to be eaten alive. These
 
 Of our Escape from Custody. 271 
 
 cellars, now — it seems to me, Will, that I 
 remember something of them in our school- 
 days." 
 
 "Why, of course, Jack. Do you not 
 remember Samuel Penn, the stout lad, whose 
 father kept the cooper's shop over against 
 the Cross ? We played many a game of 
 hide-and-seek with Sam under that shop. 
 Five or six doors away from this it is, and 
 I warrant these are similar cellars. If so, 
 we might wander in here a good while ere 
 we came at an end." 
 
 Which was true enough, for the cellars 
 under those ancient houses in the Market- 
 place at Pontefract are so extensive in size 
 that you might easily mistake them for 
 natural caverns. They are all hewn out 
 of the solid rock, and have so many twist- 
 ings and turnings and odd nooks and 
 corners, that one might hide there with 
 safety from a foe. Some of them, again, 
 are connected by secret passages with
 
 272 Of our Escape from Custody. 
 
 various parts of the town, such as the Castle 
 and the Priory of the White Friars, while 
 others have secret staircases by which 
 men could escape to the roof and leave no 
 one the wiser. Designed for safety and 
 protection they doubtless were in the ancient 
 days, and being underground, they are still 
 in the same condition as they were two 
 hundred years ago. 
 
 Now, after we had remained some time 
 in his worship's cellar, we began to grow 
 very weary, and would fain have reposed 
 ourselves if there had been aught to sit 
 upon. 
 
 '' What scurvy dogs are these," said Jack, 
 *' that will not give an honest enemy so much 
 as a three-legged stool to sit upon ! I never 
 remember my legs aching so much before." 
 
 ** I am going to sit on the floor, lads," 
 said Philip, " and I advise you to follow my 
 example. Take off your doublets and fold 
 them into a cushion on which to sit. It
 
 Of our Escape from Custody. 273 
 
 will at least keep the damp away from you 
 somewhat." 
 
 ''What!" said Jack. ** So we are to sit 
 upon our doublets all night, like a tailor on 
 a table, without support for back or head. 
 Fine work truly ! However, we will lay it 
 up against master magistrate, and charge 
 him royally for it when paytime comes." 
 
 Now, it seemed to me that we should be 
 much more comfortable if we all sat back 
 to back, so that each would lean against the 
 other. Which plan I proposed and carried 
 out, so that in a few minutes we were all 
 sitting in a triangle on the cellar floor, with 
 our knees drawn up to our chins. And after 
 that the night seemed to pass on slowly 
 indeed. 
 
 It might be about midnight, though indeed 
 it seemed to me and my companions much 
 later, when I became conscious — for I had 
 dozed somewhat — of a very low voice 
 whispering to us through the darkness — 
 
 VOL. I. 18
 
 2 74 Of our Escape from Custody. 
 
 'M-iist! hist! hist!" 
 
 " Who calls ? " I said In a low voice. 
 
 *' Is It thee, Will ? " whispered a familiar 
 voice. 
 
 "Yes, and here is Jack and Master Lisle," 
 said I. 
 
 "'Tis I, Ben Tuckett," said the low voice. 
 '' Are you watched at all. Will ? " 
 
 '' Nay," I said, " there is naught to see 
 us by here. Where are you, good Ben ? " 
 
 '' Hush ! " said he. " I will show a light." 
 
 Presently there was a faint glimmer of 
 light through a niche above the wall at our 
 right-hand side. We rose from our cramped 
 position and drew near to it. 
 
 " There is a door here," whispered Ben 
 through the crack, **if only I can find the 
 spring. Ye see, lads, his worship's shop Is 
 next to mine, so when I heard that he had 
 thrown^ you Into his cellar and meant to 
 detain you there all night, I came down 
 into my own cellar and began searching
 
 Of our Escape from Custody. 275 
 
 about for this door, of which I had heard. 
 Beshrew me ! 'tis mighty hard to push back 
 this same spring in the wall. Ah ! there it 
 is — but come forth quietly, gentlemen, for I 
 would not have them krtow how you got 
 out for all I am worth." 
 
 While he spoke he had found the spring 
 and caused the stone to revolve, and we now 
 passed out through a narrow slit in the wall 
 and found ourselves in worthy Ben Tuckett's 
 cellar, and at liberty once more.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 OF OUR FLIGHT FROM THAT NEIGHBOURHOOD. 
 
 OW, when he had brought us into a 
 place of safety, and had seen us 
 lodged in somewhat more comfortable 
 fashion than that we had lately enjoyed, 
 our deliverer sat himself down before us, 
 and looked at us with a severe countenance. 
 " Gentlemen," said Ben, " you have truly 
 brought misfortune upon yourselves, if not 
 upon others. Did I not tell you that you 
 would get sore heads if you strove to further 
 the King's cause in this place ? Was I not 
 right ? For sore heads you have, if I 
 mistake not ; and as for me, here I am
 
 Flight from that Neighbourhood. 277 
 
 helping ye to sneak out of my neighbour's 
 cellar as if we were all thieves." 
 
 " Peace, thou chattering knave ! " said 
 Jack. *' Thieves, indeed ! Why, Master 
 Ben, what does this mean ? " 
 
 " Like thieves, I said, Jack. Alas ! you 
 do not know what risks I am running, for 
 the folk here are so bitter against Strafford 
 and the Star Chamber that they would never 
 buy of me again an it were known that I 
 am a Royalist. For a Royalist I am, lads, 
 if I am aught." 
 
 " Dear lad," said I, earnestly, '' be what- 
 ever you please. Royalist or Roundhead, but 
 at present, for the love of Heaven, give us 
 something to eat and drink, for we are nigh 
 famished. At least," I added, " I am, what- 
 ever my companions are." 
 
 *' Famished am I," said Jack. " Hast got 
 by any chance, Ben, a meat-pie ? A meat- 
 pie — with eggs, hah ? And ale, Ben — a 
 large can of ale."
 
 278 Flight from that Neighbourhood. 
 
 *' Why," said Ben, scratching his left ear 
 as if the matter perplexed him, " I dare say 
 I could find something of that sort, but, lads, 
 how shall I hide your presence from my 
 household ? There are two 'prentices 
 upstairs that might perhaps keep the thing 
 secret, but the housekeeper — alack, she would 
 noise it abroad in a moment, and then where 
 should we all be ? " 
 
 ''Show me the way to the pantry," said 
 Jack. *' Let me fend for myself." 
 
 '* Why," said Ben, still scratching his ear, 
 '' if you could put up without forks and 
 plates, and could all drink out of one 
 horn '* 
 
 '' Good Ben," said Jack, " only produce 
 the food and drink, and we will show thee 
 what we can do without. Man, 'tis twelve 
 hours since bite or sup passed these 
 lips." 
 
 Thus adjured, Ben went softly away to 
 visit his larder, and ere lonor returned bear-
 
 Flight from that Neighbourhood. 279 
 
 ing a huge pasty of meat and a great jack 
 full of ale, at sight of which Jack's eyes 
 glistened exceedingly, as no doubt did my 
 own also. And after that there was silence 
 for a space, during which our jaws made up 
 for what our tongues lacked. As for myself, 
 I was as hungry as a hunter, and felt greatly 
 relieved when I had eaten and drunk. 
 Then, too, I felt my spirits revive, and 
 longed to meet the mob once more by 
 whose overpowering numbers we had been 
 beaten down and forced into the magistrate's 
 cellar. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Jack, having swallowed the 
 last mouthful of ale from the can, '* I am 
 myself once more. After all, there is naught 
 like food and drink for setting a man 
 up again. Master Lisle, how is it with 
 you : 
 
 " My head rings, Jack, my head rings 
 yet. There is a lump the size of a hen's 
 egg on the back of it. However, let us be
 
 28o Flight from that Neighbourhood. 
 
 thankful. We have escaped, thanks to 
 worthy Master Tuckett here." 
 
 *' Gentlemen," said Ben, '' I want no 
 thanks. 'Twas well for you I knew the 
 little secret. But now, lads, what are you 
 going to do ? " 
 
 " Do ! Ride home at once," said I. 
 
 *' Ride home ? But they have placed your 
 horses under lock and key." 
 
 Now, we had never thought of what 
 might become of our horses, and when Ben 
 gave us this news we looked at each other 
 in amazement. Philip Lisle, indeed, jumped 
 to his feet as if he would at once go forth to 
 release his own animal. 
 
 " Perdition seize them ! " said he. " I am 
 naught without my horse, old as he is. He 
 and I have had many a narrow shave, and 
 have escaped all dangers. Where have 
 they stowed our horses. Master Tuckett ? " 
 
 *' Nay," said Ben, " they are where you 
 left them — at the Peck of Malt, but master
 
 Flight from that Neighbourhood. 281 
 
 landlord has had orders to give them to 
 nobody save a magistrate's man. Under 
 lock and key they are at this moment." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Philip Lisle, " an that be all, 
 we shall not have much trouble in releasing 
 them. If you, Will, can show me the ins 
 and outs of the place, I will engage to have 
 them under us in half an hour." 
 
 *' And where will you go then ? " asked 
 Ben. 
 
 '' To Dale s Field," said I. 
 
 '' Better not at present," said he. '' For 
 I heard to-night that they have sent there 
 to search for papers, and it might go ill with 
 you to present yourselves there. They 
 have some mighty grievance against you, 
 Master Lisle, and indeed I heard certain 
 persons swear that you should hang ere two 
 days went by, which God forfend, for 'tis 
 a poor death." 
 
 '' Bah ! " said Philip Lisle. " The rope 
 is not spun, good Ben, that will hang me.
 
 282 Flight from that Neighbourhood. 
 
 However, Will, what Ben says Is good. 
 Let us absent ourselves for a while from this 
 part of the country and return later on. 
 What say you ; and you, Jack, what have 
 you to say ? " 
 
 " I am good for anything," said Jack. 
 ** It matters not to me whether we are here 
 or there." 
 
 " But what shall we do about those at 
 home?" I inquired. ''How can we leave 
 them ? Who knows, indeed, what may 
 have happened already ? " 
 
 " Nay, man, let them search for what 
 papers they will. They will find naught at 
 Dale's Field, either of yours or mine. And 
 I will not believe that Englishmen will cause 
 trouble to innocent women. When they 
 find naught they will go away and leave the 
 house in peace." 
 
 *' But they will not leave you in peace," 
 said Ben, '* for I heard that they were 
 determined, being strong Parliamentarians,
 
 Flight from that Neighbourhood. 283 
 
 to put a stop to your recruiting tactics, 
 Master Lisle. So therefore I say — take 
 yourselves to some safe place for a season." 
 
 " To the King's camp ! " said Philip. 
 
 '* Agreed," said Jack. '' Come, Will, In 
 for a penny, in for a pound. Let us with 
 Master Lisle to the King and see what we 
 can do there. You can return soon if you 
 think it well." 
 
 Now, my blood was somewhat heated by 
 the exciting adventure of the day, and I felt 
 mightily inclined to fall In with Philip LIsle's 
 counsel. I knew that Ben Tuckett would 
 see to the safety of my mother and sister 
 and of Rose Lisle, and as to the farm, my 
 mother and Jacob Trusty would manage 
 that. However I did not anticipate any 
 trouble In our neighbourhood, for I felt sure 
 that matters would soon settle themselves, 
 seeing that we were not fond of war and 
 liked trading and money-making mightily 
 better.
 
 284 Flight from that Neighbourhood. 
 
 " Well," said I, " then I will go with you, 
 but I shall hold myself free to return 
 homewards whenever I please. But now, 
 gentlemen, there are our horses to con- 
 sider. Are we to leave them where they 
 are, and if so, how are we to get away on 
 foot ? " 
 
 But it was out of the question that we 
 should leave the horses. Philip Lisle, 
 indeed, would not have left Caesar for all 
 the gold of Peru, and as the other two beasts 
 were mine — one of them my own mount and 
 the other lent to Jack — I did not feel inclined 
 to surrender them to people who had no 
 right to their custody. So we immediately 
 set to work making some plan whereby we 
 could rescue the three animals from the stable 
 where they were secured. 
 
 " I am not fond of fighting," said Ben 
 Tuckett, *'but I am a rare hand at a plot. 
 Gentlemen, harken to me. Jack, you know 
 the house that lies amongst the trees, 'twixt
 
 Flight from that Neighbourhood. 285 
 
 here and Carleton, at the corner of the lane 
 leading from Baghill ? " 
 
 "Truly," said Jack; "old Master Hull 
 lives there." 
 
 " That he doth not, because he is dead 
 this three weeks, wherefore the house is shut 
 up and desolate. Now, Jack, I will let thee 
 out through my garden here at the back, 
 and you must take Master Lisle across the 
 fields beneath Friars' Wood and lie by that 
 house until Will and I bring the horses 
 to you, which I promise you we will not be 
 long in doing. And now, friends, you 
 shall have another mouthful of ale and then 
 away." 
 
 Now, our task in getting easily away from 
 Ben Tuckett's house was a light one, for 
 those ancient houses in the market-place 
 have long out^-buildings and gardens in their 
 rear, and at the foot of them is Southgate, 
 and beyond that there lies a stretch of open 
 country, dipping down into a valley and then
 
 286 Flight from that Neighbourhood. 
 
 rising again until it reaches the village of 
 Carleton a mile away. Across the garden 
 and fields it would be easy enough to steal 
 unobserved, and thereafter we should have 
 no difficulty in riding away. To secure our 
 cattle, however, was a difficult matter, for 
 they were lodged at an inn which stood 
 right in the heart of the town and were, 
 therefore, hard to come at. Nevertheless 
 we were determined not to leave them with- 
 out a struggle. 
 
 Presently, then, Ben conducted Jack 
 Drumbleforth and Philip Lisle out through 
 his rear premises and set them across the 
 fields to the house lately occupied by Master 
 Hull. 'A fairly dark night it was by good 
 chance, and therefore gave us all the better 
 prospect of escape. It was past midnight 
 when Ben came back from letting them out 
 at the rear gate, and everything was quiet as 
 the grave. 
 
 ** Now, Will," said he, '* we will go out by
 
 Flight from that Neighbourhood. 287 
 
 the same way, for it will not do for me 
 to unbar my front door at this time 
 o' night. Let us pass round the town to 
 Church Lane and there see how the land 
 lies." 
 
 So we stole forth, climbing more than one 
 garden wall in our desire to keep concealed 
 from the sight of any who might be about at 
 that hour, and presently we got round to the 
 north side of the Market-place and went 
 quietly up the narrow lane that leads by 
 St. Giles' Church. In this lane were the 
 stables which held our beasts, and as the 
 lane itself was paved with rough boulders it 
 was quite impossible to bring them out by 
 that way. 
 
 Arrived in front of the stables we held 
 a council of war. There was evidently no 
 one on guard ; they had contented them- 
 selves with locking the horses in a separate 
 stable. Our work, then, was to find some 
 means of picking the lock and afterwards
 
 288 Flight from that Neighbourhood. 
 
 getting the animals out without awakening 
 the people of the inn. 
 
 ** This is the stable," said Ben, whispering 
 with his lips close to my ear. " I sent one 
 of my 'prentices round when I heard they 
 had seized your horses, and bade him find 
 out which they were confined in. This 
 it is — the door next to the great water- 
 butt." 
 
 ** But how shall we pick the lock, 
 Ben ? " 
 
 ** I have the necessary implements under 
 my cloak." 
 
 " But once inside how can we bring out 
 the horses without noise? Their feet will 
 raise a clatter on these cobbles." 
 
 *' I am not sure," said Ben, **but I have 
 an idea that from this stable there is a door 
 into a fold beyond. If it be so we can get 
 away easily. Will. But if not — why, we must 
 chance cobble-stones and everything and 
 ride for it ? '*
 
 Flight from that Neighbourhood. 289 
 
 While Ben spoke he had pulled out a 
 great chisel, with which he forced out the 
 staple to which the padlock was attached in 
 the stable door, so that we entered very 
 easily, and presently stood by the horses, 
 who were quiet and peaceful, as though they 
 knev^ themselves to be in prison. 
 
 ** 'Tis as I thought" said Ben, " there is 
 a door that leads into the fold. From the 
 fold there is a gate opening into the fields. 
 There is another lock gone, anyway. And 
 now. Will, let us get the beasts out. There 
 is manure in this fold right up to the stable 
 door, so none will hear if we walk a troop of 
 horses across." 
 
 Now, my own two horses, knowing my 
 voice and the touch of my hand, came 
 readily enough with me, and I had them out 
 of their stalls and in Ben's hand in the fold 
 in a moment, but Caesar, who was never 
 harnessed by any other hand than his 
 masters, was somewhat frightened, and 
 
 VOL. I. 19
 
 290 Flight from that Neighbourhood. 
 
 trembled as I strove to pacify him, so that 
 I grew anxious lest he should make a stir 
 and bring down the landlord and his men 
 upon us. However, by dint of coaxing and 
 free use of his name I got him out of the 
 stable and led him myself across the fold, 
 Ben following with the other two horses. 
 And presently, we were out in the open 
 fields, where we both mounted, I leading 
 Csesar by his bridle, and Ben riding Jack's 
 horse. Csesar was plainly frightened and 
 suspicious, for he knew that his master was 
 not with him and would now and then stop 
 and listen as he went along, so that our 
 progress was interrupted continually. It 
 was necessary, too, to make a long round in 
 getting to the appointed meeting-place, for 
 we had to skirt the town, passing round 
 Tanshelf and the high ground over against 
 the Priory, before we came to the lonely 
 house where Jack and Philip waited for 
 us. Then indeed there was much rejoic-
 
 Flight from that Neighbourhood. 291 
 
 ing 'twixt Philip Lisle and his horse — 
 nay, they could not have understood each 
 other better if they had spoken a common 
 tongue. 
 
 '' And now, gentlemen," said Ben, " I will 
 go back and leave you to your own devices. 
 Will, if thou goest to the war, I will see to 
 the women at Dale's Field. Make thy mind 
 easy on that score. Jack, if thou seest 
 fighting, remember thy old tricks. And so 
 farewell, friends all, and God send ye good 
 fortune and a safe return." 
 
 And therewith he gave us a clasp of the 
 hand and vanished into the darkness, while 
 we, clapping spurs to our animals, set out in 
 the direction of Dale's Field, riding past 
 Carleton and climbing the lower part of 
 Went Hill, so that we might the sooner 
 strike into the North Road. 
 
 Now, when we came to the old familiar 
 homestead and could just make out its roofs 
 and gables in the darkness, a great wave of
 
 292 Flight from that Neighbourhood. 
 
 feeling came over me that I should do wrong 
 to forsake it and those whom it sheltered. 
 It was my duty after all to stay there and 
 defend it and them. And so I turned my 
 horse's head to the orchard gate and drew^ 
 rein. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said I, " ride on and leave 
 me here. I cannot go with you and leave 
 all I have in these troublous times. It is 
 best that you should go, but not that I 
 should go with you. Go on therefore and 
 let me stay." 
 
 " You are right, Will," said Philip Lisle, 
 after a pause. " Yes, it is best that you 
 should stay and that we should go. You 
 shall hear of us soon. Take care of Rose, 
 Will. And so, farewell." 
 
 I grasped his hand and promised, and 
 then gave my hand to Jack, who squeezed 
 it between his own. 
 
 *' Good-bye, Will," said Jack. '' I wish 
 thou hadst gone with us, but 'tis best not,
 
 Flight from that Neighbourhood. 293 
 
 considering the women. Well, perchance 
 we shall get news of thee. Farewell. " 
 
 And so they rode away, and I, standing at 
 the orchard gate, heard the sound of their 
 horses* feet dying into silence far off along 
 the road. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, 
 
 LONDON AND BECCLES. C, C. ^ Co.
 
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