XIII. MAGNANIMITYToC

[12]Remember always that by 'priest' George Fox only means a man of any form of religion who was paid for preaching. Lampitt was probably an Independent. 'Professors,' as we have already seen, are the people usually called 'Puritans, who 'professed' or made a great show of being very religious.'

'Magnanimity ... includes allthat belongs to a great soul. A high and mighty Courage, an invincible Patience, an immovable Grandeur; which is above the reach of Injuries; a high and lofty Spirit allayed with the sweetness of Courtesy and Respect: a deep and stable Resolution founded on Humilitie without any Baseness ... a generous confidence, and a great inclination to Heroical deeds; all these conspire to compleat it, with a severe and mighty expectation of Bliss incomprehensible....'A magnanimous soul is always awake. The whole globe of the Earth is but a nutshell in comparison with its enjoyments. The Sun is its Lamp, the Sea its Fishpond, the Stars its Jewels, Men, Angels, its attendance, and God alone its sovereign delight and supreme complacency.... Nothing is great if compared with a Magnanimous soul but the Sovereign Lord of all the Worlds.'—REV. THOMAS TRAHERNE(A Contemporary of G. Fox).

'A magnanimous soul is always awake. The whole globe of the Earth is but a nutshell in comparison with its enjoyments. The Sun is its Lamp, the Sea its Fishpond, the Stars its Jewels, Men, Angels, its attendance, and God alone its sovereign delight and supreme complacency.... Nothing is great if compared with a Magnanimous soul but the Sovereign Lord of all the Worlds.'—REV. THOMAS TRAHERNE(A Contemporary of G. Fox).

'They threw stones upon me that were so great, that I did admire they did not kill us; but so mighty was the power of the Lord, that they were as a nut or a bean to my thinking.'—THOMAS BRIGGS, 1685.

Beloved Swarthmoor! Dear home, where kind hearts abode, where gentle faces and tender hands were ever ready to welcome and bind up the wounds, both visible and invisible, of any persecuted guest in those troubled times. Surely, after his terrible experiences on the day of the riot at Ulverston, George Fox would yield to the entreaties of his entertainers, and allow himself to be persuaded to rest in peace under the shadow of the Swarthmoor yew-trees, until the bloodthirsty fury against all who bore the name of Quaker, and against himself in particular, should have somewhat lessened in the neighbourhood? Far from it. To 'Flee from Storms' was never this strong man's way.[13]Gentle reeds and delicate grasses may bow as the storm-wind rushes over them. The sturdy oak-tree, with its tough roots grappling firmly underground, stubbornly faces the blast. George Fox, 'ever Stiff as a Tree,' by the admission even of his enemies, barely waited for his 'yellow, black and blue' bruises to disappear before he came forth again to encounter his foes. Certain priests had however taken advantage of this short enforced absence to 'put about a prophecy' that he had disappeared for good, and 'that within a year all these Quakers would be utterly put down.' Great, therefore, must have been their chagrin to hear, only a short fortnight after the Lecture Day at Ulverston, that the hated 'Man in Leather Breeches' was off once more on his dangerous career.

Fox's companion on this journey was that sameJames Nayler who had followed him on his first visit to Swarthmoor, a few weeks previously. Nayler was one of the most brilliantly gifted of all those early comrades of George Fox, who were hereafter to earn the name of 'the Valiant Sixty.' Clouds and sorrows were to separate the two friends in years to come, but at this time they were united in heart and soul, both alike given up to the joyful service of 'Publishing Truth.' The object of their journey was to visit another recent convert, James Lancaster by name, in his home on the Island of Walney that lies off the Furness coast.

On the way thither the travellers spent one night at a small town on the mainland called Cockan. Here, as usual, they held a meeting with the inhabitants of the place, in order to proclaim the message that possessed them. Their words had already convinced one of their hearers, and more converts to the Truth might have followed, when suddenly, at a low window of the hall where they were assembled, a man's figure appeared, threatening the audience with a loaded pistol which he carried in his hand. As this pistol was pointed, first at one and then at another of George Fox's listeners, all the terrified people sprang to their feet and rushed through the doors of the hall as fast as their legs could carry them. Their alarm was natural; probably most, if not all of them, had seen fire-arms used in grim earnest before this, for the period of the Civil Wars was too recent to have faded from anyone's memory.

'I am not after you, ye timid sheep,' shouted the man with the pistol as the scared people fled past him. 'It is that Deceiver who is leading you all astray that I have to do with. Come out and meet me, GeorgeFox,' he shouted, 'if you call yourself a Man.'

There was no need to ask twice. 'Here I am, Friend,' answered a quiet voice, as the well-known figure, in its wide white hat, long coat, leather breeches and doublet, and girdle with alchemy buttons, appeared standing in the doorway. Then, passing calmly through it, George Fox drew up scarce three paces from his assailant—his body making a large target at close range that it would be impossible to miss. The frightened people paused in their flight to watch. Were they going to see the Quaker slain? The stranger raised his pistol; he aimed carefully. Not a muscle of Fox's countenance quivered. Not an eyelash moved. The trigger snapped....

Nothing happened! The pistol did not go off. As if by a miracle the Quaker was saved.

Seeing this wonderful escape of their leader, some of the other men's courage returned. They rushed back to assist him. They threw themselves upon his assailant and wrenched the pistol from his hand, vowing he should do no further mischief. Fox, seeing in his adversary, not an enemy who had just sought his life, but a fellow-man with a 'Seed of God' hidden somewhere within him and therefore a possible soul to be won, was 'moved in the Lord's power to speak to him; and he was struck with the Lord's power' (small wonder!) 'so that he went and hid himself in a cellar and trembled for fear.

'And so the Lord's power came over them all, though there was a great rage in the country.'

The Journal continues (but it was written many years later, remember, when the account of what had happened could not bring anyone into trouble): 'Andye next morning I went over in a boat to James Lancaster's, and as soon as I came to land there rushed out about forty men, with staffs, clubs, and fishing-poles, and fell upon me with them, beating, punching, and thrust me backwards into the sea. And when they had thrust me almost into the sea, I stood up and went into the middle of them again, but they all laid on me again and knocked me down and mazed me. And when I was down and came to myself, I looked up and saw James Lancaster's wife throwing stones at my face, and her husband lying over me, to keep the stones and blows off me. For the people had persuaded James's wife that I had bewitched her husband, and had promised her that if she would let them know when I came hither they would be my death.

'So at last I got up in the power of God over them all, and they beat me down into the boat. And so James Lancaster came into the boat to me and so he set me over the water.

'And James Nayler we saw afterwards that they were beating of him. For while they were beating of me, he walked up into a field, and they never minded him till I was gone, and then they fell upon him, and all their cry was "Kill him!" "Kill him!" When I was come over to the town again, on the other side of the water, the townsmen rose up with pitchforks, flails, and staves to keep me out of the town, crying, "Kill him! knock him on the head! bring the cart and carry him to the churchyard." And so they abused me and guarded me with all those weapons a pretty way out of the town, and there at last, the Lord's power being over them all, they left me. Then James Lancaster went back again to look for James Nayler.So I was alone and came to a ditch of water and washed me, for they had all dirted me, and wet and mired my clothes, my hands and my face.

'I walked a matter of three miles to Thomas Hutton's, where Thomas Lawson the priest lodged, who was convinced. And I could hardly speak to them when I came in I was so bruised. And so I told them where I had left James Nayler, and they went and took each of them a horse, and brought him thither that night. And I went to bed, but I was so weak with bruises that I was not able to turn me. And the next day, they hearing of it at Swarthmoor, they sent a horse for me. And as I was riding the horse knocked his foot against a stone and stumbled, so that it shook me so and pained me, as it seemed worse to me than all the blows, my body was so tortured. So I came to Swarthmoor, and my body was exceedingly bruised.'

Even within the sheltering walls of Swarthmoor, this time persecution followed. Justice Sawrey had not yet forgiven the Quaker for his behaviour on the day of the riot. He must have further punishment. So right up to Swarthmoor itself came constables with a warrant signed by two Justices (Sawrey of course being one of them), that a certain man named George Fox was to be apprehended as a disturber of the peace. And clapped into gaol George Fox would have been, wounded and bruised as he was, in spite of all that his gentle hostesses could do to prevent it, had it not happened that, just as the constables arrived to execute this order, the master of the house, good Judge Fell himself, must needs return once more, in the very nick of time, home toSwarthmoor. His mere presence was a defence.

He had been away again on circuit all this time that George Fox had been so cruelly treated in the neighbourhood, and had therefore known nothing of the rioting during his absence. Now that he was back at home again, straightway everything went well. The roof seemed to grow all at once more sheltering, the walls of the old hall to become thicker and more able to protect its inmates, when once the master of the house was safely at home once more.

The six girls ran up and down stairs more lightly, smiling with relief whenever they met each other in the rooms and passages. Long afterwards, in the troubled years that were to follow, when there was no indulgent father to protect them and their mother and their friends from the bitter blast of persecution, many a time did the maidens of Swarthmoor recall that day. They remembered how, weeping, they had run down to the high arched gate of the orchard to meet their father, and to tell him what was a-doing up at the Hall. Thus they drew near the house, the Judge's dark figure half hidden among his muslined maidens, even as the dark old yews are hidden in spring by the snowy-blossomed apple-trees. When they saw the Judge himself coming towards them, the constables drawn up in the courtyard began to look mighty foolish. They approached with gestures of respect, giving a short account of what had happened at Walney, and holding out the warrant, signed by two justices, as an apology for their presence at Judge Fell's own Hall during his absence.

All their excuses availed them little. Judge Fell could look stern enough when he chose, and now hiseyes flashed at this invasion of his home.

'What brings you here, men? A warrant for the apprehension of George Fox,MY GUEST? Are my brother Justices not aware then that I am a Justice too, and Vice-Chancellor of the county to boot? Under this roof a man is safe, were he fifty times a Quaker. But, since ye are here' (this with a nod and a wink, as the constables followed the Judge up the flagged path and by a side door into his oak-panelled study), 'since ye are here, men, I will give you other warrants a-plenty to execute instead. Those riotous folk at Walney Island are well known to me of old. It is high time they were punished. Take this, and see that the ringleaders who assaulted my guest are themselves clapped into Lancaster Gaol forthwith.'

Well pleased to get off with nothing but a reprimand, the constables departed, and carried out their new mission with right good will. The rioters were apprehended, and some of them were forced to flee from the country. In time James Lancaster's wife came to understand better the nature of the 'witchcraft' that George Fox had used upon her husband. She too was 'convinced of Truth.' Later on, after she had herself become a Friend, she must often have looked back with remorse to the sad day when her husband had been forced to defend his loved and revered teacher with his own body from her blows and stones.

Meanwhile at Swarthmoor there had been great rejoicing over the discomfiture of the constables. No sooner had they departed down the flagged path than back flitted the bevy of girls again into the study, until the small room was full to overflowing. It was like seeing a company of fat bumble-bees, their portlybodies resplendent in black and gold, buzz heavily out of a room, and a gay flight of pale-blue and lemon butterflies flit back in their places. All the daughters fell upon their father, Margaret, Bridget, Isabel, Sarah, Mary, and Susanna; there they all were! tugging off his heavy riding-boots and gaiters, putting away the whip on the whip-rack, while little Mary perched herself proudly on his knee and put up her face for a kiss; and, all the time, such a talk went on as never was about Friend George Fox and the sufferings he had undergone, each girl telling the story over and over again.

'Now, now, maids!' said the kind father at last, 'I have heard enough of your chatter. It is time for you to depart and send Mr. Fox hither to me himself. 'Tis a stirring tale, even told by maidens' lips; I would fain hear it at greater length from the man himself. He shall tell me, in his own words, all that he hath suffered, and the vile usage he hath met with at the hands of his enemies.'

A few minutes later, a steady step was heard crossing the hall and ascending the two shallow stairs that led to the Justice's private sanctum. As George Fox entered the room Judge Fell rose from his seat at the writing-table to receive his guest, and clasped his hand with a hearty greeting.

The study at Swarthmoor is only a small room; but when those two strong men were both in it together, facing each other with level brows and glances of unclouded trust, the small room seemed suddenly to grow larger and more spacious. It was swept through by the wide free airs of heaven, where full-grown spirits can meet and recognise one another unhindered. Theydisagreed often, these two determined, powerful men. They owned different loyalties and held different opinions; but from the day they first met to the day they parted they respected and trusted one another wholly, and for this each man in his heart gave thanks to God.

George Fox began by asking his host how his affairs had prospered; but when, these enquiries answered, the Judge in his turn questioned his guest of the rough usage he had met with both at Ulverston and in the Island of Walney, to his surprise no details were forthcoming. Had the Judge not had full particulars from his daughters as well as from the constables, he would have thought that nothing of much moment had occurred. George Fox apparently took no interest in the subject; the most he would say, in answer to his host's repeated enquiries, was that 'the people could do no other, in the spirit in which they were. They did but show the fruits of their priest's ministry and their profession and religion to be wrong.'

'I' faith, Margaret, thy friend is a right generous man,' the good Judge remarked to his wife, that same night, a few hours later, when they were at length alone together in their chamber. The festoons of interlaced roses and lilies, carved in high relief on the high black oak fireplace, shone out clearly in the glow of two tall candles above their heads.

'In truth, dear Heart,' he continued, taking his wife's hand in his, and drawing her fondly to him, 'in truth, though I said not so to him, the Quaker doth manifest the fruits of his religion to be right, by his behaviour to his foes. All stiff and bruised though he was, he made nothing of his injuries.When I would have enquired after his hurts, he would only say the Power of the Lord had surely healed him.FOR THE REST, HE MADE NOTHING OF IT, AND SPOKE AS A MAN WHO HAD NOT BEEN CONCERNED.'

[13]'Flee from Storms' is a motto in the note-book of Leonardo da Vinci.

'Many a notable occurrence MilesHalhead had in his life.... But his going thus often from home was a great cross to his wife, who in the first year of his change, not being of his persuasion, was often much troubled in her mind, and would often say from discontent, "Would to God I had married a drunkard, then I might have found him at the alehouse; but now I cannot tell where to find my husband."'—SEWEL.

To Friends—To take care of such as suffer for owning the Truth.'And that if any friends be oppressed any manner of way, others may take care to help them: and that all may be as one family, building up one another and helping one another.'

To Friends—To take care of such as suffer for owning the Truth.

'And that if any friends be oppressed any manner of way, others may take care to help them: and that all may be as one family, building up one another and helping one another.'

'And, friends, go not into the aggravating part to strive with it, lest you do hurt to your souls, and run into the same nature; forPATIENCE MUST GET THE VICTORY, and it answers to that of God in everyone and will bring everyone from the contrary. So let your temperance and moderation and patience be known to all.'—GEORGE FOX.

'Non tristabit justum quidquid si accederit.''Whatever happens to the righteous man it shall not heavy him.'—RICHARD ROLLE. 1349.

A Plain, simple man was Miles Halhead, the husbandman of Mountjoy. Ten years older than Fox was he, and wise withal, so that men wondered to see him forsake his home and leave wife and child at the call of the Quaker's preaching, and go forth instead to become a preacher of the Gospel.

Yet, truth to tell, the change was natural and easily explained. All his life Miles had had to do with seeds buried in the ground. Therefore when he heard George Fox preach at his home near Underbarrow in Westmorland, telling all men to consider 'that as the fallow ground in their fields must be ploughed up before it would bear seed to them, so must the fallow ground of their hearts be ploughed up before they could bear seed to God,' Miles' own past experience as a husbandman bore witness to the truth of this doctrine. His whole nature sprang forward to receive it; and thus, in a short while, he was mightily convinced.

Now at that time there were, as we know, many companies of Seekers scattered up and down the pleasant Westmorland dales. Miles himself had been one of such a group, but now, having found that which he had aforetime been a-seeking, nought was of any value to him, but that his old companions should likewise cease to be Seekers, and become also in their turn Finders. Yet Miles wondered often how such an one as he should be able to convince them. For he was neither skilful nor ready of tongue, nor of a commanding presence like Friend George Fox, but onlya simple husbandman. Still he was wary in his discourse, from his long watching of the faces of Earth and Sky—full also he was of a most convincing silence; and, though as yet he had proved it not, staunch to suffer for his faith. It was said of him that 'his Testimony was plaine and powerful, he being a plain simple man.'

Thus Miles Halhead began to preach the Gospel, at first only in the hamlets and valleys round his home at Underbarrow near to Kendal. But one day when the daffodils were all abloom, and blowing their golden trumpets silently beside the sheltered streams, it came to him that he must take a further journey, and must follow the golden paths of the daffodils over hill and vale, until at the end of this street of gold he should come to Swarthmoor Hall; that there he might assist his friends at their Meeting, and with them be strengthened and have his soul refreshed.

A walk of seventeen miles or so lay before him, and an easy journey it should prove in this gay springtime, though in winter, when the snow lay drifted on the uplands, it would have been another matter. He could have travelled by the sheltered road that runs through the valley. It being springtime, however, and a sunny day when Miles set out from his home, he chose for pure pleasure to go by the fells. First, he travelled across the Westmorland country till he came to the lower end of Lake Winandermere, where the hills lie gently round like giants' children, being not yet full grown into giants themselves with brows that touch the sky, as they are at the upper end of that same shining lake. Then, leaving Winandermere, across the Furness fells he came, keeping ever onhis right hand the Old Man of Coniston, who, with his head for the most part wrapped in clouds, standeth yet, as he hath stood for ages, the Guardian of all that region.

Thus at length, as Miles journeyed, he came within sight of the promontory of Furness, that lies encircled by the sea, even as a babe's head lies in the crook of a woman's elbow. Seeing this, Miles' heart rejoiced, for he knew that his journey's end was in sight, and he tramped along blithely and without fear.

Suddenly, on the path at some distance ahead of him, he saw a patch of brilliant green and purple coming towards him—a gay figure more likely to be met with in the streets of London than on those lonely fells. Miles thought to himself as it drew nearer, ''Tis a woman!' then, 'Nay, it is surely a great Thistle coming towards me; no woman would wear garments such as those in this lonely place.' As he shaded his eyes the better to see what might be approaching, his mind ran back to the first sermon he had ever heard George Fox preach, on his first visit to Underbarrow, when he said, 'That all people in the Fall were gone from the image of God, righteousness and holiness, and were degenerated into the nature of beasts, of serpents, of tall cedars, of oaks, of bulls and of heifers.' ... 'Some were in the nature of dogs and swine, biting and rending; some in the nature of briars, thistles and thorns; some like the owls and dragons in the night; some like the wild asses and horses snuffing up the wind; and some like the mountains and rocks, and crooked and rough ways.' 'I was not certain of his meaning when I first heard him utter these words,' simple Miles thought to himself, 'but now that I seethis fine Thistle coming towards me, I begin to understand him. Haply it is but a Thistle in outer seeming, and carries within the nature of a Lily or a Rose.'

Even as he thought of this, the Thistle came yet nearer, and when he could see it more plainly he feared that neither Lily nor Rose was there, but a Thistle full of prickles in very truth. It was indeed a woman, but clad in more gorgeous raiment than Miles had ever seen. Green satin was her robe, slashed with pale yellow silk, marvellous to behold. But it was the hat that drew Miles' gaze, for though newly come to be a Quaker preacher, he had been a husbandman long enough to be swift to notice the garb of all growing, living things, whether they were flowers or dames. Truly the hat was marvellous, of a bright purple satin, and crowned with such a tuft of tall feathers that the wearer's face could scarcely be seen beneath its shade. Dressed all in gaudy style was this fine Madam; and, as she passed Miles, she tilted up her head and drew her skirts disdainfully together, lest they should be soiled by his approach. Although the lady appeared to see him not, but to be gazing at the sky, she was in truth well aware of his presence, and awaited even hungrily a lowly obeisance from him, that should assure her in her own sight of her own importance. For of no high-born lineage was this flaunting dame, no earl's or duke's daughter, else perhaps she had been too well aware of her own dignity and worth to insist upon others acknowledging it. She was but the young wife of the old Justice, Thomas Preston, and a plain Mistress, like Miles' own simple wife at home, in spite of her gay garments and flaunting airs. But the fact that she had newly come to live at Holker Hall, thefinest mansion in all that country-side, had uplifted her in her own sight, and puffed her out with pride, sending her forth at all hours into unseasonable places to show off her fine new London clothes.

Therefore she paused a little as she passed Miles, waiting for him to doff his hat and bend his knee, and declare himself in all lowliness her servant. But Miles had never a thought of doing this. Though he was but newly turned Quaker, right well he remembered hearing George Fox say—

'Moreover, when the Lord sent me forth into the world, He forbade me to put off my hat to any—high or low—and I was required to "thee" and "thou" all men and women, without any respect to rich or poor, great or small. And as I travelled up and down, I was not to bid people "Good-morrow," or "Good-evening," neither might I bow or scrape with the leg to anyone, and this made the sects and the professors to rage.'

Miles, too, having learnt this lesson and made it his own, passed by the lady in all soberness and quietness, taking no more notice of her than if she had been one of those dames painted on canvas by the late King's painter, Sir Anthony Van Dyck, which, truth to tell, she mightily resembled. The haughty fair one seeing this, as soon as he had fully passed and she could no longer delude herself with the hope that the longed-for salute was coming, was vastly and mightily incensed. It was not her hat alone that was thistle colour then: her face, her forehead, her neck all blazed and burned in one purple flush of rage. Only her cheeks stayed a changeless crimson, and that for a very excellent reason, easy to guess. Violently sheturned herself to a serving-man who was following in her train, following so humbly, and being so much hidden by Madam's fallals and furbelows, that until that moment Miles had not even seen that he was there.

'Back, sirrah!' she said in a loud, angry voice, speaking to the man as if he had been a dog or a horse, 'back with thy staff and beat that unmannerly knave till thou hast taught him 'twere well he should learn to salute his betters.'

The servant was tired of following his lady like a lap-dog, and attending to all her whims and whimsies. Scenting sport more nearly to his liking, he obeyed, nothing loath. He fell upon Miles and beat him lustily and stoutly, expecting every moment that he would resist or beg for mercy.

Mistress Preston meanwhile, having turned full round, watched the thwacking blows, and counted each one as it fell, with a smile of pleasure. But her smile speedily became an angry frown, for Miles, well knowing to whom his chastisement was due, paid no heed to the serving-man, let him lay on never so soundly, but turned himself round under the blows, and cried out in a loud voice to her: 'Oh, thou Jezebel, thou proud Jezebel, canst thou not permit and suffer the servant of the Lord to pass by thee quietly?'

Now at that word 'Jezebel,' Mistress Preston's anger was yet more mightily inflamed against Miles, for she knew that he had discovered the reason why her cheeks had remained pink, and flushed not thistle purple like the rest of her countenance. Even the serving-man smiled to himself, a mocking smile, and hummed in a low voice, as he continued to lay the blows thickly on Miles, a ditty having this refrain—

'Jezebel, the proud Queen,[217]Painted her face,'

He did not suppose that his mistress would recognise the tune; but recognise it she did, and it increased her anger yet more, if that were possible. She flung out both hands in a fury, as if she would herself have struck at Miles, then, thinking him not fit for her touch, she changed her mind, and spat full in his face. Oh, what a savage Thistle was that woman, and worse far than any Thistle in her behaviour! Loudly, too, she exclaimed, 'I scorn to fall down at thy words!' Her meaning in saying this is not fully clear, but it may be, as Miles had called her Jezebel, she meant that no one should ever cast her down from her high estate, as Jezebel was cast down from the window in the Palace, whence she mocked at Jehu. This made Miles testify yet once more—'Thou proud Jezebel,' said he, 'thou that hardenest thine heart and brazenest thy face against the Lord and His servant, the Lord will plead with thee in His own time and set in order before thee the things thou hast this day done to His servant.'

By this time the lady's lackey had at length stopped his beating, not out of mercy to Miles, but simply because his arm was weary. Yet he still kept humming under his breath another verse of the same ditty, ending—

'Jezebel, the proud Queen,'Tired her hair!'

Miles, therefore, being loosed from his hands, parted from both mistress and man, and left them standing without more words and himself passed on, bruised and buffeted, to continue his journey in sorediscomfort of body until he came to Swarthmoor.

Arrived at that gracious home, his friends comforted him and bound up his aching limbs, as indeed they were well accustomed to do in those days, when the guests who arrived at Swarthmoor had too often been sorely mishandled. Even to this day, in all the lanes around, may be seen the walls composed of sharp, grey, jagged stones, over which is creeping a covering of soft golden moss. So in those old days of which I write, men, aye and women too, often came to Swarthmoor torn and bleeding, perhaps sometimes with anger in their hearts (though Miles Halhead was not of these), and all alike found their inward and outward wounds staunched and assuaged by the never-failing sympathy of kindly hearts, and hands more soft than the softest golden moss.

Thus Miles Halhead was comforted of his friends at Swarthmoor, and inwardly refreshed. Yet the matter of his encounter with the haughty lady, and of her prickly thistle nature, rested on his mind, and he could not be content without giving her yet one more chance to doff her prickles and become a sweet and fragrant flower in the garden of the Lord. Therefore, three months later, being continually urged thereunto by 'the true Teacher which is within,' he determined to take yet another journey and come himself to Holker Hall, and ask to speak with its mistress and endeavour to bring her to a better mind. Thither then in due course he came. Now a mansion surpassing grand is Holker Hall, the goodliest in all that country-side. And a plain man and a simple, as has been said, was Miles Halhead the husbandman of Mountjoy, even among the Quakers—who were none of them gaygallants. Nevertheless, being full of a great courage though small in stature, all weary and travel-stained as he was, to Holker Hall Miles Halhead came. He would not go to any back door or side door, seeing that his errand was to the mistress of the stately building. He walked therefore right up the broad avenue till he came to the front entrance, with its grand portico, where a king had been welcomed before now.

As luck would have it, the door stood open as the Quaker approached, and the mistress of Holker Hall herself happened to be passing through the hall behind. She paused a moment to look through the open door, intending most likely to mock at the odd figure she saw approaching. But on that instant she recognised Miles as the man who had called her Jezebel. Now Miles at first sight did not recognise her, and was doubtful if this could be the haughty Thistle lady he sought, or if it were not a Lily in very truth. For Mistress Preston was clad this hot day in a lily-like frock of white clear muslin, all open at the neck and short enough to show her ankles and little feet, and tied with a blue ribbon round the waist, a garb most innocent to look upon, and more suited to a girl in her teens than to the Justice's wife, the buxom mistress of Holker Hall.

Therefore Miles, not recognising her, did ask her if she were in truth the woman of the house. To which she, seeing his uncertainty, answered lyingly: 'No, that I am not, but if you would speak with Mistress Preston, I will entreat her to come to you.'

Even as the words left her lips, Miles was sensible that she was speaking falsely, seeing how, even under the paint, her cheeks took on a deeper hue. Andshe, ever mindful that it was that same man who had called her Jezebel, went into the house and returning presently with another woman, declared that here was Mistress Preston, and demanded what was his will with her. No sooner had she spoken a second time than it was manifested to Miles with perfect clearness that she herself and none other was the woman he sought. Wherefore, in spite of her different dress and girlish mien, he said to her, 'Woman, how darest thou lie before the Lord and His servant?'

And she, being silent, not speaking a word, he proceeded, 'Woman, hear thou what the Lord's servant hath to say unto thee,—O woman, harden not thy heart against the Lord, for if thou dost, He will cut thee off in His sore displeasure; therefore take warning in time, and fear the Lord God of Heaven and Earth, that thou mayest end thy days in peace.' Having thus spoken he went his way; she, how proud soever, not seeking to stay him nor doing him any harm, but standing there silent and dumb under the tall pillars of the door, being withheld and stilled by something, she knew not what.

Yet her thistle nature was not changed, though, for that time, her prickles were blunted. It chanced that several years later, when George Fox was a prisoner at Lancaster, this same gay madam came to him and 'belched out many railing words,' saying among the rest that 'his tongue should be cut off, and he be hanged.' Instead of which, it was she herself that was cut off and died not long after in a miserable condition.

Thus did Mistress Preston of Holker Hall refuse to bow her haughty spirit, yet the matter betwixt her and Miles ended not altogether there. For ithappened that another April day, some three springs after Miles Halhead had encountered her the first time, as he was again riding from Swarthmoor towards his home near Underbarrow, and again being come near to Holker Hall, he met a man unknown to him by sight. This person, as Miles was crossing a meadow full of daffodils that grew beside a stream, would not let him pass, as he intended, but stopped and accosted him. 'Friend,' said he to Miles, 'I have something to say to you which hath lain upon me this long time. I am the man that about three years ago, at the command of my mistress, did beat you very sore; for which I have been very troubled, more than for anything which ever I did in all my life: for truly night and day it hath been in my heart that I did not well in beating an innocent man that never did me any hurt or harm. I pray you forgive me and desire the Lord to forgive me, that I may be at peace and rest in my mind.'

To whom Miles answered, 'Truly, friend, from that time to this day I have never had anything in my heart towards either thee or thy mistress but love. May God forgive you both. As for me, I desire that it may not be laid to your charge, for you knew not what you did.' Here Miles stopped and gave the man his hand and forthwith went on his way; and the serving-man went on his way; both of them with a glow of brotherhood and fellowship within their hearts. While the daffodils beside the stream looked up with sunlit faces to the sun, as they blew on their golden trumpets a blast of silent music, for joy that ancient injury was ended, and that in its stead goodwill had come.

'As early as 1654 sixty-threeministers, with their headquarters at Swarthmoor, and undoubtedly under central control, were travelling the country upon "Truth's ponies"'—JOHN WILHELM ROWNTREE.

'It is interesting to note and profitable to remember, how large a part these sturdy shepherds and husbandmen, from under the shade of the great mountains, had in preaching the doctrines of the Inward Light and of God's revelation of Himself to every seeking soul, in the softer and more settled countries of the South.'—THOMAS HODGKIN.

'Some speak to the conscience; some plough and break the clods; some weed out, and some sow; some wait that fowls devour not the seed. But wait all for the gathering of the simple-hearted ones.' ... 1651.'Friends, spread yourselves abroad, that you may be serviceable for the Lord and His Truth.' 1654.'Love the Truth more than all, and go on in the mighty power of God, as good soldiers of Christ, well-fixed in His glorious gospel, and in His word and power; that you may know Him, the life and salvation and bring up others into it.'—G. FOX.

'Friends, spread yourselves abroad, that you may be serviceable for the Lord and His Truth.' 1654.

'Love the Truth more than all, and go on in the mighty power of God, as good soldiers of Christ, well-fixed in His glorious gospel, and in His word and power; that you may know Him, the life and salvation and bring up others into it.'—G. FOX.

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