wounds will be well by the time you are
let out; and then we'll cut and slash the round-heads again. Shall we
not do them a good one, as we say in Lancashire?"

The name of his native county threw the thoughts of Eustace into a
train, no less painful than the wounded feelings of a soldier.--Its dear
emigrants, what would they now think of him! Even Constantia would
abjure him:--surely she would never hear of his being reproved as a
peculator, and ordered under an arrest for insubordination.

"You are too brave a gentleman to mind a few slashes and thumps,"
continued the talkative centinel; "the surgeon says they will heal up,
and you'll have a whole skin again presently; so it must be some other
sorrow which casts you down so. And nothing cuts a man up like sorrow,
as I have heard good Dr. Beaumont say."

The name roused Eustace to enquire how he knew the opinions of Dr.
Beaumont, and the eclaircissement proved the centinel to be Ralph
Jobson, the same person who refused to take the covenant at Ribblesdale
in the beginning of the civil war, and had ever since felt such a
reverence for the Doctor, as to connect with his name every sentiment to
which he affixed peculiar importance.--To have rescued his nephew from
death or captivity, was a most gratifying event to Jobson's honest
heart; and he readily offered to do Eustace any service, even so far as
to pass through the enemy's quarters, and inform the Doctor of his
misfortunes. "Not for the universe," replied Eustace, "in the present
situation of affairs."--"True," answered Jobson, "we must not rob the
King of one brave heart just now; and though I was only a poor carter,
and am now a trooper and quarter-master's man, mine is as true a heart
as that old Lord's with white hair, that I liked the look of. So by way
of passing the time, shall I tell you how I got away from the
constables, sent by Squire Morgan to take me to Hull, and went to
Nottingham and listed under the King; aye, and fought for him too, when
Lord Lindsey was killed at Edgehill; and helped to bury Lord Falkland,
and the young Earl of Sunderland at Newbury; and saw Lord Newcastle's
lambs dye their fleeces in their own blood; aye, and was taken prisoner
with the learned Mr. Chillingworth, who wrote against Popery at
Arundel-castle, and tended him when he lay sick, and was catechised by
Waller's chaplains for being a Papist. He could have talked them all
dumb, only he was speechless; and so at last they k