nel Glover was a man
accustomed to use strong measures, whether with his family or with those
he had custody over.

No answer came for many days; and the Governor had almost begun to think
his message to be forgotten, when one summer evening (A.D. 1661) a troop
of horse were seen galloping from the Village towards the Castle. The
Drawbridge, which was on the ordinary kept slung, was now lowered; and
the captain of the troop passing up to the barbican, gave Colonel Glover
a sealed packet, and told him that he and his men would bivack at the
bridge-foot (for the fens were passable at this season) until one who
was expected at nightfall should come. Meat and drink were sent for, and
the soldiers, dismounting, began to take tobacco and rail against the
Castle in their brutal fashion--shame on them!--as an old mangy
rat-trap.

Colonel Glover went up into his chamber in extreme disturbance. He had
opened the packet and conned its contents; and having his daughter to
him presently, and charging her, by her filial duty, to use discretion
in all things that he should confide to her, tells her that his Majesty
the King of England, France, and Ireland was coming to the Castle in a
strictly Disguised habit that very evening.

There was barely time to make the slightest of preparations for this
Glorious Guest; but what there was, and of the best of Meat, and Wine,
and Plate, and hangings, and candles in sconces, was set out in the
Governor's chamber, and ordered as handsomely as might be for his
Majesty's coming. About eight o'clock--the villagers being given to
understand that only some noble commander is coming to pass the soldiers
in the Castle in review--arrived two lackeys, with panniers and
saddle-bags, and a French varlet, who said he was, forsooth, a cook, and
carried about with him a whole elaboratory of stove-furnaces, pots and
pans, and jars of sauces and condiments. Monsieur was quickly at work in
the kitchen, turning all things topsy-turvy, and nearly frightening
Margery, the old cook, who had been a baggage-wagon sutler at Naseby in
the Great Wars, into fits. About half-past ten a trumpet was heard to
wind at the bridge-foot, and a couple of horses came tramping over the
planks, making the chains rattle even to the barbican, where their
riders dismounted.

The King, for it is useless to make any further disguise about
him--although the Governor deferred falling on his knees and kissing his
hand until he had conduc