up his blue flag in the tap-room, and
was teaching every one.

"Here coom'th Maister Jan Ridd," said the landlady, being well pleased
with the call for beer and cider: "her hath been to Lunnon-town, and
live within a maile of me. Arl the news coom from them nowadays, instead
of from here, as her ought to do. If Jan Ridd say it be true, I will try
almost to belave it. Hath the good Duke landed, sir?" And she looked at
me over a foaming cup, and blew the froth off, and put more in.

"I have no doubt it is true enough," I answered, before drinking; "and
too true, Mistress Pugsley. Many a poor man will die; but none shall die
from our parish, nor from Brendon, if I can help it."

And I knew that I could help it; for every one in those little places
would abide by my advice; not only from the fame of my schooling and
long sojourn in London, but also because I had earned repute for being
very "slow and sure": and with nine people out of ten this is the very
best recommendation. For they think themselves much before you in wit,
and under no obligation, but rather conferring a favour, by doing the
thing that you do. Hence, if I cared for influence--which means, for
the most part, making people do one's will, without knowing it--my first
step toward it would be to be called, in common parlance, "slow but
sure."

For the next fortnight we were daily troubled with conflicting rumours,
each man relating what he desired, rather than what he had right, to
believe. We were told that the Duke had been proclaimed King of England
in every town of Dorset and of Somerset; that he had won a great battle
at Axminster, and another at Bridport, and another somewhere else;
that all the western counties had risen as one man for him, and all
the militia had joined his ranks; that Taunton, and Bridgwater, and
Bristowe, were all mad with delight, the two former being in his hands,
and the latter craving to be so. And then, on the other hand, we heard
that the Duke had been vanquished, and put to flight, and upon being
apprehended, had confessed himself an impostor and a papist as bad as
the King was.

We longed for Colonel Stickles (as he always became in time of war,
though he fell back to Captain, and even Lieutenant, directly the fight
was over), for then we should have won trusty news, as well as good
consideration. But even Sergeant Bloxham, much against his will, was
gone, having left his heart with our Lizzie, and a collection of all