weekly from
Plover's Barrows, whenever he could find a messenger. And though we fed
not Sergeant Bloxham at our own table, with the best we had (as in the
case of Stickles, who represented His Majesty), yet we treated him so
well, that he reported very highly of us, as loyal and true-hearted
lieges, and most devoted to our lord the King. And indeed he could
scarcely have done less, when Lizzie wrote great part of his reports,
and furbished up the rest to such a pitch of lustre, that Lord Clarendon
himself need scarce have been ashamed of them. And though this cost a
great deal of ale, and even of strong waters (for Lizzie would have it
the duty of a critic to stand treat to the author), and though it was
otherwise a plague, as giving the maid such airs of patronage, and such
pretence to politics; yet there was no stopping it, without the risk
of mortal offence to both writer and reviewer. Our mother also, while
disapproving Lizzie's long stay in the saddle-room on a Friday night and
a Saturday, and insisting that Betty should be there, was nevertheless
as proud as need be, that the King should read our Eliza' s writings--at
least so the innocent soul believed--and we all looked forward to
something great as the fruit of all this history. And something great
did come of it, though not as we expected; for these reports, or as many
of them as were ever opened, stood us in good stead the next year, when
we were accused of harbouring and comforting guilty rebels.

Now the reason why the Doones did not attack us was that they were
preparing to meet another and more powerful assault upon their fortress;
being assured that their repulse of King's troops could not be looked
over when brought before the authorities. And no doubt they were right;
for although the conflicts in the Government during that summer and
autumn had delayed the matter yet positive orders had been issued that
these outlaws and malefactors should at any price be brought to justice;
when the sudden death of King Charles the Second threw all things into
confusion, and all minds into a panic.

We heard of it first in church, on Sunday, the eighth day of February,
1684-5, from a cousin of John Fry, who had ridden over on purpose from
Porlock. He came in just before the anthem, splashed and heated from his
ride, so that every one turned and looked at him. He wanted to create a
stir (knowing how much would be made of him), and he took the best way
to do it. For