he let the anthem go by very quietly--or rather I should
say very pleasingly, for our choir was exceeding proud of itself, and
I sang bass twice as loud as a bull, to beat the clerk with the
clarionet--and then just as Parson Bowden, with a look of pride at his
minstrels, was kneeling down to begin the prayer for the King's Most
Excellent Majesty (for he never read the litany, except upon Easter
Sunday), up jumps young Sam Fry, and shouts,--

'I forbid that there prai-er.'

'What!' cried the parson, rising slowly, and looking for some one to
shut the door: 'have we a rebel in the congregation?' For the parson was
growing short-sighted now, and knew not Sam Fry at that distance.

'No,' replied Sam, not a whit abashed by the staring of all the parish;
'no rebel, parson; but a man who mislaiketh popery and murder. That
there prai-er be a prai-er for the dead.'

'Nay,' cried the parson, now recognising and knowing him to be our
John's first cousin, 'you do not mean to say, Sam, that His Gracious
Majesty is dead!'

'Dead as a sto-un: poisoned by they Papishers.' And Sam rubbed his hands
with enjoyment, at the effect he had produced.

'Remember where you are, Sam,' said Parson Bowden solemnly; 'when did
this most sad thing happen? The King is the head of the Church, Sam Fry;
when did he leave her?'

'Day afore yesterday. Twelve o'clock. Warn't us quick to hear of 'un?'

'Can't be,' said the minister: 'the tidings can never have come so
soon. Anyhow, he will want it all the more. Let us pray for His Gracious
Majesty.'

And with that he proceeded as usual; but nobody cried 'Amen,' for fear
of being entangled with Popery. But after giving forth his text, our
parson said a few words out of book, about the many virtues of His
Majesty, and self-denial, and devotion, comparing his pious mirth to the
dancing of the patriarch David before the ark of the covenant; and he
added, with some severity, that if his flock would not join their pastor
(who was much more likely to judge aright) in praying for the King, the
least they could do on returning home was to pray that the King might
not be dead, as his enemies had asserted.

Now when the service was over, we killed the King, and we brought him to
life, at least fifty times in the churchyard: and Sam Fry was mounted on
a high gravestone, to tell every one all he knew of it. But he knew no
more than he had told us in the church, as before repeated: upon which
we were much disa