d remaining with him.

_He Washes the Feet of the Poor_

And upon Maundy Thursday he made his Maundy in Our Lady's Chapel, having
fifty-nine poor men, whose feet he washed, wiped and kissed; each of these
poor men had twelve pence in money, three ells of canvas to make them
shirts, a pair of new shoes, a cast of mead, three red herrings, and three
white herrings, and the odd person had two shillings. Upon Easter Day he
rode to the Resurrection,[5] and that morning he went in procession in his
Cardinal's vesture, with his hat and hood on his head, and he himself sang
there the High Mass very devoutly, and granted Clean Remission to all the
hearers, and there continued all the holidays."

Arrived at York, he indulged with a difference in his old love of
hospitality; "he kept a noble house and plenty of both meat and drink for
all comers, both for rich and poor, and much alms given at his gates. He
used much charity and pity among his poor tenants and others." This
caused him to be beloved in the country. Those that hated him owing to his
repute learned to love him--he went among the people and brought them food
and comforted them in their troubles. Now he was loved among the poor as
he had been feared among the great.

_Condemned to the Tower_

On the 4th November, he was arrested on a new charge of high treason and
condemned to the Tower. He left under custody amid the lamentations of the
poor people, who in their thousands crowded round him, crying: "God save
your Grace! God save your Grace! The foul evil take all them that hath
thus taken you from us! We pray God that a very vengeance may light upon
them." He remained at Sheffield Park, the Earl of Shrewsbury's seat, for
eighteen days. Here his health broke down. There arrived, with twenty-four
of the Guard from London, Sir William Kingston with order to conduct him
to the Tower. The next day, in spite of increasing illness, he set out,
but he could hardly ride his mule.

_His End_

Reaching the Abbey at Leicester on the 26th of November, and being
received by the Benedictine monks, he said: "Father Abbot, I am come
hither to leave my bones among you." Here he took to his last bed, and
made ready to meet his God.

The following morning, the 29th of November, he who had trod the ways of
glory and sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, he who had shaped
the destinies of Empires, before whom Popes and Parliaments had trembled,
he who had swathed himse