eye-witness to the ceremony.

"Roger Wrinstone, thy mocking is ill-timed," said Marsh, with a severe
and steadfast gaze, which seemed to awe even this unblushing minion of
intolerance. "If thy master be not arisen, I will tarry awhile his
worship's leisure."

"Sir Roger is with his priest at confession," said one, with a shout of
derision. "Art come to confess him too, Father Marsh?" and with that
they plucked him by the beard, mocking and ill-treating him. But, filled
with joy that he was accounted worthy to suffer, he passed from them
into the great hall, at that period a large and lofty room, which, as
tradition reports, would have "dined all the monarchs of Europe, and all
their trains." It has since been much curtailed of its proportions,
modern improvements having appropriated it to more useful purposes. The
wainscots were enriched with choice and beautiful carvings, representing
bucks' heads, flowers, and portraits of the most distinguished ancestors
of the family. So numerous and varied were these ornaments, that, it is
commonly reported, the artist wrought out his apprenticeship in
executing this grand work, which for minuteness and the astonishing
number and ingenuity of the devices, perhaps exceeded most of the like
nature throughout the realm. Amongst other whimsical fancies was a ton
crossed with a bar, having the cyphers A and B above and below, which
worthless and absurd pun, a sort of emblematic wit much cultivated by
our forefathers, indicated the name of the founder, Sir Andrew Barton.

Marsh, on his first entrance, inquired of a servitor if the Justice
might be spoken with. The menial was bearing off the remains of a
substantial breakfast, and having a flagon of beer at hand, invited the
stranger to a hearty draught, saying that he looked tired and in need of
refreshment; but he meekly put it aside, with due courtesy, still
standing as he repeated his question. The man departed to make the
inquiry, when presently followed the constable and his gang, who, seeing
that the hall was cleared, strode in, rudely seizing Marsh by the
shoulder.

"Thou art my prisoner," said Wrinstone; "I arrest thee in the Queen's
name."

At this moment came running in a little girl, bounding and frolicsome as
a young fawn from its covert, who, hearing the word prisoner, and seeing
a man of such a preposessing and benign aspect in custody, immediately
came up to Wrinstone, and laid hold of the skirts of his doublet,
sa