d the Baronet. 'You should have had that sage piece of advice for
Monmouth's council to-day. Should he ever ask your opinion it must be,
"Keep the weather-gauge and board!"'

'I must to sleep,' said I, laying aside my pipe. 'I should be on the
road by daybreak.'

'Nay, I prythee, complete your kindness by letting me have a glimpse of
your respected parent, the Roundhead.'

''Tis but a few lines,' I answered. 'He was ever short of speech. But
if they interest you, you shall hear them. "I am sending this by a godly
man, my dear son, to say that I trust that you are bearing yourself as
becomes you. In all danger and difficulty trust not to yourself, but
ask help from on high. If you are in authority, teach your men to sing
psalms when they fall on, as is the good old custom. In action give
point rather than edge. A thrust must beat a cut. Your mother and the
others send their affection to you. Sir John Lawson hath been down
here like a ravening wolf, but could find no proof against me. John
Marchbank, of Bedhampton, is cast into prison. Truly Antichrist reigns
in the land, but the kingdom of light is at hand. Strike lustily for
truth and conscience.--Your loving father, JOSEPH CLARKE."'

'"Postscriptum (from my mother).--I trust that you will remember what I
have said concerning your hosen and also the broad linen collars, which
you will find in the bag. It is little over a week since you left, yet
it seems a year. When cold or wet, take ten drops of Daffy's elixir in a
small glass of strong waters. Should your feet chafe, rub tallow on the
inside of your boots. Commend me to Master Saxon and to Master Lockarby,
if he be with you. His father was mad at his going, for he hath a great
brewing going forward, and none to mind the mash-tub. Ruth hath baked a
cake, but the oven hath played her false, and it is lumpy in the inside.
A thousand kisses, dear heart, from your loving mother, M. C."'

'A right sensible couple,' quoth Sir Gervas, who, having completed his
toilet, had betaken him to his couch. 'I now begin to understand your
manufacture, Clarke. I see the threads that are used in the weaving of
you. Your father looks to your spiritual wants. Your mother concerns
herself with the material. Yet the old carpenter's preaching is,
methinks, more to your taste. You are a rank latitudinarian, man. Sir
Stephen would cry fie upon you, and Joshua Pettigrue abjure you! Well,
out with the light, for we should both be stirring at