"That," exclaimed Cromwell, "brings us in rem.

How

are we to deal with his sudden arrival, which is evidently meant to overawe us?"

Then said Kimbolton, "Were it not well to let the novelty of his appearance wear itself off?—to wait till his impetuosity may give us an advantage ?"

Cromwell sternly said, "God has put him in our power by the King's ordering him here."

"You mean," asked Milton, "we should impeach him before the Lords ?"

"I do," said Cromwell with flashing eye. "I would not give him a day; but before he can reach his place to-morrow I would have the impeachment passed and presented."

"There are legal difficulties and risks in such a course," said Pym, "yet I concur in its policy. It would give a complete shock to all the Court plans, and strike out the chief corner-stone of their arch."

"The Lord has sent light!" exclaimed Cromwell with passion; "that's the very way! As he comes forth in his pride and power, like another Haman, to crush us, he finds his footing undermined, and is a helpless captive. We see our course," was Cromwell's conclusion, "and will retire to make all ready. Thanks, Milton, for this secure and unsuspected place of conference."

History relates how successfully the patriots executed this bold plan, and how Strafford found himself anticipated and condemned, while the solemn promise of his King was again broken by his fall. Our friends were spectators of that great scene of political justice. They saw the haughty Earl leave the House-his sword taken from him,—and as he passed no man uncovered to him, and all seemed glad of his disgrace. The effect was magical: the last buttress of despotism had broken down, and the friends of liberty took heart.

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"Surely," said Bridge, we shall escape the horrors of war! The Court must give way, and the King will come to agreement with the Parliament."

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CHAPTER XXXVI.

"At length I met a worthy reverend man,

Who thus began: There was a Prince of old

At Salem dwelt with flock and fold;

He sweetly lived, yet sweetness did not save
His life from foes.

After his death, out of his grave

There sprang twelve stalks of wheat,

Which many wondering at, got some of those
To plant and set.

It prospered strangely, and did soon disperse
Through all the earth!'"

N

HERBERT.

OW, Will," said his buxom wife in softer tones than usual, "if ever you bestirred yourself, you must be busy to-day. The day the Rector comes home must not find your father's son asleep. We must try to get back our snug house and clerkship, with its dues."

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But," answered Will, rather testily, "you women are always ready with a plan. I cannot break my promise to the Colonel, or Major, as he must be called here, when war is all but afoot. I've no liking for droning out Amens when men are giving and receiving stout blows for England's sake."

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Alack, alack! this war meets one at every turn. Should

you come back from the war with an arm or a leg lesswhich God forefend-it's no bad thing to have a comfortable cottage and a peaceful office to retire to."

"If you please," cried Will, "I would rather bring back all my natural limbs. But what do you want me to do?" "That young priest, Edward, had great fuss about his return. Well, you would not like our dear Rector, after his years of noble exile, to have no public welcome. And yet the people are that backward-I can't make them out. So go you round among the parishioners, and get them to make a procession and meet him beyond the gates."

"I'll do your bidding, wife; but I am not so sure how it will work, for 'Out of time, out of mind,' you know. Then they've heard of strange changes, and that the Rector comes home, not a regular English clergyman, but a sort of Dutch heretic, to entice them away."

"That's just as I thought. Now you and I know the Rector is really altered, and he may want to carry out his changes here. Goodbye then to your father's old place, which Simon Raven is keen after. Go and tell the people to be beforehand with the Rector,-to bring him in with a great company. Then, when he would come home, tell them all to bear him on to the church, shouting, 'A sermon! a sermon!' When he is in his own pulpit, and looks round on us all, he will not have the heart to vex us."

"Why, woman," said Will, scratching his head, "whoever made you think of such a scheme? I'll go about it with the best will in life."

Ann's plan was indeed one of the best that could have been devised; nor did it fail in execution. A handsome present was subscribed for, and a memorial of welcome signed for presentation. The whole parish was soon on foot in gala dress, and the Green of Tombland was ornamented with arches, while tables were set for a social gathering after the folk should have left the church. The people gathered readily at the proper time, and advanced

in procession, headed by the band of George's troop, now in military guard of the city.* At the London Road they waited patiently, till at last the small party on horseback appeared. There was the Major on his charger in advance, and Bridge, with his wife on a pillion. There was a slight pause when many of the flock, who had been exiles, came forward to greet their friends. Good Alderman Sherwood and the Rector embraced like brothers,-almost in continental fashion. Taylor grasped his friend's hand, and brushed away unbidden tears, as he said, "'Tis a bright day for us all that brings back to us a good and faithful man. A select group included the Brightlings and the Quakeress, Lucy Graves. Mr. Brightling's large person and warm salutations occupied the Rector so long that his daughter, sans ceremonie, pulled his arm, saying, "Dad, you quite shut us out, and let no one view our good friend but yourself."

Then the Quakeress stepped forth, and with silvery voice and charming simplicity said, "Dear man of God, thou hast borne shame and suffering for the Master,—thou hast been in the fiery trial. Was not thy Lord with thee?— hast thou not learned new experiences?—art thou not come back to lead us out of carnal bondage? Surely thou hast been in Patmos, and seen the Lord, and received the outpouring of the Spirit, and been raised out of the letter. Thou wilt never go back into the old legal synagogue! Welcome, thou newly-consecrated minister of the elect!" A solemn hush fell on the assembly as the holy woman spoke thus, like a prophetess of the olden time. So the procession divided, took the Rector's party in its middle, and moved on briskly over the hill to Tombland, where, instead of pausing, it bore on for the open church, many crying out "A sermon ! All protests were vain. The

* The records of the time name Major Sherwood as nominated by Parliament, under Cromwell, to take military command in Norwich. The soldiers seem to have given him for his probity a name such as the Roundheads affected, for he is called Major Livewell Sherwood.

church was soon filled. The Rector was escorted into his former pulpit. He looked down from the familiar elevation, and saw the pews filled by the old families. There sat his wife, and his Alice beside her, for she had joined her mother at the porch. After gazing all round a few moments, the Rector buried his face in his hands and wept aloud, while the congregation re-echoed his emotion. For some time all was silence, weeping, and prayer.

Will Barnard was pushed by his wife into the desk, and he broke up the contagious grief by raising a psalm of praise, in which all by degrees joined heartily. Bridge then read the sentences of Scripture, and some prayers and thanksgivings; and, gaining calmness, he at last addressed them from the same text as he first used at Rotterdam, on the promise of Christ's presence with His waiting people. He gave a brief description of that Sabbath, and the good people who welcomed them there, and the hand of God with them in works of mercy. Then he spoke of his gladness to return,—of his sorrow for England's troubles,—his sense of a need of further reformation in religion,—his unwillingness to commit himself till he knew what would be officially done. He promised at least to be their afternoon lecturer, as that office was restored. He called them to trust in the Head of the Church to bring England into better ways in Church and State, and declared his purpose to live among them as before. After some further practical exhortations, he closed the exciting service and left the pulpit. Again and again were the salutations renewed, till the people dropped away, and allowed their beloved minister to enter the Rectory, before the meeting on the Green should take place.

Will Barnard and his wife were at length the only occupants of the church, when the former softly said, “Now, Ann, was it not well done?—I'm sure I've had hard work. It's all gone right-hasn't it, wife? You look rather out of sorts."

“You've done well, Will, and the plan was a good one;