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Wakefield, Hexham, Barnet, Tewkesbury, and all that happened there; nor of the later struggles of Edge Hill, Newbury, Marston Moor, Naseby, Worcester; or of the gallant sieges of Reading, Bristol, Gloucester, and other places. All this you will find in the historybooks.

But our English villages suffered very much from these wars. All farming was stopped, manor-houses destroyed, some of the best blood in England spilt, and many a home made desolate. Indeed, in some parts of the country the people had literally no bread to eat, and no clothing to cover their nakedness; and Cromwell ordered collections to be made in London for the relief of the distressed people in Lancashire. Then the old clergyman was driven from his flock, and some commissioner appointed, who wrote in the register-books of the parish the names of the children who were born, but did not record their baptism as the clergyman did. And then some black-gowned Puritan, with his hair cut short, came and took possession of the living, and preached very long sermons about Cromwell "girding his sword upon his thigh," and about blinded Papists, and about Mahershalal-hash-baz who made haste to divide the spoil.

But in the glorious year 1660 every one began to throw up their caps and welcome right royally the King (Charles II.) from over the water; and the longfaced Puritan disappeared, and the writing in the register-books changed into that of a scholarly hand;

and many of our churches were enriched by thankofferings of plate and other gifts, because the good people of England rejoiced exceedingly that their loved Church and her services were restored to them; and "the King at last enjoyed his own again." The memory of the adventures of King Charles II., when he was endeavouring to escape from England after the last crushing defeat of the Royal troops at Worcester, called by Cromwell "the crowning mercy," still lingers in many of the country villages through which the unfortunate monarch passed. The King and a few faithful followers avoided the towns, passed the ford of the Salwarp at Hemford Mill, and proceeded by Chester Lane to Broadwaters and Kinfare Heath. Presently they reached Brewood Forest, where there stood two old hunting-lodges, built by the Giffards in troublous times as hiding-places for proscribed Papists. They were called White Ladies and Boscobel, and were inhabited by staunch Royalists named Penderel; so the King knew he would be safe there. He was disguised as a forester with leathern. jerkin and trunk hose, his long hair cropped, and his hands blackened. All day he lay concealed in a coppice, and in the evening, under the name of Will Jackson, he supped with the Penderels, and then tried to cross the Severn, but all the fords and bridges were guarded. The next day he and Colonel Carlos remained concealed in a large oak near Boscobel, and the memory of Royal Oak Day is still preserved, He

had other narrow escapes, and was saved by Mistress Jane Lane, the beautiful daughter of Colonel Lane. A pass had been obtained for her and her groom to go to Abbott's Leigh, near Bristol. The plan was arranged that the King should act as groom; so Charles mounted his horse, and Mistress Lane sat behind him on a pillion, and together they rode through Warwickshire to Bristol. The King was nearly captured at Long Marston, for some troopers of Cromwell suspected the party, and came to examine the house where they rested. The cook, however, set Charles to wind up the jack, and because he was awkward struck him with the basting-ladle just as the soldiers entered the kitchen. Their suspicions were thus removed; and in this old house the remains of the jack are still preserved. The poor King was disappointed of his ship; the skipper unfortunately told his wife that he was going to take the King to France, and she was angry, and locked him up in his room so that he could not fulfil his engagement. At last Lord Wilmot procured a ship for the fugitive King, who set sail joyfully from Shoreham, near Brighton, and reached Paris in safety. There must have been great excitement in the villages of England when the troopers were scouring the country in all directions, and the unfortunate King was known to be wandering about disguised as a servant.

If there are any hills or high ground in your neighbourhood commanding an extensive view of

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the country, it is probable that in olden days a beacon was placed there, so that the country might be aroused in case of an invasion. When the Spaniards determined to invade England in the reign of "good Queen Bess," and sent the Invincible Armada, consisting of an enormous number of ships and men and guns, bonfires were placed on every hill; and when a gallant merchant vessel brought the news that the Spaniards were coming, the bonfires were lighted, and every one prepared to resist their attack. Macaulay has told us in very stirring verse of how the news spread, as each fire was lighted,

"From Eddystone to Berwick bounds, from Lynn to Milford Bay;"

how Beachy Head caught the signal from St. Michael's Mount, and sent it swiftly over the country from tower to hill-top,

"Till Skiddaw saw the fire that burned on Gaunt's embattled pile,

And the red glare of Skiddaw roused the burghers of Carlisle."

Again, within the memory of the old inhabitants of your village, the hill beacons were brought into use when Napoleon I. threatened to invade England; and on January 31, 1803, by some mistake, the fire on Hume Castle, in Berwickshire, was lighted; other beacons responded, and ere morning dawned thousands were marching ankle-deep through the dense mud of the winter roads to their appointed stations. The mistake was not without its uses, as Napoleon

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