ifferent man. To take the lives of his fellowmen, to shed their blood
for whom that Blood had been shed, was henceforth for him impossible.
He unbuckled his sword, and resigning his captaincy in Oliver's
conquering army, just when victory was at hand after the stern
struggle, he followed his despised Quaker teacher into obscurity.

For seven long years we hear nothing more of him. Then he appears
again at George Fox's side, no longer Captain Stoddart the Officer,
but plain Amor Stoddart, a comrade and helper of the first Publishers
of Truth.

In the year 1655, Fox's Journal records: 'On the sixth day I had a
large meeting near Colchester[33] to which many professors and the
Independent teachers came. After I had done speaking and was stepped
down from the place on which I stood, one of the Independent teachers
began to make a "jangling" [it seems they still went on jangling, even
after seven long years!], which Amor Stoddart perceiving said, "Stand
up again, George!" for I was going away and did not at the first hear
them.'

If Amor Stoddart had unbuckled his sword, evidently he had not lost
the power of grappling with difficulties, of swiftly seeing the right
thing to do, and of giving his orders with soldier-like precision.

'Stand up again, George!'--a quick, military command, in the fewest
possible words. George Fox was more in the habit of commanding other
people than of being commanded himself; but he knew his comrade and
obeyed without a word.

'I stood up again,' he says, 'when I heard the Independent [the man
who had been jangling], and after a while the Lord's power came over
him and all his company, who were confounded, and the Lord's truth was
over all. A great flock of sheep hath the Lord in that country that
feed in His pastures of life.'

Nevertheless, without Amor Stoddart the sheep would have gone away
hungry, and would not have been fed at that meeting.

Again we hear of Amor a little later in the same year, still at George
Fox's side, but this time not as a passive spectator, nor even merely
as a resourceful comrade. He was now himself to be a sufferer for the
Truth. He still lives for us through his share in a strange but
wonderful scene of George Fox's life. A few months after the meeting
at Colchester, the two friends visited Cambridge, and 'there,' says
Fox in his Journal, 'the scholars, hearing of me, were up and were
exceeding rude. I kept on my horse's back and rode through them in the