wards, when you are on your
death-bed, he may happen to be passing; and if he _should_, you are
safe; for three knocks with his staff will make you hale, and he never
forgets any kindnesses. Many stories are current of his wonderful cures;
but there is one to be found in Peck's _History of Stamford_ which
possesses the rare merit of being written by the patient himself. Upon
Whitsunday, in the year of our Lord 1658, "about six of the clock, just
after evensong," one Samuel Wallis, of Stamford, who had been long
wasted with a lingering consumption, was sitting by the fire, reading in
that delectable book called _Abraham's Suit for Sodom_. He heard a knock
at the door; and, as his nurse was absent, he crawled to open it
himself. What he saw there, Samuel shall say in his own style:--"I
beheld a proper, tall, grave old man. Thus he said: 'Friend, I pray
thee, give an old pilgrim a cup of small beere!' And I said, 'Sir, I
pray you, come in and welcome.' And he said, 'I am no Sir, therefore
call me not Sir; but come in I must, for I cannot pass by thy doore.'"

After finishing the beer: "Friend," he said, "thou art not well." "I
said, 'No, truly Sir, I have not been well this many yeares.' He said,
'What is thy disease?' I said, 'A deep consumption, Sir; our doctors
say, past cure: for, truly, I am a very poor man, and not able to follow
doctors' councell.' 'Then,' said he, 'I will tell thee what thou shalt
do; and, by the help and power of Almighty God above, thou shalt be
well. To-morrow, when thou risest up, go into thy garden, and get there
two leaves of red sage, and one of bloodworte, and put them into a cup
of thy small beere. Drink as often as need require, and when the cup is
empty fill it again, and put in fresh leaves every fourth day, and thou
shalt see, through our Lord's great goodness and mercy, before twelve
dayes shall be past, thy disease shall be cured and thy body altered.'"

After this simple prescription, Wallis pressed him to eat: "But he said,
'No, friend, I will not eat; the Lord Jesus is sufficient for me. Very
seldom doe I drinke any beere neither, but that which comes from the
rocke. So, friend, the Lord God be with thee.'"

So saying, he departed, and was never more heard of; but the patient got
well within the given time, and for many a long day there was war hot
and fierce among the divines of Stamford, as to whether the stranger was
an angel or a devil. His dress has been minutely described b