ery image of death, wondered at of all
that did behold me, unknown to any. My wife and neighbours were toto
[too-too, an archaism for _very_] sorry that I would needs go forth,
thinking I would not return alive. Then went I forth, having of either
side of me a man to stay me... When the Queen passed by, ... many of my
fellows the Pensioners and divers of the Council beheld me, and none of
them all knew me." [Note 3.]

"Why, Ned!" cried John, "are you able to sit thus on an horse and mix in
crowds?"

"No," said he.

"Then," he answered, "what brought you hither?"

"Marry, mine own obstinate resolvedness," said Mr Underhill, laughing
feebly, "that neither my Jane, nor Jack Speryn, nor Ive, could combat."

John rode with his friend to the Limehurst, and saw him safe home, to
the great relief of Mrs Underhill, who declared that she had not had a
minute's rest since he set out, expecting every hour to receive some
terrible news concerning him.

Sunday, the 1st of October, was fixed for the coronation. That ceremony
was almost invariably on the Lord's Day. There was no service in the
Cathedral; for none but unmarried Bishops or priests would the Queen
permit to officiate before her; and there were very few of the first.
Order was also issued that no married priest should minister again in
any of the churches.

The Gospellers were reduced to stratagem. Since the churches were
closed to them, they opened their own houses. By arrangement with Mr
Rose, service was held in the Lamb on the evening of the Coronation Day,
safety being secured by a preconcerted signal-tap. About forty persons
gathered, exclusive of the families of the host and the minister. A
small congregation; but a congregation of live souls, who were ready to
yield life sooner than faith. The majority of congregations are hardly
made of that material now. "If all the real Christians were gathered
out of this church," once said William Romaine to his flock, "there
would not be enough to fill the vestry." How frightfully uncharitable!
cries the nineteenth century--and I dare say the flock at Saint Anne's
thought so too. But there is a _charity_ towards men's souls, and there
is a charity towards men's feelings. If one of the two must be
dispensed with, we shall wish in the great day of account that it had
been the latter. The two "keeping-rooms" of the Lamb--which they called
the great and little chambers, but which we, their degenerate
desc