rned away with a sickness and a
bitter flood of tears--for a whiter and a nobler neck never fell
before low beast--I strode away towards Westminster, cured of half my
indignation at the death of Charles the First. Many people hurried past
me, chiefly of the more tender sort, revolting at the butchery. In their
ghastly faces, as they turned them back, lest the sight should be coming
after them, great sorrow was to be seen, and horror, and pity, and some
anger.

In Westminster Hall I found nobody; not even the crowd of crawling
varlets, who used to be craving evermore for employment or for payment.
I knocked at three doors, one after other, of lobbies going out of it,
where I had formerly seen some officers and people pressing in and out,
but for my trouble I took nothing, except some thumps from echo. And at
last an old man told me that all the lawyers were gone to see the result
of their own works, in the fields of Lincoln's Inn.

However, in a few days' time, I had better fortune; for the court was
sitting and full of business, to clear off the arrears of work, before
the lawyers' holiday. As I was waiting in the hall for a good occasion,
a man with horsehair on his head, and a long blue bag in his left hand,
touched me gently on the arm, and led me into a quiet place. I followed
him very gladly, being confident that he came to me with a message from
the Justiciaries. But after taking pains to be sure that none could
overhear us, he turned on me suddenly, and asked,--

'Now, John, how is your dear mother?'

'Worshipful sir' I answered him, after recovering from my surprise at
his knowledge of our affairs, and kindly interest in them, 'it is two
months now since I have seen her. Would to God that I only knew how she
is faring now, and how the business of the farm goes!'

'Sir, I respect and admire you,' the old gentleman replied, with a
bow very low and genteel; 'few young court-gallants of our time are so
reverent and dutiful. Oh, how I did love my mother!' Here he turned up
his eyes to heaven, in a manner that made me feel for him and yet with a
kind of wonder.

'I am very sorry for you, sir,' I answered most respectfully, not
meaning to trespass on his grief, yet wondering at his mother's age; for
he seemed to be at least threescore; 'but I am no court-gallant, sir; I
am only a farmer's son, and learning how to farm a little.'

'Enough, John; quite enough,' he cried, 'I can read it in thy
countenance. Honesty