an be moved to the cowl by holy devotion, there is
nothing to be said on the subject; but if he take to the Church as a
calling, and wish to march ahead like his fellows, these times show him
a prettier path to distinction. The nobles begin to get the best things
for themselves; and a learned monk, if he is the son of a yeoman, cannot
hope, without a specialty of grace, to become abbot or bishop. The king,
whoever he be, must be so drained by his wars, that he has little land
or gold to bestow on his favourites; but his gentry turn an eye to
the temporalities of the Church, and the Church and the king wish to
strengthen themselves by the gentry. This is not all; there are
free opinions afloat. The House of Lancaster has lost ground, by its
persecutions and burnings. Men dare not openly resist, but they
treasure up recollections of a fried grandfather, or a roasted
cousin,--recollections which have done much damage to the Henries, and
will shake Holy Church itself one of these days. The Lollards lie hid,
but Lollardism will never die. There is a new class rising amain, where
a little learning goes a great way, if mixed with spirit and sense.
Thou likest broad pieces and a creditable name,--go to London and be
a trader. London begins to decide who shall wear the crown, and the
traders to decide what king London shall befriend. Wherefore, cut thy
trace from the cloister, and take thy road to the shop.' The next day
my uncle gave up the ghost.--They had better clary than this at the
convent, I must own; but every stone has its flaw."

"Yet," said Marmaduke, "if you took distaste to the cowl, from reasons
that I pretend not to judge of, but which seem to my poor head very bad
ones, seeing that the Church is as mighty as ever, and King Edward is
no friend to the Lollards, and that your uncle himself was at least a
sub-prior--"

"Had he been son to a baron, he had been a cardinal," interrupted
Nicholas, "for his head was the longest that ever came out of the north
country. But go on; you would say my father was a sturdy yeoman, and I
might have followed his calling?"

"You hit the mark, Master Nicholas."

"Hout, man. I crave pardon of your rank, Master Nevile. But a yeoman is
born a yeoman, and he dies a yeoman--I think it better to die Lord Mayor
of London; and so I craved my mother's blessing and leave, and a part
of the old hyde has been sold to pay for the first step to the red gown,
which I need not say must be that o