CHAPTER FIVE.
Wenlock Christison and his son proceeded up Cornhill a short time afterthe events which have been described. They were examining the varioussigns over the shop doors, in search of that which distinguished MasterMead's abode.
"Ah! there it is," said Wenlock; "that must be the `Spinning Wheel' hetold us of."
A demure youth with well-brushed hair was standing at the door, incourteous language inviting passers-by to enter and inspect his master'sgoods.
"Is this Master Mead's abode, young man?" inquired Captain Christison.
"Verily, friend, it is," answered the shopman. "If thou wilt enter,thou wilt find thy money's worth for any goods thou mayst purchase.Master Mead bringeth good judgment to bear on his purchases, and buysonly such goods as those in which he has confidence. Enter, friend;enter, I pray thee."
"Thank you," said Christison; "but I wish to see Master Mead himself."
"If thou wilt enter through this door, thou wilt find him in the upperstory with his family," answered the shopman, leading the way; andChristison and Wenlock proceeded upstairs.
Master Mead cordially welcomed his old friend, introducing him to acomely matron whom he spoke of as his wife Martha. "And here is mydaughter Mary," he added, pointing to a remarkably pretty andfair-haired girl, who smiled sweetly, and held out her hand to herfather's guests. She might have been two or three years younger thanWenlock, though, being well grown, there seemed but little difference intheir ages. While their elders were talking, the young people, after afew desultory remarks, found themselves drawn into conversation.
"I hear from my father that thou hast been a great traveller already,"said Mary Mead.
"Yes, indeed," answered Wenlock. "I scarcely remember ever remainingmore than two or three months in one place. When my mother died, myfather left our home in New England, ever after seeking for some spotwhere he might settle, but finding none, till at length he determined togo back to the old country."
"You can have had but little time for obtaining instruction then?" saidMary, "I thought boys were always sent to school."
"I picked up what I could out of what my father calls the `big book oflife,'" answered Wenlock. "He also gave me such instructions as timeand opportunity would allow, though there are many more things I shouldlike to learn. I have, however, read not a few books; I can handle asinglestick as well as many older men, can ride, row, and shoot witharquebuse or crossbow, and I can write letters on various subjects, as Iwill prove to you, Mistress Mary, if you will allow me, when I againbegin my wanderings; for I doubt whether my father will long remain inthis big city. He is constantly complaining that the times are out ofjoint; and although we have been in England but a few weeks, hethreatens again speedily to leave it."
"That were a pity," said Mary. "I prefer the green fields, and thewoods, and the gay flowers, and the songs of birds, to the narrowstreets, the dingy houses, and the cries of London; but yet I opine thathappiness comes from within, and that, if the heart is at rest,contentment may be found under all circumstances."
"You are a philosopher," said Wenlock.
"No," answered Mary quietly, "I am a Quakeress, an you please: and ourprinciples afford us that peace and contentment which they of the worldknow not of."
"I must get you to teach me to be a Quaker, then," said Wenlock. "Ihave been listening attentively to your father's discourses to mine, andeven he, who was so much opposed to such ideas, has greatly beenattracted by them; and, to tell you the truth, Mistress Mead, I havemade up my mind that they are the best that I have heard of. There maybe better, but I know not of them."
"Oh, no, no. There can be no better than such as are to be found in theBook of Life," said Mary. "You must judge of our principles by that,and that alone. If they are not according to that, they are wrong; butif they are according to that, there can be none better."
Wenlock, as he talked to the fair young Quakeress, felt himself everymoment becoming more and more a convert to her opinions; and had not hisfather been present, he would then and there have undoubtedly confessedhimself a Quaker.
The young people had found their way, somehow or other, to the bowwindow at the further end of the room, their elders, meantime, carryingon a conversation by themselves, not altogether of a differentcharacter. Mead, aided by his wife, was explaining to Christison, morefully than he had hitherto done, the Quaker doctrines. Could he, a manof the sword, however, acknowledge fighting to be wrong, and henceforthand for ever lay aside the weapons he had handled all his life?
"But surely, friend, if thou dost acknowledge that man is formed inGod's image, it must be obvious to thee that to deface His image must becontrary to His law and will. The world is large, and God intends it tobe peopled; whereas, by wars, the population ceases to increase, andthat happy time when hymns of praise shall ascend from all quarters ofthe globe is postponed."
Mistress Mead occasionally made some telling remark to the same effect.
"Well, friend Mead, I have listened to all you have advanced," saidChristison at length, "and I cannot, as an honest man, fail toacknowledge that you are in the main right. When next I come, I willhear what further arguments you have to adduce; but the truth is, when Idetermined to return to England, it was with the purpose of takingservice in the English army, or in that of some foreign ProtestantState, in which I hoped also to obtain employment for my son; whereas,if I turn Quaker, I must, I see, from what you tell me, give up all suchideas, and then how to obtain employment for him or myself I know not.I have no wish to be idle, and as `a rolling stone gains no moss,' Ihave laid by but little of this world's wealth for a rainy day, or formy old age."
"Verily, thou must indeed give up all ideas of fighting andblood-shedding," answered Mead. "Yet I see not that thou needst starve.There is no lack of honest employments, if a man will but seek them.`Thou canst not serve two masters.' Our God is a God of peace. Thedevil is the god of war; and devilish work is fighting, as I can answerfrom experience, and so canst thou, old comrade."
Christison sighed. "Well, well, friend," he said, "I feel you areright, and I will think over the matter. And now it is time that Ishould bid thee farewell. I have a visit to pay to a friend who livessome way on the other side of Temple Bar, and it will be late before wecan get back to our lodgings."
Mead did not attempt to detain his friend. The young people startedwhen Wenlock was summoned. They were sorry the visit had so soon cometo an end.
"We shall see you again," said Mary, frankly putting out her hand, "andthen I will speak to you more of these matters."
Wenlock of course promised that he would very soon come again.Christison and his son took their way along Cheapside, past old SaintPaul's, and proceeded down Ludgate Hill.
"You seemed pleased with young Mistress Mead, Wenlock," said his father.
"Indeed I was," answered Wenlock. "Though so quiet in manner, she hasplenty to say. I never felt more inclined to talk in my life. I havepromised to pay another visit as soon as I can, and when we go away, towrite to her and give her an account of our adventures."
"You seem to have made progress in her good graces, Wenlock," said hisfather; and as he was a man of the world, it might possibly haveoccurred to him that when his son should desire a helpmate, fairMistress Mary might prove a very suitable person. That perfectconfidence existed between father and son which induced Wenlock to speakhis mind on all occasions and on all subjects. They at length reachedtheir destination, and the old soldier found his friend LawrenceHargrave at home. In their conversation, which was chiefly on matterspolitical, Wenlock took but little interest, his thoughts indeed beingjust then occupied chiefly by Mary Mead. He was glad, therefore, whenhis father announced his intention of returning home. They walked onrapidly, for the night was cold. It was dark also, for the sky wasovercast. As they were going along Fleet Street, they heard the soundof horses' hoofs approaching at a somewhat rapid rate. They drew on oneside, when a faint cry of "Help! help!
" reached their ears.
"Come on, Wenlock," shouted the captain, rushing on. Directly beforethem they saw the outlines of two horses and several persons apparentlystruggling on the ground. The sounds of "Help! help!" again reachedtheir ears.
"Here is help to whoever is in the right," cried Christison, drawing hissword.
"I am in the right; the others wish to kill me," said the same voice.
"No, no; he is a prisoner escaping from justice," growled a man in arough voice.
"It is false! Help! I am the Duke--"
At that moment, a blow was heard, and the speaker was felled to theground.
"I take the weakest side," cried Christison, attacking the other men,who now, drawing their swords, attempted to defend themselves. The oldofficer, a dextrous swordsman, disarmed the first, sending his weaponflying to the other side of the street. The next he attacked, givinghim a severe wound on the arm. Young Wenlock, who, according to thefashion of the times, also wore a sword, joined in the fray, and made sofurious an onset on the third fellow, who was at that moment about torun his weapon into the body of the prostrate man, that he compelled himto draw back. Placing himself across the body, he kept the fellow atbay, till another wound which his father bestowed on his antagonist madehim retreat; when, the sound of carriage-wheels being heard in thedistance, the three fellows, leaping on their horses, took to flight,leaving Christison and Wenlock masters of the field; the fallen man,only slightly stunned, had been slowly recovering; and when Christisonstooped down to help him up, he was able, without much difficulty, torise to his feet.
"Thanks, my friends, whoever you are," he said. "I observed the braveway in which you attacked my dastardly assailants; and I observed alsothe gallant manner in which this young gentleman defended me, when oneof them would have run me through the body. To him I feel, indeed, thatI am indebted for my life."
A True Hero: A Story of the Days of William Penn Page 5