A Regular of Oxenforde. “Give me the book, and let me read;    My soul is strangely stirred—They are such words of love and truth    As ne’er before I heard!”                 Mary Howitt. The sun was shining brightly on the battlements and casements of Lovell Tower. The season was spring, and the year 1395. Within the house, though it was barely seven o’clock in the... more...

Chapter One. The Dwellers at Selwick Hall. “He would be on the mountain’s top, without the toil and travail of the climbing.”—Tupper. Selwick Hall, Lake Derwentwater, October ye first, Mdlxxix. It came about, as I have oft noted things to do, after a metely deal of talk, yet right suddenly in the end. Aunt Joyce, Milly, Edith, and I, were in the long gallery. We had been talking a while... more...

Preface. It is said that only travellers in the arid lands of the East really know the value of water. To them the Well in the Desert is a treasure and a blessing: unspeakably so, when the water is pure and sweet; yet even though it be salt and brackish, it may still save life. Was it less so, in a figurative sense, to the travellers through that great desert of the Middle Ages, wherein the wells were... more...

Castles in the Air. “O pale, pale face, so sweet and meek, Oriana!” Tennyson. “Is the linen all put away, Clarice?” “Ay, Dame.” “And the rosemary not forgotten?” “I have laid it in the linen, Dame.” “And thy day’s task of spinning is done?” “All done, Dame.” “Good. Then fetch thy sewing and come hither, and I will tell thee somewhat touching the lady whom thou art to... more...

Choosing a new gown. “Give you good den, Master Clere!” said a rosy-faced countrywoman with a basket on her arm, as she came into one of the largest clothier’s shops in Colchester. It was an odd way of saying “Good Evening,” but this was the way in which they said it in 1556. The rosy-faced woman set down her basket on the counter, and looked round the shop in the leisurely way of somebody... more...

We alight at Brocklebank Fells. “Sure, there is room within our hearts good store;For we can lodge transgressions by the score:Thousands of toys dwell there, yet out of door        We leave Thee.”                     George Herbert. “Girls!” said my Aunt Kezia, looking round at us, “I should just like to know what is to come of the whole four of you!” My Aunt... more...

Preface. More than three hundred years have rolled away since the events narrated in the following pages stirred the souls of men; since John Bradford sat down to his “merry supper with the Lord;” since Lawrence Saunders slept peacefully at the stake, lifted over the dark river in the arms of God; since Ridley and Latimer, on that autumn morning at Oxford, lighted that candle in England which they... more...

Preface. The story of the following pages is one of the least known yet saddest episodes in English history—the first persecution of Christians by Christians in this land. When Boniface went forth from England to evangelise Germany, he was received with welcome, and regarded as a saint: when Gerhardt came from Germany to restore the pure Gospel to England, he was cast out of the vineyard and slain.... more...

Jenny prepares to go a-journeying. “Jenny, my dear maid, thou wilt never fetch white meal out of a sack of sea-coal.” Jenny tossed her head. It would have been a nice little brown head, if it had not been quite so fond of tossing itself. But Jenny was just sixteen, and laboured under a delusion which besets young folks of that age—namely, that half the brains in the world had got into her head,... more...