time of rushlights quite a luxurious extravagance. On the oak dining-table in the middle of the room were the parson's writing materials, his bunch of quills, round jar of ink, half a dozen rough sheets of paper, and a sand-box. And beside them was his pipe, just laid down.
Two strips of carpet laid on the stone floor; red window curtains; half a dozen solid oak chairs with tapestry seats, and a couple of ancient oak chests, completed the furniture of the room, which yet had a comfortable and homely aspect.
"What mean you by saying I impede his Majesty's troops in the execution of their duty?" repeated Parson Langney, standing in all the pugnacious dignity of the church militant, with his back to the fire, and his wig more on one side than ever.
"You was in a mighty hurry, sir, this morning, to get to Rede Hall before we could reach it with the warrants we hold for the arrest of certain plunderers of his Majesty's revenue," blurted out the brigadier, planting one hand on his hip, and thumping the table with the other as he spoke.
Parson Langney was no actor; the expres-
