extracted from him, and he was allowed to return.--Boscobel, 55. This, I
suspect, to be the true story; but Charles himself, when he mentions the
proposal made to Humphrey attributes it to a man, at whose house he had
changed his clothes.--Account from the Pepys MS. p. 9.]

[Sidenote a: A.D. 1651. Sept. 5.]
[Sidenote b: A.D. 1651. Sept. 6.]

celebrated tree, which was afterwards destroyed to satisfy the veneration
of the Cavaliers, grew near to the common path in a meadow-field, which lay
in the centre of the wood. It had been partially lopped a few years before,
and the new shoots had thrown round it a thick and luxuriant foliage.
Within this cover the king and his companion passed the day. Invisible
themselves, they occasionally caught a glimpse of the red-coats (so the
soldiers were called) passing among the trees, and sometimes saw them
looking into the meadow. Their friends, William Penderell and his wife,
whom Charles called my dame Joan, stationed themselves near, to give
warning of danger; he pretending to be employed in his duty as woodward,
and she in the labour of gathering sticks for fuel. But there arose no
cause of immediate alarm; the darkness of the night relieved them from
their tedious and irksome confinement; and Charles, having on his return to
the house examined the hiding-place, resolved to trust to it for his future
security.[1]

The next day, Sunday,[a] he spent within doors or in the garden. But his
thoughts brooded over his forlorn and desperate condition; and the gloom
on his countenance betrayed the uneasiness of his mind. Fortunately in the
afternoon he received by John Penderell a welcome message from Lord Wilmot,
to meet him that night at the house of Mr. Whitgrave, a recusant, at
Moseley. The king's feet were so swollen and blistered by his recent walk