together, or, throwing themselves down on the slopes facing the sea, had
talked over subjects of mutual interest. Walter's education was far in
advance of that of his companion, whose reading, indeed, had been
confined to the Scriptures, and the works of divines and
controversialists of his own church, and whose acquirements did not
extend beyond the most elementary subjects.

To him, everything that Walter knew was novel and strange; and he eagerly
devoured, after receiving permission from his mother, the books which
Walter lent him, principally histories, travels, and the works of Milton
and Shakespeare. As to the latter, Hannah had at first some scruples; and
it was only after setting herself, with great misgivings as to the
lawfulness of the act, to peruse the book, that she suffered her son to
read it. The volume only contained some ten of Shakespeare's plays; and
Hannah, on handing the book to her son, said:

"I do not pretend, John, to understand all that is written there, but I
cannot see that there is evil in it. There are assuredly many noble
thoughts, and much worldly wisdom. Did I think that your life would be
passed here, I should say that it were better for you not to read a book
which gives a picture of a life so different from what yours would be;
but none can say what your lot may be. And, although I have heard much
about the wickedness of the stage, I can see no line in this book which
could do harm to you. I do not see it can do you much good, John, but
neither do I see that it can do you any harm; therefore, if you have set
your mind on it, read it, my boy."

It was a stormy evening in the first week of November, 1688. The wind was
blowing in fierce gusts, making every door and casement quiver in
Davenant Castle, while, between the gusts, the sound of the deep roar of