struck in for a good cause, it will, I know, be different. Bear in mind
as you listen that it was your quarrel as well as our own in which we
fought, and that if now you grow up to be free men in a free land,
privileged to think or to pray as your consciences shall direct, you may
thank God that you are reaping the harvest which your fathers sowed in
blood and suffering when the Stuarts were on the throne.

I was born then in the year 1664, at Havant, which is a flourishing
village a few miles from Portsmouth off the main London road, and there
it was that I spent the greater part of my youth. It is now as it was
then, a pleasant, healthy spot, with a hundred or more brick cottages
scattered along in a single irregular street, each with its little
garden in front, and maybe a fruit tree or two at the back. In the
middle of the village stood the old church with the square tower, and
the great sun-dial like a wrinkle upon its grey weather-blotched
face. On the outskirts the Presbyterians had their chapel; but
when the Act of Uniformity was passed, their good minister, Master
Breckinridge, whose discourses had often crowded his rude benches while
the comfortable pews of the church were empty, was cast into gaol, and
his flock dispersed. As to the Independents, of whom my father was one,
they also were under the ban of the law, but they attended conventicle
at Emsworth, whither we would trudge, rain or shine, on every Sabbath
morning. These meetings were broken up more than once, but the
congregation was composed of such harmless folk, so well beloved and
respected by their neighbours, that the peace officers came after a
time to ignore them, and to let them worship in their own fashion.
There were Papists, too, amongst us, who were compelled to go as far as
Portsmouth for their Mass. Thus, you see, small as was our village, we
were a fair miniature of the whole country, for we had our sects and our
factions, which were all the more bitter for being confined in so narrow