a man half clad, who turned about at every few yards, and, raising his
arm, predicted woe and desolation to the people he was leaving. He was
a Quaker preacher, and his presence in Preston was the occasion of
this disturbance.

"Oh, Preston," he cried, "as the waters run when the floodgates are
up, so doth the visitation of God's love pass away from thee, oh,
Preston!"

"Get along with thee; thou righteous Crister," said one of the crowd,
lifting a stick above his head. "Get along, or ye'll have Gervas
Bennett aback of ye again."

"I shall never cease to cry aloud against deceit and vanities,"
shrieked the preacher above the tumult. "You do profess a Sabbath, and
dress yourselves in fine apparel, and your women go with stretched
necks."

"Tush, tush! Beat him, stone him!"

"Surely the serpent will bite without enchantment," the preacher
replied, "and a babbler is no better. The lips of a fool will swallow
up himself."

The church bells were beginning to ring in the town, and the sound
came across the fields and was heard even above the mocking laughter
of the crowd.

"You have your steeple-houses, too," cried the preacher, "and the
bells of your gospel markets are even now a-ringing where your priests