At the "Sign of the Golden Fleece"

by Emma Leslie

Early in the spring he had a visit from Rankin, who had heard the news of the changes going on at his old home. He had come to see whether Miles would not let him have the old holding which had descended from father to son for so many generations.

Miles said he should be glad enough for Rankin to come back when he could leave his present employment; and as soon as he could come, he would supply the materials for him to build a substantial farmhouse where the old mud-cottage had stood.

But to his disappointment Rankin could not see the need of putting up a dwelling which would cost so much more in time, labour, and material. The old tenement, if it did need frequent patching, was easily built, and he wanted to be back on the land and get to work there with as little delay as possible; and he brought forward the same argument that the others did,—what was good enough for his father and mother was good enough for him.

But after some talk a compromise was effected in the matter, and he agreed to carry out his landlord's wishes.

It was not encouraging to have these contests with his tenants, over matters that were so clearly for their own benefit, and Miles wondered how it would be in the matter of religion by-and-bye.

Here the bulk of the people on his own property were stupidly holding to customs that were hurtful to themselves, and refusing to adopt better because they were new. Would it be the same when the New Testament was printed and scattered broadcast through the land? Or would they hold to the new light and learning when once it was given to them, as the Commons held by their rights when his master would have infringed them that May-day at Westminster?

The memory of that scene was deeply engraven upon the memory of Miles, and he reflected that after all, the decision concerning this rested in the hands of the people of the country, rather than with the King and Cardinal, however powerful they might be.

Of course there were a few like his friend Monmouth, and other merchants of London, who would hold as fast by what they learned from Master Tyndale and Master Garrett of Honey Lane; but if the Church declared that this teaching was heresy, and contrary to that of the Church, he feared there would be a sorry time in store for a few at least of those who embraced the new doctrines, unless the people, as a whole, could be brought to embrace them.

He had thought at one time that no sensible man could fail to do this, when once they were made clear to him; but his winter's experience had somewhat shaken his faith in his speedy conversion of even the thinking part of the community, and he saw that they would have to be very cautious how they distributed the New Testament, even when it was printed.

He tried to hope that his former master, the Cardinal, would institute such a reform of the Church, that there would be no need to do as the German monk Luther had done—separate from the Church, and denounce it. He shuddered at the thought of doing this, for he and Cicely could go to the Monastery Chapel now, and take part in the service truly and devoutly, but what it might be later on he dared not think. He shivered at the reflection of what a storm might burst, when the prejudices of some, and the vested interests of others, taken in conjunction with the hostility of the Church, were all brought into conflict with this new light that God had given for the advancement of the world, and the establishment of His kingdom.