The drummer, however, it appears, was apprehended in consequence of these strange and mysterious occurrences. He was first, it seems, committed to Gloucester jail for stealing, where a Wiltshire man going to see him, the drummer enquired the news in Wiltshire: the reply was, none: No, returned he, do you not hear of the drumming at a gentleman’s house at Tedworth? That I do, said the other, enough: “I, quoth the drummer, I have plagued him (or something to that purpose) and he never shall be quiet until he has made me satisfaction for taking away my drum. Upon information made to this effect, the drummer was tried for a wizzard at Sarum, and all the main circumstances here related being sworn to at the assizes, by the minister of the parish, and several others of the most intelligent and substantial inhabitants, who had been eye and earwitnesses of them, from time to time, for many years past; the drummer was sentenced to transportation, and accordingly sent away; and as the story runs, ’tis said, that by raising storms, and terrifying the seamen, he contrived, some how or other, to get back again. And what is still as remarkable, is, that during his restraint and absence, Mr. Monpesson’s house remained undisturbed; but as soon as the demon of his quiet returned, he fell to his old tricks again as bad as ever.” The drummer had been a soldier under Cromwell, and used to talk much of “gallant books” which he had of an old fellow, who was counted a wizzard. On the authority of Mr. Glanvil, who had it from Mr. Monpesson, we have the following story.