had also the merry feasts of Christmas and Easter, Whitsuntide and Michaelmas. They went daily to church, were fond of the Prayer Book and oratory, but they had no objection to revels, masques, May-poles, and village games. These sudden transitions from what was grave to what was gay, and this mixing up of things sacred with things trifling, had a hurtful effect, and the religion thus fostered closely approached that of France and Italy. Hence the Puritans rushed to the extreme of putting down many manly sports, and discouraging national pastimes, which, purified from immorality, were adapted to promote national vigour, cheerfulness, and good fellowship. While, however, they abolished church festivals they appointed holidays of another kind, and had relaxations of their own, hereafter to be recounted. Yet the restraints they placed upon society in the day of their power were such, perhaps, as more than any thing else tended to alienate from them the sympathies of a large portion of their fellow-countrymen. The broken May-pole and deserted village green had no small share in bringing about some of the worst resentments of the Restoration. Blind homage is no honour. To acknowledge the defects of Puritanism gives all the more force to an exhibition of its excellencies. There clung around it the imperfections of humanity, but it had in it a germ of lasting life, a divine element of grace and power. [Illustration] CHAPTER I. We meet with statements, on the authority of Lord Clarendon, to the effect that the members of the Long Parliament "were almost to a man for episcopal government," and "had no mind to make any considerable alteration in Church or State."[72] On the other hand, we are told that at the beginning, "the party in favour of presbyterian government was very strong in the House of Commons, and that they were disposed to be contented with no less than the extirpation of bishops."[73] Neither statement conveys a correct idea of this remarkable assembly. [Sidenote: 1640, November.] Let us enter St. Stephen's chapel after the ceremony described in our Introduction, and see for ourselves. Dressed mostly in short cloaks, and wearing high-crowned hats, grave-looking men were seated on either side the speaker's chair, which was occupied by William Lenthall, a person of dignified aspect, arrayed in official robes, as represented by the picture in the National Portrait Gallery. Behind the chair were the Royal arms, and above it was the grand Gothic window, rendered familiar to us by old quaint woodcuts. The mace lay on the table by which the clerks of the House sat, busy with books and papers; and it may be stated, once for all, that the forms of the House were rigidly observed, during the memorable war of words through which this history will conduct the reader.