De Bostaquet, the French Huguenot, accustomed to the extreme and rigid simplicity of Protestant worship in his own country, was scandalized at what he witnessed at Exeter. He regarded the English service as retaining nearly all the externals of Popery--for such he counted the altar, and the great candles on each side, and the basin of silver-gilt between, and the Canons, in surplices and stoles, ranged in stalls on each side the nave, and the choir of little boys singing with charming voices. He was touched somewhat with the beauty of the music, but the sturdy and ultra-Reformer declared it was all opposed to the simplicity of the French reformed religion, and he confessed he was by no means edified with it.[50] Burnet delivered a sermon on the following Sunday; and on the same day, Robert Ferguson, being refused by the Presbyterians the keys of the meeting-house in St. James Street, exclaimed, “I will take the kingdom of heaven by violence!” and calling for a hammer, broke open the door. Sword in hand he mounted the pulpit, and preached against the Papists from the 16th verse of the 94th Psalm: “Who will rise up for me against the evil doers?”[51] [Sidenote: THE CRISIS.] At first the Prince’s affairs wore an unfavourable appearance--people of influence did not join him; but before long the tide turned, “and every man mistaking his neighbour’s courage for his own, all rushed to the camp or to the stations which had been assigned them, with a violence proportioned to their late fears.”[52] A hearty welcome awaited His Highness in many places through which he marched, the Dissenters in particular hailing his approach. One of them, a country gentleman, living at Coaxden Hall, rich in rookeries, between Axminster and Chard, had tables spread with provisions under an avenue of trees leading up to the house. The gentleman was Richard Cogan, whose wife Elizabeth, before her marriage, concealed him under a feather-bed, after the Monmouth rebellion, and so saved his life and won his affections. His mother had been a Royalist; and amongst many stories told of Charles’s adventures after his defeat at Worcester, it is related that this lady covered him with the skirts of her enormously-hooped petticoats.[53] The clergy of Dorset found themselves in an awkward position after William had triumphantly passed through the country. They had received an order of Council, sent by the Bishop, prescribing prayers for the Prince of Wales and the Royal family. But now, although some persevered in using the prayers, others laid them aside. There still exists a letter to the Archbishop of Canterbury from the incumbent of Wimborne, asking what he should do under the circumstances.[54] [Sidenote: 1688.]