In the spring of 1517--the year in which Luther posted up his _theses_--a priest, whose manners announced a man swollen with pride, happened to be on board the passage-boat from London to Gravesend with an intelligent and pious Christian of Ashford, by name John Brown. The passengers, as they floated down the stream, were amusing themselves by watching the banks glide away from them, when the priest, turning towards Brown, said to him insolently: "You are too near me, get farther off. Do you know who I am?"--"No, sir," answered Brown.--"Well, then, you must know that I am a priest."--"Indeed, sir; are you a parson, or vicar, or a lady's chaplain?"--"No; I am a _soul-priest_," he haughtily replied; "I sing mass to save souls."--"Do you, sir," rejoined Brown somewhat ironically, "that is well done; and can you tell me where you find the soul when you begin the mass?"--"I cannot," said the priest.--"And where you leave it when the mass is ended?"--"I do not know."--"What!" continued Brown with marks of astonishment, "you do not know where you find the soul or where you leave it ... and yet you say that you save it!"--"Go thy ways," said the priest angrily, "thou art a heretic, and I will be even with thee." Thenceforward the priest and his neighbour conversed no more together. At last they reached Gravesend, and the boat anchored. As soon as the priest had landed, he hastened to two of his friends, Walter and William More, and all three mounting their horses, set off for Canterbury, and denounced Brown to the archbishop. [Sidenote: BROWN PUT TO THE TORTURE.] In the meantime John Brown had reached home. Three days later, his wife, Elizabeth, who had just left her chamber, went to church, dressed all in white, to return thanks to God for delivering her in the perils of childbirth. Her husband, assisted by her daughter Alice and the maid-servant, were preparing for their friends the feast usual on such occasions, and they had all of them taken their seats at table, joy beaming on every face, when the street-door was abruptly opened, and Chilton, the constable, a cruel and savage man, accompanied by several of the archbishop's apparitors, seized upon the worthy townsman. All sprang from their seats in alarm; Elizabeth and Alice uttered the most heart-rending cries; but the primate's officers, without showing any emotion, pulled Brown out of the house, and placed him on horseback, tying his feet under the animal's belly.[262] It is a serious matter to jest with a priest. The cavalcade rode off quickly, and Brown was thrown into prison, and there left forty days. [262] Foxe, Acts, ii, p. 7. His feet bound under his own horse.