"Ah, ah, here is the young cub," cried they as I entered; "here is the young fellow that was attending on his uncle!" Then, with more bad language than I choose to repeat, they bade me tell where I had carried him, unless I would see my mother roasted alive. "Out of your reach," said I, boldly; "so now let my mother go free," and springing towards her, I released her before they could throw themselves upon me. The next minute, we were rolling on the ground, but, as my mother for the moment was safe, I did not mind the blows I was getting, but returned them with a fire-iron that lay within reach. I dealt blows with such a will that for a time I had the advantage, never ceasing to shout, "Never fear, mother! All's safe! he's on the wide sea. Fly with the children and leave me to deal with these gentry." This so enraged them that they redoubled their violence; no wonder, then, that I was got down at last, bound hand and foot, and my feet made bare to receive the bastinado. Before they laid it on, they put the question to me: "Wilt thou now, then, recant thine accursed doctrines?" "What doctrines?" said I, to gain time. "Those that are falsely called reformed." "Oh yes, all that are falsely called reformed." They stood at pause on this, and looked at one another. "He gives in," muttered one. "Not a bit," replied another. "He is only lying." "Well but, mark you, that's no matter of ours," said the first. "I tell you it is!" roared the second, pushing him aside. "Let me take him in hand. You don't know how to question him." Then accosting me, in a defiant sort of way (he was far from sober), he said, "Hark ye, young man. Now answer for your life. Give us no double meanings. What is your religion?" "That which was brought us and taught us by our Lord Jesus Christ." "Do you believe in St. Peter?" "Of course." "And in the Virgin Mother of God?" "The angel Gabriel called her blessed among women." "But do you worship her?" "I reverence her, and worship her Divine Son." "Do you worship her, I say?" threatening me with the stirrup-leather. "Son, son," put in my father. "Silence, old man!" and they hit him on the mouth. "Do you worship her?" "I do not."