to the same correspondent written just before his embarkation: "My daily prayer is for the sore afflicted in those quarters. Some time I have thought that it had been impossible so to have removed my affection from Scotland that any realm or nation could have been equally dear unto me; but I take God to record in my conscience that the troubles present and appearing to be in the realm of England are doubly more dolorous unto my heart than ever were the troubles of Scotland." Thus Knox parted from the realm of England. Had he remained much longer in it, he would most probably have shared the fate of Cranmer, Ridley, Latimer, and the "noble army," whom Mary's intolerance "chased up to heaven." But God had other work for him to do, and it was well for Scotland that he listened to the entreaty of those who counselled him when he was "persecuted in one country" to "flee to another"; so it came about that for a brief season he found refuge in that land wherein only a few years before he had been a galley-slave. [1] "Works," vol. iii. pp. 308-9. {71} CHAPTER VI. FIRST DAYS OF EXILE, 1554. From England Knox went to Dieppe, where he sojourned at this time for a month, and finished his exposition of the sixth Psalm, the first instalment of which he had sent to Mrs. Bowes just before leaving the shores of Britain. This production was primarily designed for the consolation and encouragement of that lady, who, as we have already hinted, seems to have been afflicted with religious melancholy. Apparently she was one of those, of whom every pastor has had some experience, who believe that God has cast them off, and who while "fearing the Lord," yet "walk in darkness and have no light." Her life was one constant wrestle with spiritual depression, by which her intimate friends were afflicted almost as much as she was herself. Knox dealt with her most tenderly, and under the influence of his wise words she regained her comfort for a time, but after a little she was in the depths again, and the whole process had to be gone over with her anew. Had she lived in modern days, a prudent friend would have counselled her to consult a skilful physician, {72} and would have sought to combine medical treatment with religious advice. We cannot wonder, however, that we have nothing in this tractate bearing on that aspect of the matter. The writer deals throughout with the malady as spiritual, but he treats it most wisely, and the great well of tenderness in his heart reveals itself to the reader in such a passage as the following:[1] "These things put I you in mind of, beloved mother, that albeit your pains sometimes be so horrible that no release nor comfort ye find neither in spirit nor yet in body, yet if the heart can only _sob unto_ God, despair not, you shall obtain your heart's desire, and destitute you are not of faith. For at such time as the flesh, natural reason, the law of God, the present torment, and the