But of the many beautiful histories in which Fox abounds, none is more beautiful than that of Rowland Taylor, rector of Hadley. Though a mere country parson, (for he had quitted the household of Cranmer, to whom he was chaplain; in order to reside upon his benefice,)--possessed, however, of a high spirit and popular talents--he seems to have taken a lead in his own country; and following in the wake of Bilney, who had preached in the same quarters, contributed to render Suffolk what we have already described it--the soil in which the Reformation took the kindliest root. The collateral effect of his influence and example may be thought, perhaps, to be discovered in a circumstance which comes out quite incidentally in the annals of that period; that one Dr. Drakes, who was afterwards burnt at Smithfield, and one Yeomans at Norwich, had both, we find, been connected with Rowland Taylor; the former having been made deacon through his means,[444] the latter having been his curate at Hadley.[445] We will not enter into all the details of this thrice-told tale of sorrow--his pastoral faithfulness--his successful teaching, so that his parish was remarkable for its knowledge of the Word of God--his efforts to introduce to each other rich and poor, by taking with him in his visits to the latter some of the more wealthy cloth-makers, that they might become acquainted with their neighbours’ wants, and thus be led to minister to their relief--his bold defiance of the Catholic priest whom he found in possession of his church, surrounded by armed men, and saying mass--his reply to John Hull, the old servant who accompanied him to London when he was summoned there before Gardiner, and who would fain have persuaded him to fly--his frank and fearless carriage before his judges--his mirth at the ludicrous apprehensions he inspired into Bonner’s chaplain, who cautioned the bishop, when performing the ceremony of his degradation, not to strike him on the breast with his crosier staff, seeing that he would sure strike again--his charge to his little boy, when he supped with him in prison before his removal to Hadley, not to forsake his mother when she waxed old, but to see that she lacked nothing; for which God would bless him, and give him long life on earth and prosperity--his coming forth by night to set out upon his last journey; his wife, daughter, and an orphan foster-child watching all night in St. Botolph’s church-porch, to catch a sight of him as he passed--their cries when they heard his company approach, it being very dark; his touching farewell to them, and his wife’s promise to meet him again at Hadley--his taking his boy before him on the horse on which he rode, John Hull lifting him up in his arms--his blessing the child; and delivering him again to John Hull, saying, “Farewell! John Hull, the faithfullest servant that man ever had;”--the pleasantries, partaking, indeed, of the homely simplicity of the times, with which