“In faith, Simon, I can give you but little comfort,” said Gervase, half in amusement, half pitying his evident distress; “these are troublous times we are living in, and hard knocks are in fashion. You must even pluck up courage and show a stout heart in that buff coat of yours. You´ll come to like the smell of powder by and by, and instead of running you´ll go out to meet them as blithely as the boldest.” “What I have said I have spoken in confidence, Mr. Orme, and should you have speech with my wife on the matter, I know you will say a word in my favour. But I wish with all my heart we could see the end of our troubles. My trade is even ruined, and there is a list of debts for you that will never return me the value of a penny. Colonel Lundy himself owes me eight pounds sterling, which I do not think he will ever return to discharge.” “Indeed I do not think he will, and if that were all he owed us the city would be well quit of him. Are you on duty to-day, Simon?” “I must turn out at twelve o´clock on the Church bastion,” he answered gravely, “and I know not what devil´s work I may have to do before the day is over. But I will take what you have said to heart, sir, and hope for the time when I´ll have a taste for fighting.” “I´ll be there to see,” said Gervase, smiling, “and should it give you courage, I´ll even blow your brains out should you try to run away.” As Gervase passed up Bishop´s-gate street, he could not help laughing aloud at the look of consternation depicted on the face of his little landlord, who had been among the loudest and most eloquent advocates of resistance while the enemy were at a distance. The morning was bright and clear, with a warm breath of spring in the air that blew across the river. The streets were alive with men hurrying hither and thither; men who carried every imaginable description of musket and side-arms, and wore the most diverse kinds of defensive armour, but men who looked as if they had a work to do and meant to do it. Four companies of Parker´s regiment of foot he met on their way to the Bogside, and he was struck by their soldierly bearing and the precision and regularity of their march. From the Royal Bastion a great gun was firing slowly, in reply to the cannon of the enemy that spoke iron-lipped from Strong´s orchard on the other side of the river. But what struck him chiefly was that there were neither women nor children abroad; the city looked like a great barrack-yard under arms.