To the generosity of my friend, Miss Burnham, the lady of Plowland, my readers owe the view of the present Plowland House, which forms the Frontispiece to this Book. The old Hall occupied the site of the present dwelling, and faced the river Humber towards the south. The gabled buildings in the rear are ancient, and behind them are a few mossy Gothic stones, evidently belonging to the old chapel. Behind the ancient buildings is a willow-fringed remnant of the old moat. George Burnham, Esq., brother to Miss Burnham, is the owner of this historic spot. Edward Wright Burnham, Esq., of Skeffling, Holderness, is their brother. The names _Edward Wright_ suggest descent from Edward Wright, the son of Christopher Wright, the revealing conspirator.] Early in the morning of Friday some of the company went out to descry whether or not reinforcements were in sight. Others began to prepare their shot and powder. Catesby, Rookwood, and Grant were severely burnt in the face, especially the two latter, with some damp or dank gunpowder which they were drying on a platter before the kitchen fire, and into which a hot cinder fell. This incident seems to have thoroughly unnerved Catesby and all his wicked confederates. They saw in the fact a stroke of poetic justice——nay, the flaming, avenging sword of Heaven. Thomas Winter was told by Catesby and the rest, in reply to his question, “We mean here to die.” Winter thereupon replied, “I will take such part as you do.” “Then they all fell earnestly to their prayers,” says Gerard, “the litanies and such like.” They also “spent an hour in meditation.” About eleven o’clock in the forenoon of that black Friday, November the 8th, 1605, the High Sheriff of Worcestershire arrived with the whole power and force of the county, and beset the house. Thomas Winter, going into the court-yard, was shot in the shoulder with an arrow from a cross-bow, and lost the use of his right arm. John Wright was shot dead. Christopher Wright was mortally wounded. Ambrose Rookwood was wounded in four or five places. John Grant was likewise disabled. Catesby and Thomas Percy, each sword in hand, and “standing before the door” close together, were mortally wounded by two successive shots fired by one musketeer, who afterwards boasted of his resolute carriage of himself on that eventful day.[A] [Footnote A: The man’s name was John Streete. He received a pension of two shillings a day for life, equal to about sixteen shillings a day in our money. Gerard’s “_What was the Gunpowder Plot?_” p. 155.]