mend matters by getting a fellowship at
Merton College;—did try, and missed. There
seems no doubt that he did not get fair play;
indeed, the predominant, the all-important
fact about the youth was now, we may say,
grown. He was known to "profess Puritan
sentiments." For, by this time, in all parts
of England, in colleges, inns of court, in polite
circles, in country towns, a certain number of
the young men began to be distinctly
noticeable for what was called "Puritanism."
What was it? Whence came it. Nobody
could tell exactly, though everybody had his
explanation somehow. One thing was clear,
they had a decided objection to anything
"Papistical," loved not the Rubric according
to the pedant Laud—were an earnest,
melancholy, high-aspiring set of men. Most people
could judge about the surface, and there was
great laughter at the movement from many
quarters, and much persecution, especially
from head-quarters. But still the movement
grew, and the young sucking Cavaliers—
brilliant boys with love-locks like the "little
rings of the vine " (to use an expression of
Jeremy Taylor's)—laughed on, and were
getting more angry. Blake, although not
"Fellow," became Master of Arts, remained
five years at Oxford, indeed, after missing the
fellowship. He had been at college nine years,
and was twenty-seven years old, when his
father was taken with his death-illness; and
he became head of the family, with a sadly
wrecked property to manage for the widow
and the children.

Blake was now a fully-developed man, and
taking up his residence at home at Bridgewater,
was soon a very noticeable man among
his townsmen. And the towns of England
wanted noticeable men, then. The Revolu-
tion was coming on. Organisations, on one
side or another, were forming themselves all
over the country. And surely there was no
more deep-hearted man than Blake, who, seeing
all this movement going on from his quiet
Bridgewater retreat, had quite made up his
mind to his duty. He was soon potent in
Somersetshire, in opposition to the now
infatuated Court. There is nothing more clearly
evident about Blake, be it said, than a fact
well known about others of his party; than a
natural earnest tranquillity! Anywhere he
would have stayed in peace; where a holy
peace was possible. But when the ear-clipping,
nose-slitting, &c., and other "cookery"
(as Swift would call it) was rampant, he
could only say with Oliver, "What are we to
expect?" All England was anxiously asking
the same question.

Blake sat in Parliament for Bridgewater in
the Short Parliament; sat in Parliament for
Taunton in the "Say Parliament," to which
he was elected in 1645. When the Revolution
fairly began, his troop was one of the first in
the field; and he fought in "almost every
action of importance in the western counties."
Dashing across the country with his dragoons,
his blow and his flash fell terribly together.
But there was always about Blake a reputation
distinct from his military one. People
early learned that he was a good,
highminded man, spotlessly beautiful in character;
who might be trusted by friends and enemies.
Fighting was not a task he was born for.
He had quiet habits of business which were
ready to go through all manner of
disagreeable duties, such as sequestrations of
delinquents' estates, and so on. Especially, one
sees him to be a man of excellent temper
and singularly modest, so that his genius,
displaying itself always, always came in a
shape so attractive, so homely, that you may
say that the royalty of his nature seemed
inclined to travel incog. He went about like
Thor on his travels, leaving great things done
if there were need of them, but superficially
noticeable only as a homely voyager.

Rupert of the Rhine came thundering
down to the West—a man of the fiery, dashing t
emperament needful to war; but his
was not the splendid sort of terror. He did
not gleam like lightning—rather volcanically,
and scattering mud and ashes. There was
something unholy about his apparitions; he
was a kind of "headless horseman," and
suggested thoughts of sulphur. When he
attacked Bristol, Captain Blake commanded
the fort called Prior's Hill, and kept it to the
last, an impregnable little spot, alive with
fire when enemies approached. Rupert had
an intention, so he said, of hanging Blake;
which to Blake, from Rupert, was a high
compliment. After Bristol had, in spite of
Blake, surrendered, Parliament gave him new
appointments. He was made lieutenant-colonel
to Popham's regiment, the finest
militia in the country. It was about this
time that his brother Samuel lost his life.
The daring young Samuel, hotly chasing two
Royalist ofiicers, came up with them at
Strenchill, and was killed. When the news
came to Bridgewater, the ofiicers hesitated to
tell their colonel; but of course the news had
to come out. "He had no business there,"
was the first sentence. And then Blake
retired to a room in the Swan inn, and poured
out his heart in such tears as we may fancy.
"Died Abuer as a fool dieth," he said, in the
grim Puritan language—"Died Abner as a
fool dieth!"

His next feat was the defence of Lyme
against Maurice; one of the most splendid
achievements of the war. The Cavaliers lost
two thousand men here, and were unable to
take the town. Blake was now made fuD
colonel, and had the highest reputation in the
west country. In the west country the king
had still a stronghold, when it occurred to
Blake that now was the time to take Taunton.
Taunton being a central place, and controlling
the great western highway; standing like an
island of Malta—a key of a place—which,
once in proper hands would be invaluable.
Down swooped Blake to the gates; offered