Note 25 — Chapter VI
Reading edition
“They raved,” says Peden’s historian, “like fleshly devils, when the mist shrouded from their pursuit the wandering Whigs. One gentleman closed a declaration of vengeance against the conventicles with this strange imprecation, ‘or may the devil make my ribs a gridiron to my soul.’”—MS. Account of the Presbytery of Penpont. Our armies swore terribly in Flanders, but nothing of this.