CHAPTER THREE.
HOW I RODE POST-HASTE TO OXFORD.
The summer sun had not been up long before I too was out of bed.

Early as the hour was, my master and mistress were both astir, and bade me make a hearty meal in view of my journey.
While I ate, my master said: "As the tide runs now, Humphrey, you may make a good part of your journey by water, and 'twill do you no harm to be your own waterman." "Indeed no," said I; for I hated to sit idle in a boat.
"Should you reach Brentford on the flood, there are many who will ease you of your craft, and bring her back.

Meanwhile 'tis an easy road by the river's bank to Kingston.

We have a good friend there, one Master Udal, the minister, with whom this letter will procure you a welcome, and at his house you are to lie to-night.

He will lend you a horse and put you on the way to Oxford." "And see here, Humphrey," said my mistress, holding up a brave cloak of dark red cloth, as long as to my knee, "here is what will comfort you against the cold morning air, and change you into a veritable highwayman on the road." It was a brave cloak indeed, so weighty and well padded, that had my journey been not to Oxford, but to the Poles, it would not have been amiss.
"See you take care of it," continued my good mistress.
"It is your gift and your making," said I, "so I can readily promise that." "I can lend you a hat to match it," said my master, "and a sword." "I have a sword of my own," said I, proudly, for I had taken one from Mr Merriman's bully, a week ago.
"Well, well.