when he read it, he could not bear it. His soul abhorred it. “Better,” said he, “to be cut in pieces than surrender. Better for us to be destroyed while we are faithful, than to give up the keys of this royal city.” In his great distress he met a friend of his, called Prayer, and Prayer said to him, “Oh, captain, I can deliver this city.” Now, Prayer was not a soldier—at least, he did not look much like a warrior, for he wore the garments of a priest. In fact, he was the king’s chaplain, and was