but going and coming I was railed at by a Quaker in the market-place in the way, and frequently in the congregation bawled at by the names of Hireling, Deceiver, False Prophet, Dog, and such like language.”  The Protector’s own chapel in Whitehall was not safe.  On April 13, 1656, “being the Lord’s day,” says the Public Intelligencer for that week, “a certain Quaker came into the chapel in sermon time, and in a very audacious manner disturbed the preacher, so that he was fain to be silent a while, till the fellow was taken away.  His Highness, being present, did after sermon give order for the sending him to a justice of peace, to be dealt with according to law.”—­Naturally, the whole sect suffered for these indecencies and extravagances of some of its members, and the very name Quakerism became a synonym for all that was intolerable.  The belief had got abroad, moreover, that “subtle and dangerous heads,” Jesuits and others, had begun to “creep in among them,” to turn Quakerism to political account, and “drive on designs of disturbance.”  Altogether the Protector and Council were sorely tried.  Their policy seems, on the whole, to have been to let Quakerism run its course of public obloquy, and get into jail, or even to the whipping-post ad libitum, for offences against the peace, but at the same time to instruct the Major-Generals privately to be as discreet as possible, making differences between the sorts of Quakers, and especially letting none of them come to harm for their mere beliefs.  “Making a difference,” as by the injunction in Jude’s epistle, was, as we know, Cromwell’s own great rule in all cases where complete toleration was impossible, and he does not seem to have been able to do more for the Quakers.  He had not, however, forgotten his interview with their chief, and may have been interested in knowing more especially what had become of him.—­Fox, after much wandering in the West without serious mishap, had fallen among Philistines in Cornwall early in 1656, and had been arrested, with two companions, for spreading papers and for general vagrancy and contumacy.  He had been in Launceston prison for some weeks, when Chief Justice Glynne came to hold the assizes in those parts.  There had been the usual encounter between the Judge and the Quakers on the eternal question of the hats.  “Where had they hats at all, from Moses to Daniel?” said the Chief Justice, rather rashly, meaning to laugh at the notion that Scripture could be brought to bear on the question in any way whatever.  “Thou mayest read in the third of Daniel,” said Fox, “that the three children were cast into the fiery furnace, by Nebuchadnezzar’s command, with their coats, their hose, and their hats on.”  Glynne, though he had lost his joke, and though Fox put him further out of temper by distributing among the jurymen a paper against swearing, did not behave badly on the whole, and the issue was the simple recommitment of Fox and his friends to Launceston prison.