While I had seen snow before, not even York’s oldest residents could remember seeing such a storm, and many worried what it might portend. The city’s Puritans, Joseph chief among them, cried out that God’s fury at England’s sinful ways had not yet run its course. They put their spurs into the constables and beadles, ordering them to redouble their efforts to suppress sin. By the time the storm ended, dozens of whores and drunkards found themselves in the city’s gaols. I was amazed the City Council would tolerate Joseph’s campaign—they had tried the same thing the previous summer and it had ended in a sea of blood. Had they learned nothing? Elizabeth, of course, had never before seen so much snow, and begged with such fervency for me to take her out that I could not deny her. I worried that the cold would leave her phlegmatic, but she skipped gaily along, not minding it in the least. When we entered the Thursday Market I was relieved to see that the gallows had been taken down.
