The end of school days I am John Ridd, a farmer of the village of Oare in Somerset, and I have a story to tell you. It is about some things that happened to me in my younger days. On the 29th November 1673, when I was twelve years old, John Fry, a worker from our family's farm, came to collect me from my school at Tiverton. He rode his horse up to the gate, leading my own little horse behind him. He was two weeks early, so I knew something was wrong. 'What are you doing here, John?' I asked him. "It's not the holidays yet." He would not look at me. "Oh, I know that, young Master Ridd. But your mother has saved the best apples,