A native of Manchester, he was the son of Kenelm Kneebone, a staunch Catholic, and a sergeant of dragoons, who lost his legs and his life while fighting for James the Second at the battle of the Boyne, and who had little to bequeath his son except his laurels and his loyalty to the house of Stuart. He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. It's precisely what such a simpleton would do. The farmer was a widow who was slightly famous around town for his prize cows and slightly more famous for his good looks.
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