some of the Friends, tenderly to represent to him the difference between profession and possession, form and power.

He was glad, he said on our behalf, that we came off so well, and escaped imprisonment. But when he understood that G. Whitehead and I were liable to an after-reckoning next morning, he was troubled; and wished the morning was come, and gone, that we might be gone with it.

We spent the evening in grave conversation, and in religious discourses; attributing the deliverance we hitherto had, to the Lord. And the next morning when we were up, and had eaten, we tarried some time to see what the justice would do further with us; and to discharge our engagement to him; the rest of the Friends, who were before fully discharged, tarrying also with us, to see the event.

And when we had staid so long, that on all hands it was concluded we might safely go, G. Whitehead and I left a few words in writing to be sent to the justice, if he sent after us, importing that we had tarried till such an hour; and not hearing from him, did now hold ourselves free to depart; yet so, as that, if he should have occasion to send for us again, upon notice thereof, we would return.

This done, we took our leave of the family, and one of another; they who were for London, taking horse; and I and my companion, setting forth on foot for Oxfordshire, went to Wiccomb; where we made a short stay, to

rest and refresh ourselves, and from thence reached our respective homes that night.

After I had spent some time at home, where, as I had no restraint, so (my sisters being gone) I had now no society; I walked up to Chalfont again, and spent a few days with my friends there.

As soon as I came in, I was told, that my father had been there that day, to see I. Penington and his wife; but they being abroad at a meeting, he returned to his inn in the town, where he intended to lodge that night. After supper, Mary Penington told me she had a mind to go and see him at his inn, (the woman of the house being a friend of ours) and I went with her. He seemed somewhat surprised to see me there, because he thought I had been at home at his house; but he took no notice of my hat, at least shewed no offence at it; for, as I afterwards understood, he had now an intention to sell his estate, and thought he should need my concurrence therein; which made him now hold it necessary to admit me again into some degree of favour. After we had tarried some little time with him, she rising up to be gone, he waited on her home; and having spent about an hour with us in the family, I waited on him back to his inn. On the way, he invited me to come up to London, to see my sisters, the younger of whom was then newly married, and directed me where to find them, and also gave me money to defray my charges. Accordingly I went; yet staid not long there,

L

but returned to my friend Isaac Penington's, where I made a little stay; and from thence went back to Crowell.

When I was ready to set forth, my friend Isaac Penington was so kind as to send a servant, with a brace of geldings, to carry me as far as I thought fit to ride, and to bring the horses back. I intending to go no farther that day than to Wiccomb, rode no farther than to Beconsfield towns-end; having then but five miles to walk. But here a new exercise befel me, the manner of which was thus.

Before I had walked to the middle of the town, I was stopped and taken up by the watch. I asked the watchman what authority he had to stop me, travelling peaceably on the highHe told me he would shew me his auway. thority; and in order thereunto, had me into an house hard by, where dwelt a scrivener, whose name was Pepys. To him he gave the order which he had received from the consta bles; which directed him to take up all rogues, vagabonds and sturdy beggars. I asked him for which of these he stopped me; but he could not answer me.

I thereupon informed him, what a rogue in law is, viz. one who for some notorious offence was burnt on the shoulder; and I told them they might search me if they pleased, and see if I was so branded. A vagabond, I told them, was one that had no dwelling house nor certain place of abode, but I had, and was going to it; and I told them where it was. And for a beg

gar, I bid them bring any one that could say I had begged or asked relief.

This stopped the fellow's mouth, yet he would not let me go, but being both weakheaded and strong-willed, he left me there with the scrivener, and went out to seek the constable; and having found him, brought him thither. He was a young man, by trade a tanner, somewhat better mannered than his wardsman, but not of much better judgment.

And

He took me with him to his house. having settled me there, went out to take advice, as I supposed, what to do with me; leaving no body in the house to guard me, but his wife, who had a young child in her

arms.

She enquired of me upon what account I was taken up; and seeming to have some pity for me, endeavoured to persuade me not to stay, but to go my way, offering to shew me a back way from their house, which would bring me into the road again beyond the town; so that none of the town should see me, or know what was become of me. But I told her I could not do so.

Then having sat a while in a muse, she asked me, if there was not a place of scripture which said, Peter was at a tanner's house: I told her there was such a scripture, and directed her where to find it.

After some time, she laid her child to sleep in the cradle, and stepped out on a sudden, but came not in again in a pretty while.

I was uneasy that I was left alone in the house; fearing lest, if any thing should be missing, I might be suspected to have taken it: yet I durst not go out to stand in the street, lest it should be thought I intended to slip away.

But besides that, I soon found work to employ myself in; for the child quickly waking, fell to crying; and I was fain to rock the cradle in my own defence, that I might not be annoyed with a noise, to me not more unpleasant than unusual. At length the woman came in again; and finding me nursing the child, gave me many thanks, and seemed well pleased with my company.

When night came on, the constable himself came in again, and told me some of the chief of the town were met together, to consider what was fit to do with me; and that I must go with him to them. I went, and he brought me to a little nasty hut, which they called a town-house, adjoining to their market-house, in which dwelt a poor old woman, whom they called mother Grime; where also the watch used by turns to come in and warm themselves in the night.

When I came in among them, some of them looked somewhat sourly on me, and asked me some impertinent questions, to which I gave them suitable answers.

Then they consulted one with another, how they should dispose of me that night, till they could have me before some justice of peace