free from some fluctuations of mind, from the besettings of the enemy. Wherefore, although I knew that outward signs did not properly belong to the gospel dispensation; yet for my better assurance, I did, in fear and great humility, beseech the Lord, that he would be pleased so far to condescend to the weakness of his servant, as to give me a sign, by which I might certainly know, whether my way was right before him or not? The sign which I asked was, That if I had done wrong in coming as I did, I might be rejected, or but coldly received at the place I was going to; but if my undertaking was right in his sight, he would give me favour with them I went to, so that they should receive me with hearty kindness and demonstrations of love. Accordingly, when I came to John Raunce's house, which, being so much a stranger to all, I chose to go, because I understood the meeting was commonly held there; they received me with more than ordinary kindness, especially Frances Raunce, John Raunce's wife, who was both a grave and motherly woman, and had a hearty love to Truth, and tenderness towards all that in sincerity sought after it. This kind reception, confirming me in the belief that my undertaking was approved of by the Lord, gave great satisfaction and ease to my mind; and I was thankful to the Lord therefor. mediately to bed, where he lay restless and groaning, and often bemoaning himself and me, for the greatest part of the night. Next morning my sister sent a man, whom for his love to me, she knew she could trust, to give me this account; and though by him she sent me also fresh linen for my use, in case I should go farther, or stay out longer; yet she desired me to come home as soon as I could. This account was very uneasy to me. I was much grieved that I had occasioned so much grief to my father. I would have returned that evening after the meeting, but the Friends would not permit it; for the meeting would in likelihood end late, the days being short, and the way was long and dirty. And besides, John Raunce told me, that he had something on his mind to speak to my father, and that if I would stay till the next day, he would go down with me; hoping perhaps, that while my father was under this sorrow for me, he might work some good upon him. Hereupon, concluding to stay till the morrow, I dismissed the man with the things he brought, bidding him tell my sister, I intended, God willing, to return home to-morrow; and charging him not to let any body else know that he had seen me, or where he had been. gate, he asking if the justice were at home, she told him, 'yes;' and desiring him to come in and sit down in the Hall, went and acquainted her master, that there was one who desired to speak with him. He, supposing it was one that came for justice, went readily into the hall to him. But he was not a little surprised when he found it was a Quaker; yet not knowing on what account he came, he staid to hear his business. But when he found it was about me, he fell somewhat sharply on him. Next morning John Raunce and I set out, and when we were come to the end of the Thus it fared with me there; but at home town, we agreed that he should go before and it fared otherwise with my father. He sup-knock at the great gate, and I would come a posing I had betaken myself to my cham- little after, and go in by the back way. He ber, when he took my hat from me, made did so; and when a servant came to open the no inquiry after me till evening came; and then sitting by the fire, and considering that the weather was very cold, he said to my sister, who sat by him, 'Go up to your brother's chamber, and call him down; it may be he will sit there else, in a sullen fit, till he has caught cold.' 'Alas! sir,' said she, he is not in his chamber, nor in the house neither.' At that my father startling, said, 'Why where is he then?' I know not, sir,' said she, 'where he is; but I know that when he saw you had sent away his horse, he put on shoes, and went out on foot, and I have not seen him since.' 'And indeed, sir,' added she, 'I don't wonder at his going away, considering how you used him." This put my father into a great fright, doubting I was gone quite away; and so great a passion of grief seized on him, that he forbore not to weep, and cry out aloud, so that the family heard him, 'Oh! my son! I shall never see him more! For he is of so bold and resolute a spirit, that he will run himself into danger, and so may be thrown into some goal or other, where he may lie and die before I can hear of him.' Then bidding her light him up to his chamber, he went im In this time I was come by the back way into the kitchen, and hearing my father's voice so loud, I began to doubt things wrought not well; but I was soon assured of that. For my father having quickly enough of a Quaker's company, left John Raunce in the hall, and came into the kitchen, where he was more surprised to find me. The sight of my hat upon my head, made him presently forget that I was that son of his, whom he had so lately lamented as lost; and his passion of grief turning into anger, he could not contain himself; but running upon me, with both his hands, first violently snatched off my hat and threw it away; then giving me some buffets on my head, he said, Sirrah, get you up to your chamber.' I forthwith went; he following me at the heels, and now and then giving me a whirret on the ear; which, as the way to my chamber lay through the hall where John Raunce was, he, poor man, might see and be sorry for, as I doubt not he was, but could not help me. for lancing, and soon after sunk; then I had ease. I was laid up, as a kind of prisoner, for the rest of this winter, having no means to go forth among Friends, nor they liberty to come to me. Wherefore I spent the time much in my chamber, in waiting on the Lord, and in reading, mostly in the Bible. But whenever I had occasion to speak to my father, though I had no hat now to offend him, yet my language did as much; for I durst not say you to him; but thou, or thee, as the occasion required, and then would he be sure to fall on me with his fists. This was surely an unaccountable thing, that my father should, but a day before, express so high a sorrow for me, as fearing he should never see me any more; and yet now, so soon as he did see me, should fly upon me with such violence, and that only because I did not put off my hat, which he knew I did not keep on in disrespect to him, but upon a religious principle. But as this hat honour, as it is accounted, was grown to be a great idol, in those times more especially, so the Lord was pleased to engage his servants in a steady testimony against it, what suffering soever was brought upon them for it. And though some, who have been called into the Lord's vineyard at later hours, and since the heat of that day hath been much over, may be apt to account this testimony a small thing to suffer so much upon, as some have done, not only to beating, but to fines, and long and hard imprisonments; yet in those times, they who were faithfully exercised under it, durst not despise the day of small things; as know-up into my chamber, and cried unto the Lord, ing that he who would do so, would not be thought worthy to be concerned in higher tesmonies. I had now lost one of my hats, and I had but one more. That therefore I put on, but did not keep it long; for the next time my father saw it on my head, he tore it violently from me, and laid it up with the other, I knew not where. Wherefore I put on my mountiercap, which was all I had left to wear on my head, and it was but a very little while that I had that to wear; for as soon as my father came where I was, I lost that also. And now I was forced to go bare-headed wherever I had occasion to go, within doors and without. This was in the eleventh month, called January, and the weather sharp; so that I, who had been bred up more tenderly, took so great a cold in my head, that my face and head were much swelled; and my gums had on them boils so sore, that I could neither chew meat, nor without difficulty swallow liquids. It held long, and 1 underwent much pain, without much pity, except from my poor sister, who did what she could to give me ease; and at length, by frequent applications of figs and stoned raisins toasted, and laid to the boils as hot as I could bear them, they ripened fit VOL. VII.-No. 10. At one of these times, I remember, when he had beaten me in that manner, he commanded me, as he commonly did at such times, to go to my chamber; which I did, and he followed me to the bottom of the stairs. Being come thither, he gave me a parting blow, and in a very angry tone said, Sirrah, if ever I hear you say thou or thee to me again, I'll strike your teeth down your throat.' I was greatly grieved to hear him say so; and feeling a word rise in my heart, I turned again and calmly said to him, Would it not be just, if God should serve thee so, when thou sayest thou or thee to him? Though his hand was up, I saw it sink and his counte nance fall, and he turned away and left me standing there. But notwithstanding, I went earnestly beseeching him, that he would be pleased to open my father's eyes, that he might see whom he fought against, and for what; and that he would turn his heart. After this I had a time of rest and quiet from these disturbances; my father not saying any thing to me, nor giving me occasion to say any thing to him. But I was still under a kind of confinement, unless I would have run about the country bare-headed like a madman; which I did not see it was my place to do. I found that although to be abroad and at liberty among my friends, would have been more pleasant to me; yet home was at present my proper place, a school in which I was to learn with patience to bear the cross, and I willingly submitted to it. But after some time a fresh storm, more fierce and sharp than any before, arose and fell upon me; the occasion whereof was this; my father, having been in his younger years, more especially while he lived in London, a constant hearer of those who are called puritan preachers, had stored up a pretty stock of Scripture knowledge, and sometimes, though not constantly nor very often, caused his family to come together on a first-day in the evening, and expounded a chapter to them, 46 and prayed. His family now, as well as his estate, was lessened; for my mother was dead, my brother gone, and my eldest sister at London; and having put off his husbandry, he had put off with it most of his servants, so that he had now but one man and one maid servant. It so fell out, that on a first-day night he bid my sister, who sat with him in the parlour, call in the servants to prayer. Whether this was done as a trial upon me, I know not; but a trial it proved to me: for they, loving me very well, and disliking my father's carriage to me, made no haste to go in, but staid a second summons. This so of fended him, that when at length they did go in, he instead of going to prayer examined them, why they came not in when they were first called? And the answer they gave him being such as rather heightened, than abated his displeasure, he, with an angry tone said, call in that fellow,' meaning me, who was left alone in the kitchen, for he is the cause of all this.' As they were backward to go in themselves, so they were not forward to call me in, fearing the effect of my father's displeasure would fall upon me, as it soon did; for hearing what was said, and not staying for the call, I went in of myself. And as soon as I was come in, my father discharged his displeasure on me, in very sharp and bitter expressions; which drew from me in the grief of my heart, to see him so transported with passion, these few words; They that can pray with such a spirit let 'em; for my part I cannot. With that my father flew upon me with both his fists, and not thinking that sufficient, stept hastily to the place where his cane stood, and catching that up, laid on me, I thought, with all his strength. And, being bare-headed, I thought his blows must needs have broken my skull, had I not laid my arm over my head to defend it. His man seeing this, and not able to contain himself, stept between us, and laying hold on the cane, by strength of hand held it so fast, that though he attempted not to take it. away, yet he withheld my father from striking with it; which did but enrage him the more. I disliked this in the man, and bid him let go the cane, and begone; which he immediately did, and turning to be gone, had a blow on the shoulders for his pains, which yet did not much hurt him. But now my sister, fearing lest my father should fall upon me again, besought him to forbear; adding, Indeed sir, if you strike him any more, I will throw open the casement and cry murder; for I am afraid you will kill my brother.' This stopt his hand; and after some threatening speeches, he com manded me to get to my chamber, which I did; as I always did whenever he bid me. Thither, soon after, my sister followed me to see my arm and dress it, for it was indeed very much bruised and swelled between the wrist and elbow; and in some places the skin was broken and beaten off. But though it was very sore, and I felt for some time much pain in it, yet I had peace and quietness in my mind, being more grieved for my father than for myself, who I knew had hurt himself more than me. This was, so far as I remember, the last time that ever my father called his family to prayer. And this was also the last time that he ever fell, so severely at least, upon me. Soon after this, my eldest sister, who in all the time of these exercises of mine, had been at London, returned home; much troubled to find me a Quaker, a name of reproach and great contempt then; and she, being at London, had received, I suppose, the worst character of them. Yet, though she disliked the people, her affectionate regard to me, made her rather pity than despise me; and the more, when she understood what hard usage I had met with. The rest of this winter I spent in a lonesome solitary life, having none to converse with, none to unbosom myself to, none to ask counsel of, none to seek relief from, but the Lord alone; who yet was more than all. And yet the company and society of faithful and judicious friends, would, I thought, have been very welcome, as well as helpful to me in my spiritual travel; in which I thought I made but a slow progress-my soul breathing after further attainments; the sense of which drew from me the following lines. house some months before, Mary Penington, in some discourse between them, had told him how hardly her husband's father, alderman Penington, had dealt with him about his hat; which my father, little then thinking that it would, and so soon too, be his own case, did very much censure the alderman for; wondering that so wise a man as he was, should take notice of such a trivial thing as the putting off, or keeping on a hat; and he spared not to blame him liberally for it. This gave her a handle to take hold of him by. And having had an ancient acquaintance with him, and he having always had an high opinion of and respect for her; she, who was a woman of great wisdom, of ready speech, and of a well resolved spirit, did press so closely upon him with this home-argument, that he was utterly at a loss how to defend himself. After dinner next day, when they were ready to take coach to return home, she desired my father, that, since my company was so little acceptable to him, he would give me leave to go and spend some time with them, where I should be sure to be welcome. He was very unwilling I should go, and made many objections against it; all which she answered and removed so clearly, that not finding what excuse further to alledge, he at length left it to me; and I soon turned the scale for going. We were come to the coach-side before this was concluded on, and I was ready to step in; when one of my sisters privately put my father in mind, that I had never a hat on. That somewhat startled him; for he did not think it fit I should go from home, and that so far, and to stay abroad without a hat. Wherefore he whispered to her to fetch me a hat, and he entertained them with some discourse in the mean time. But as soon as he saw the hat coming, he would not stay till it came, lest I should put it on before him; but breaking off his discourse abruptly, took his leave of them, and hastened in before the hat was brought to me. I had not one penny of money about me, nor any, indeed, elsewhere. For my father, so soon as he saw that I would be a Quaker, took from me both what money I had, and every thing else of value, or that would have made money, as some plate buttons, rings, &c., pretending that he would keep them for me, till I came to myself again, lest in the mean time I should destroy them. But as I had no money, so being among my friends, I had no need of any, nor ever honed after it; though once upon a particular occasion I had like to have wanted it. The case was thus: I had been at Reading, and set out from thence on the first-day of the week in the morning, intending to reach, as in point of time I well might, to Isaac Penington's, where the meeting was to be that day; but when I came to Maidenhead, a thorough-fair town on the way, I was stopt by the watch for riding on that day. The watchman laying hold on the bridle, told me I must go with him to the constable; and accordingly, making no resistance, I suffered him to lead my horse to the constable's door. When we were come there, the constable told me I must go before the warden, who was the chief officer of that town, and bid the watchman bring me on, himself walking before. Being come to the warden's door, the constable knocked, and desired to speak with Mr. Warden. He thereupon quickly coming to the door, the constable said, Sir, I have brought a man here to you, whom the watch took riding through the town.' The warden was a budge old man; and I looked somewhat big too, having a good gelding under me, and a good riding coat on my back, with both which my friend Isaac Penington had kindly accommodated me for that journey. The warden therefore taking me to be, as the saying is, somebody, put off his hat and made a low congee to me; but when he saw that I sat still, and neither bowed to him, nor moved my hat, he gave a start, and said to the constable, You said you had brought a man, but he don't behave himself like a man.' I sat still upon my horse, and said not a word, but kept my mind retired to the Lord, waiting to see what this would come to. The warden then began to examine me, asking me whence I came, and whither I was going? I told him I came from Reading, and was going to Chalfont. He asked me why I travelled on that day? I told him I did not know that it would give any offence barely to ride or walk on that day, so long as I did not carry or drive any carriage, or horses laden with burdens. Why,' said he, if your business was urgent, did you not take a pass from the mayor of Reading? Because, replied I, I did not know, or think I should have needed one. 'Well,' said he, I will not talk with you now, because it is time to go to church; but I will examine you further anon. And turning to the constable, Have him,' said he, to an inn, and bring him before me after dinner.' The naming of an inn put me in mind that such public houses were places of expense, and I knew I had no money to defray it. Wherefore, I said to the warden, before thou sendest me to an inn, which may occasion some expense, I think it needful to acquaint thee, that I have no money. saluted me civilly, and told me they were come to have me before the warden. This At that the warden startled again; and put an end to my writing, which I put into turning quick upon me, said, • How ! no my pocket and went along with them. money! How can that be? You don't look like a man that has no money.' However I look, said I, I tell thee the truth, that I have no money; and I tell it to forewarn thee, that thou mayest not bring any charge upon the town. I wonder,' said he, what art you have got, that you can travel without money; you can do more, I assure you, than I can.' I making no answer, he went on and said, 'Well, well! but if you have no money, you have a good horse under you, and we can distrain him for the charge.' But, said I, the horse is not mine. No!' said he, but you have a good coat on your back, and that, I hope, is your own.' No, said I, but it is not; for I borrowed both the horse and the coat. 6 With that the warden holding up his hands and smiling, said, 'Bless me! I never met with such a man as you are before! What! were you set out by the parish?' Then turn ing to the constable he said, 'Have him to the Greyhound, and bid the people be civil to him.' Accordingly to the Greyhound I was led, my horse set up, and I put into a large room, and some account, I suppose, given of me to the people of the house. This was new work to me, and what the issue of it would be I could not foresee; but being left there alone, I sat down and retired in spirit to the Lord, in whom alone my strength and safety was, and begged support of him; even that he would be pleased to give me wisdom and words to answer the warden, when I should come to be examined again be fore him. Being come to the warden's, he asked me again the same questions he had asked me before-to which I gave him the like answers. Then he told me the penalty I had incurred; which, he said, was either to pay so much money, or lie so many hours in the stocks-and asked me which I would choose? I replied, I shall not choose either. And said I, I have told thee already that I have no money, though if I had, I could not so far acknowledge myself an offender as to pay any. But as to lying in the stocks, I am in thy power, to do unto me what it shall please the Lord to suffer thee. When he heard that he paused a while, and then told me, he considered that I was but a young man, and might not, perhaps, understand the danger I had brought myself into, and therefore he would not use the severity of the law upon me; but in hopes that I would be wiser hereafter, he would pass by this of fence and discharge me. Then putting on a countenance of the greatest gravity, he said to me; But, young man, I would have you know, that you have not only broken the law of the land, but the law of God also; and therefore you ought to ask him forgiveness, for you have highly offended him.' That, said I, I would most willingly do, if I were sensible that, in this case, I had of fended him by breaking any law of his. Why,' said he, 'do you question that? Yes, truly, said I; for I do not know that any law of God doth forbid me to ride on this day. No!' said he, that's strange! Where, I After some time, having pen, ink and paper wonder, were you bred? You can read; can't about me, I set myself to write what I thought you? Yes, said I, that I can. Don't you might be proper, if occasion served, to give read then,' said he, the commandment; "Rethe warden. And while I was writing the member the sabbath-day to keep it holy. Six master of the house being come home from days shalt thou labour, and do all thy work; his worship, sent the tapster to me, to invite but the seventh-day is the sabbath of the Lord me to dine with him. I bid him tell his mas- thy God; in it thou shall not do any work." ter, that I had not any money to pay for my Yes, replied I, I have both read it often, and dinner. He sent the man again to tell me, I remember it very well. But that command should be welcome to dine with him, though I was given to the Jews, not to Christians; had no money. I desired him to tell his mas- and this is not that day, for that was the ter, that I was very sensible of his civility seventh-day, but this is the first. How!' said and kindness, in so courteously inviting me he, do you know the days of the week no bet to his table; but I had not freedom to eat of ter? you had need then be better taught.' his meat, unless I could have paid for it. So Here the younger constable, whose name he went on with his dinner, and I with my was Cherry, interposing, said, Mr. Warden, writing. the gentleman is in the right as to that; for this is the first-day of the week, and not the seventh.' 6 But before I had finished what was on my mind to write, the constable came again, bringing with him his fellow constable. This This the old warden took in dudgeon; and was a brisk, genteel young man, a shopkeeper looking severely on the constable, said, 'What! in the town, whose name was Cherry. They do you take upon you to teach me! I'll have |
