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JAN 31 1918 

AT 3 


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'Hold fast the profession of your faith without 
wavering.' — Heb. x. 23. 




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There are those who are rich in their poverty, 
because they are content, and generously use 
•what they have. There are others who, in the 
midst of their riches, are really poor, from their 
insatiable covetousness of profusion. 


Sir John Keith, who was very violent against 
Friends, having, in the year 1667, brought away, 
under a guard, several of this people from Inver- 
ury, where they had been previously imprisoned; 
the magistrates of Aberdeen, to whom tiiey were 
delivered, after keeping them in confinement 
some time, caused them to be conducted through 
the streets, with great contempt and reproach, 
to the Bow-bridge, where a guard was provided 
to conduct them southward to Edinburgh, from 
shire to sliire, as the worst of malefactors. 
When they had proceeded a little way out of 
the town, one of the prisoners, William Gellie, 
a man of very weakly and infirm habit, sat 

IV. . A 



down, and the rest of the Friends followed his 
example, refusing to go further unless horses 
were provided. At this, one of the magistrates 
who attended in order to see them sent out, was 
much enraged, commanding William Gellie to 
rise and go forward on foot, and because of his 
refusal he struck him piteously. Friends, how- 
ever, continued to sit still, upon which the 
magistrate, with all his train, not being able to 
prevail in their purpose, returned to Aberdeen, 
and the Friends to their respective dwelling- 
places. But the first object that presented 
itself to this persecutor, on reaching his own 
house, was his son, who had by a fall broken 
his arm, and at the very same time that the 
father had been using his arm to strike the 
harmless servant of the Lord ; which circum- 
stance, thus coinciding, so awakened the con- 
science of this person, that he said, and after- 
ward told it to some Friends, he should never 
strike a Quaker again. 


Buckinghamshire, 1658. — Many Friends going 
to religious meetings a few miles distant fi'om 
their own dwellings, were taken up by officers, 
mider pretence of breaking the Sahbath, had their 
horses impounded, and sometimes detained for 
a penalty of ten shillings, for travelling on that 
day ; and at other times themselves — for refus- 


ing to pay the penalty — were set in the stocks. 
— (Besse, vol. i. p. 75.) 


' Though griefs unnumljered throng thee around. 
Still in tliy God confiile ; 
Whose finger marks the seas their bound, 
And curbs the headlong tide.' 

Trials are part of the inlieritauce of man — 
the unfailing lot of mortals. That man hath 
not lived, who never mourned. Yet life has 
its blessings and pleasures ; but it cannot be 
denied that it has its trials and afflictions ; 
trials numerous and unexpected. Youth is 
naturally sanguine in expectation of future 
good ; but how seldom are all his expectations 
and ardeut wishes fully realized. Disappoint- 
ments follow in our footsteps from youth to age. 

Disappointments, when frequent and grievous, 
become trials. Trials become light or burthen- 
some by so much as we are prepared to sustain 
them. They either elevate the mind and raise 
the thoughts to God, or deject the mind and 
lead away the heart from the proper source of 
blessedness and comfort. Trials all, more or 
less, must expect to meet in their journey 
through life. But there is a sweet alleviation to 
the sorest trials that can beset our pathway. It 
is found in religion. This will afford a balm for 
every wound, a cordial for every fear, an allevia- 
tion for every pang, a comfort for every sorrow. 
Virtue is the safeguard of youth — the rejoic- 

A 2 



ing of manhood, and it will be the stay and 
solace of old age. It will greatly lighten^the 
burden of life, cheer amid its difl&culties, com- 
fort in trial, and will bear at last its possessor 
to the mansions of ineffable bliss and joy. Then 

' Let faith suppress its rising fear, 
Eiicli anxious doubt exclutle ; 
Tliy Malier's will lias placed thee here, 
A Maker wise and good I 
He, to thy every trial, knows 
Its just restraint to give ; 
Attentive to behold thy woes, 
And faithful to relieve.' 


The following testimony respecting George Fox, 
from a memoir of Mary Tatham, a pious char- 
acter amongst the Wesleyan Methodists, is an 
extract from one of her letters, dated J^ovem- 
ber 19, 1815— 

' I have been looking over the life of George 
Fox, the original founder of Quakerism. Were 
the Quakers influenced by the same spirit now, 
which actuated that extraordinary man, they 
would not only be a living people, but they 
would carry the world before them. That good 
)nan was undoubtedly raised up of God to pro- 
voke the churches to jealousy, and to rouse them 
from that spirit of slumber, indifference, and 
barbarism, into which some of them had fallen ; 
particularly he was sent to the Established 
church, apd was, indeed, a sign unto them.' 




The times from which our Society dates its 
origin were of a very peculiar cast. The apos- 
tacj from the purity and simplicity of Chris- 
tianity, which had discovered itself even in the 
days of the apostles,* which continued to ad- 
vance until the whole Christian world ^vas en- 
veloped in the mists of ignorance, superstition, 
and error, had been long upon tlie decline. 
Rays of light, from the great author and sourc3 
of light, had never entirely ceased to penetrate 
the gloom, and to give some perception of the 
surrounding darkness. f But the time was now 
arrived when a clearer discovery of error should 
be made, and especially of that antichristian 
tyranny which man had long exercised over the 
conscience of his fellow-mcn. At length, it 
pleased God that tlie glorious Sun of Righteous- 
ness, which had long, with a steady course, been 
approaching the horizon, should rise above it. 
A clear discovery of the errors of the night, and 
of the great and blessed realities of the gospel 
day, was the necessary consequence. It was in 
vain that some denied, others scoffed and de- 
rided, and all, as tliey had power, by cruel per- 
secutions, spoiling of goods, and imprisonments, 
endeavoured to suppress and exterminate tliis 
heavenly manifestation of the Divine will in the 
latter days. There were, in a short time, many 

* Rev. ii. 4, 11, IS; iii. I. \r,. 17. 
t See Rev. xi. 3. 

A 3 



who could say, from an assurance not to be 
shaken, ' The^darkness is past, and the true 
light now shineth.' These, believing in the 
light, and walking in the light, became children 
of the light and of the day; being 'transformed 
by the renewing of their mind,' they could no 
longer be ' conformed to this world,' its maxims, 
ordinances, or worships ; they came to know 
' the removing of those things that are shaken,' 
and ' those things which cannot be shaken,' to 
remain ; and thus experienced the truth of the 
apostolic declaration, ' If any man be in Christ, 
he is a new creature : old things are passed 
away, all thirigs are become new, and all things 
are of God.' — (Ball's Premonitory Extracts.) 


Bishop Horsley says, ' The Common Prayer 
Book is nothing but a long Act of Parliament; 
all the rubrics are clauses in that statute.' — 
[Charge to the Clergy of St. Asaph.) 


When we consider the nature and spirituality 
of the gospel dispensation, as set forth in the 
New Testament, and exemplified in the practice 
of the primitive Christians, we might have ex- 
pected that a nation, professing belief in these 
truths, would liave exercised great caution, that, 



in the important business of the establishment 
of a church and worship, it built upon no other 
than the appointed foundation, or in any way 
interfered with the office and privileges of the 
great Head of the church. Without question- 
ing the sincerity or the piety of many concerned 
in effecting the reformation from Popery in.this 
country, it is well known that the work was 
not carried so far as some of them had pro- 
posed; and that, after a short time, its further 
advancement was abandoned. The Spirit of 
Christ, who is the way, the truth, and the life, and 
which had opened their understandings to dis- 
cover many of the errors of the church of Rome, 
was not waited upon to lead them into all truths 
which it would have been profitable for them 
to know; and thus many things, which had no 
higher authority than human wisdom, were re- 
tained in their worship and religious observances. 

Our reformers appear to have been particu- 
larly unhappy, in conceiving themselves called 
upon to educate and ordain gospel ministers, as 
thereby an important channel of Divine com- 
munication for the discovery of error was much 
ob.structed; and as this 'making and ordaining' 
of ministers, and the establishment of these by 
the civil magistrate, as the duly qualified and 
divinely commissioned ministers of our Lord 
and Saviour, form a very important feature of 
the system, it may be profitable to give this 
branch of the subject some consideration. 

As it is impossible for the stream to rise 
higher than its fountain, and for man to give 



what lie does not posses;?, so it is impossible, by 
education, or auj process in the power of man, 
to confer that spiritual ability and qualification 
which are essential to the character of a minis- 
ter of Christ. If the ministers under the gospel 
had been, like the priests under the Mosaic 
law,.to be made ' after the law of a carnal com- 
mandment,' that law would doubtless have been, 
like other carnal laws, minutely explicit : but 
they are to be made, like their holy Head, the 
minister of ministers, ' after the power of an 
endless life.' 'As every man hath recmec^ the 
gift, even so minister the same one to another,' 
saith the apostle, ' as good stewards of the 
manifold grace of God. If any man speak, let 
him speak as the oracles of God ; if any man 
minister, let him do it as of tlie ability which 
God giveth, that God, in all things, may be 
glorified through Jesus Christ;' and not man, who 
would indeed be glorified, if he could of himself 
acquire this qualification, or bestow it on whom- 
soever it might please him. ' Enticing words of 
man's wisdom ' are at his command ; ' the de- 
monstration of the Spirit and of power ' is not 
so. It is well known that the ministers of the 
established religion in this country lay claim 
to a Divine qualification for their office, in vir- 
tue of a supposed ordination derived from the 
apostles, and preserved, in an unbroken suc- 
cession, to the present time. But this out- 
ward ordination and succession, so inferior iu 
point of solemnity, significant ceremony, and 
security of preservation, to the ordination and 



succession which were instituted by the Al- 
mighty for the Mosaic priesthood, can neither 
be shown to have been instituted and made 
essential by our Saviour, nor, if so instituted 
and made essential, can they be shown to have 
been maintained. This position has been suf- 
ficiently established by writers of the Church 
of England. And supposing the clergy to have 
actually received a superhuman appointment 
and qualification, how can they lay this precious 
gift at the feet of the civil magistrate, to be 
modelled, and limited, and restrained, or the 
exercise of it even suspended by him without 
base treachery to the heavenly giver ? and how 
dares the civil power thus restrain and limit 
the acknowledged gift of God ? 

We have an example, in the Scriptures, of 
one who 'thought that the gift of God might 
be purchased with money;' and from the I'esem- 
blance which it is supposed to bear- to the crime 
of Simon Magus, the obtaining of the corrupt 
presentation to an ecclesiastical benefice is 
termed simony, and is considered a grievous 
crime by the statute law of this country as 
well as by the canon law: but a great legal 
authority is of the opinion, that the 'purchasing 
of holy orders,' or ' a license to preach,' is more 
analogous to the crime of tliis sorcerer, and 
therefore to be ' the true, though not the com- 
mon notion of simony.'* Whether the minis- 

* Blackstone's Commentary, Book I., cap. xi., ^ 6 ; and 
Book II., cap. xviii , ^ i. 



ters of the established church, however they 
may be acquitted by human laws, are not deeply 
implicated in this crime, must appear, when 
they are called upon, before a higher tribunal, 
to produce their authority for the character 
which they have assumed, as the delegated 
ministers of Christ. 

It is not the assumption of the character, nor 
the allowance of that assumption by human 
laws, which constitutes a minister of the gos- 
pel; nor will high pretensions justify our neglect 
of the injunction of our Saviour, ' Beware of 
false prophets.' Our blessed Lord foresaw that 
such would arise ; such as would not only de- 
ceive others, but, as it appears, themselves also. 
He assures us that, in the awful day of account, 
' many ' would expostulate with him, and evi- 
dently in the agony of disappointment, ' Lord, 
Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name ? and 
in thy name -have cast out devils? and in thy 
name done many wonderful works?' These, it 
is evident, entertain the persuasion that they 
had preached, and done many wonderful works 
in the name of the Lord. But the dreadful an- 
swer will dissipate the delusion ; ' I never knew 
you: depart from me, ye that work iniquity.' 
It is very easy to preach in the name of the 
Lord, and to baptize in the name of the Father, 
and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, and to 
communicate the supper of the Lord in word 
a7id in form ; but to do any of these truly, and 
in very deed, in the name and authority of the 
Lord Jesus Christ, requires nothing less than the 



immediate power and assistance of God through 
the Holy Spirit, purchased for us by the atoning 
blood and mediation of the Redeemer. The 
baptism of Christ, which thoroughly purges the 
floor of the heart, and burns up the chaff with 
unquenchable fire ; his supper, to which those 
are graciously admitted, who hear his voice and 
open the door at his knocking ; these are indeed 
' wonderful works,' which man may undertake, 
but which, of his own ability and strength, he 
will never perform. Nor is the preaching of 
the gospel more within his reach. To this 
office, the saying of our Saviour appears pe- 
culiarly applicable, ' He that is not ivitli me, is 
against me ; and he that gathereth not loith me, 
scattereth ' (Luke xi. 23). — (Ball's Premonitory 


We read that when a heathen surprised a Chris- 
tian, and beat him with much cruelty, and, with 
great scorn, asking him what great wonder his 
Master, Christ, ever did ? The believer replied, 
' Even this great miracle, that, though thou use 
me thus cruelly, I can heartily forgive thee ! ' 


Friend, — That love that thinketh no evil, and 
rejoiceth in the truth, constraineth me to say 



that jour exhortation on Wednesday was suited 
to mj case or state. 

I am humbly thankful God hath not left me 
without his witness in my heart, and also that 
he hath inclined you to point me out ; may I 
humbly wait his time of deliverance, and follow 
by faith his fiery and cloudy pillar all through 
this howling wilderness. I have, I humbly hope, 
preached Jesus Christ, but not in your Society, 
and, I hope, in a good degree, with a single eye 
to the glory of God ; but, having been lately 
exercised with many and severe trials from the 
professed church, I have been led to retire in- 
ward, to commune with my own heart and be 
still. I see my own ignorance, my will-worship, 
my forms and modes and gospel schemes, my un- 
feeling prayers, and often unreasonable preach- 
ings without spirit and without life, as only 
arising from a carnal mind which is at enmity 
with God, and the imagination exalting itself 
against him. From six years of age, I have 
tasted at seasons Divine love and favour, but I 
much lament I have too often lost the savour 
of his precious truth, may it be so no more ; 
many times, like Israel, have I been delivered, 
and as often, like them, have I provoked him 
by distrust; yea, he hath chastised me, and I 
have been like a bullock unaccustomed to the 
yoke. O! that I might be so moulded into his 
heavenly image, as daily to say, experimentally, 
'Thy will be done.' He indeed renewed his 
love to me that evening; and he has since 
caused his grace to distil as the dew, and hath 



given me to know that, in bis own time and 
way, lie will lengthen mv coi'ds and strengthen 
my stakes, and cause me to break out on the 
right hand and on the left. I feel my spirit 
melted while I write this with the tenderest 
love and affection towards you, that minister in 
the Word, and towards your Society; I joy in 
your joys, and should sorrow in your sorrows 
did I know them. Pardon me if I go too far 
in saying that I have seen, in my mind, what 
the Lord will do in his own time : — Antichrist 
will fall, with all his power, and a pure primi- 
tive church (perhaps like thine) will arise out of 
its ruins ; for in the evening-time it shall be 
light, and that shall shine brighter and brighter 
unto the perfect day. I am burdened with the 
weight of an awful, fearful apprehension, that 
the Lord hath a controversy with us as a nation 
laden with iniquity ; his hand hath been, is, and 
will be stretched out against us, if we do not 
repent, and turn to him with all our hearts. 
0 ! Friend, I know, by many years' experience, 
though I am but a young man, that, if you are 
but faithful to reprove publicly and privately, you 
will suffer persecution; perhaps even amongst 
some of your own whole-hearted people (for all 
are not Israel that are born of Israel) ; but con- 
tinue you faithful unto death, and you know 
who hath said he will give you a crown of life. 
I conclude ; may the peace of God reign in your 
heart, and may you be stirred up to thankful- 
ness to him, in your spirit, on my account, and 
may all who heard you on that evening (if He 

IV. B 



SO will) meet to praise him for ever. As to me, 
at a suitable season, thy people shall be mine ; 
I will live and die in their communion, and 
amongst them (if I can and the Lord please) be 

Thy God is my God, and to his grace I am a 
great debtor. When you find freedom in prayer, 
remember your affectionate Friend. 


The following particulars respecting George 
Keith may be new to some. It is rather amus- 
ing to observe how similar the anticipation of 
Dr. Wallis, as to the usefulness of George Keith 
as a spiritual oculist, are to those of the credu- 
lous Bishop Burnet, who, in his account of him, 
writes thus, ' he was reconciled to the church, 
and is now in holy orders amongst us, and likely 
to do good service in undeceiving and reclaim- 
ing some of those misled enthusiasts ' (mean- 
ing the Quakers). Misum teneatis amici ? 

(From the Gentleman s Magazine for 1789, 
p. 780.) 

Mr. Urban, — As the mention of some names 
on any account remarkable, has brought forth 
anecdotes which, in a Miscellany professedly 
designed for the curious, are no doubt accept- 
able, I ha%'e some well-authenticated ones of 
George Keith, to whom a letter of Dr. "Wallis* 

The expressions alluded to are contained in the exor- 



is addressed, and which will show how well the 
' hopes and prayers ' of the good Doctor were 
answered, as to his becoming ' a good instru- 
ment in opening the eyes of the blind,' after he 
entered into the communion of the Church of 
England. I am qualified to do this, not only 
from what has been published of his life, but 
from some memoirs in MS. left by a very re- 
spectable yeoman of the neighbourhood where 
George Keith settled, which was at Eberton, in 
Sussex, of which place he was rector; a place 
very unfavourable for his practice as a spiri- 
tual oculist, as it does not appear there were 
any of the poor blind dissenters in the parish. 
However, after labouring much to convince the 
Quakers of their errors, and endeavouring in 
vain to confute his own publications in defence 
of their principles, it appears he did not go 
much abroad to annoy them further, but went 
to quarrelling with his parishioners about tithes, 
and rendered himself so troublesome to his 
neighbours, both rich and poor, that they de- 
clared ' it was almost impossible to live peace- 

dium of the Doctor's letter, and are as follows : — ' Sir, I 
thank you for those sermons of yours you were jdeaseil to 
send me, which I received by the hands of a very good 
friend, and wliich I have read with good approbation. I 
hope (and pray) that the good pains you have taken, for 
some years past, in discovering tlie errors of the common 
Quakers, and instructing others formerly seduced by them, 
and your good example in embracing the communion of the 
Cliurch of England, may be of good use, through God's 
blessing, for opening the eyes of some others who are yet 




ably by him,' and said they should be glad if 
the Quakers would have him again, so that they 
could be rid of him. 

It was an ancient custom in the parish of 
Edberton, that many of the lower classes brought 
offering-money at a set day in the year, when 
they used to receive good entertainment of the 
rector. But Parson Keith's entertainments were 
such as raised most grievous outcries against 
him ; and one poor woman affirmed that he took 
every tenth egg of her, who had but one hen in 
the world, and also the tenth of her carrots, 
turnips, and apples, even if she had under a 

He was lame, and rather helpless, for more 
than three years before his death; and, being 
incapable of walking to church, he hired his 
clerk, whose name was Edward Rhodes, and an- 
other man to carry him, but, refusing to satisfy 
them for their trouble, they would carry him 
no longer ; after which he was presented by his 
own parishioners for doing duty himself, or hir- 
ing a curate ; the latter, at last, he was obliged 
to do. He was presented for divers neglects, 
as not repairing the parsonage, &c. ; and would 
frequently not pay lawful taxes without prose- 
cutions. He lay bed-ridden more than half a 
year before his death, during which time, such 
was the general disgust he had given his hearers, 
that very few of them ever went to visit him. 
He died in 1716. 

He was undoubtedly a man of great abilities, 
but seems peculiarly to have possessed those 



powers of the imagination to which instability 
of character is too frequently annexed. 

We here behold a man glowing with the lore 
of human kind, travelling through various coun- 
tries, devoting his faculties and all he possessed 
to the preaching of the free grace of God, after- 
wards become the quarrelsome, oppressive, and 
miserable rector of an obscure parish ; verifying 
Pope's melancholy reflection — 

' How oft we sec at sixty all undone 
The virtues of a saint at twenty-one.' 

Yours, &c., R. S. 


When the Lord put the different animals into 
the ark — lions, tigers, lambs — all agreed with 
each other. If we are really in the ark, we 
shall also be blest with the spirit of concord. 
People dwell too much upon the fringes and 
phylacteries of religion, instead of laying due 
stress upon religion itself, and this is one reason 
why we do not agree as we ought. — (Rowland 


If there is, in the affairs of mortal men, any 
one thing which it is proper uniformly to ex- 
plode, which it is incumbent on every man, by 
every lawful means, to avoid, to deprecate, to 
oppose, that one thing is, doubtless, war. There 
is nothing more unnaturally xoicked, more pro- 

B .3 



ductive misery, more extensively destructive, 
more obstinate in mischief, more unworthy of 
man as formed bj nature, much more of man 
professing Christianity.— (Ea.A.^m]S.) 


William Caton, one of the earliest associates of 
George Fox, having married into Holland, visited 
his Friends in England in 1662. On his return, 
the vessel being in danger of foundering in a 
storm, he first took his turn at the pump with 
the seamen, and then called upon the Lord, 
and prayed to the Most High for deliverance 
from the danger; and lastly praised the Al- 
mighty for the great mercy shown to him and 
the mariners. 

After this, the vessel put back to Yarmouth, 
where he was taken, with seven others, from a 
religious meeting on the first day of the week, 
and confined above six months in prison iu 


Of these there is a very ancient one at Catawissa, 
a large village, on the banks of the Susquehanna, 
in Columbia county, State of Pennsylvania. 
This place is in the midst of picturesque scenery. 
It was, originally, a Quaker settlement, says 
Sherman Day, in his Historical Collections of 
Pennsylvania. On a beautiful shady kuoll, a 



little apart from the dust and din of the village, 
stands the venerable Quakers' meeting-house, 
a perishable monument of a race of early settlers 
that have nearly all passed away. ' And where 
are they gone ?' we inquired of an aged Friend, 
sitting with one or two sisters on the bench, 
under the shade of the tall trees that overhung 
the meeting-house. 'Ah!' said he, 'some are 
dead, but many are gone to Ohio, and still 
further west. Once there was a large meeting 
here, but now there are but few of us to sit 
together.' Pennsylvania exhibits many similar 
instances, in which the original settlers have 
yielded to another and more numerous I'ace. 

One of the venerable meeting-houses, founded 
by the early Friends from Wales, is that at 
Lower Merion, situated near the Columbia rail- 
road, about two miles west of Mangunk. It 
was erected, as appears by a date on a tablet, 
in 1G95 ; and is probably the oldest place of 
worship in Pennsylvania. Among the early 
settlers in Sleriou were — the Roberts' family ; 
Edward Jones, a man given to hospitality, and 
generally beloved, who died in 1737, at the 
age of 82 ; and Benjamin Humphrey, who came 
over in 1683, and died in 1737, aged 76. He 
was also remarked for his hospitality, and was 
a useful member among the Quakers. 

I believe it was at the house of the above- 
named Edward Jones, that William Penn lodged, 
when the interesting circumstance occurred, 
related at p. 156, vol. ii. of these Miscellanies. 

Some years ago, the old meeting-house of 



Merion was repaired and stuccoed,- aud it is 
still in use. My friend, Isaac Collins of Phila- 
delphia, having obliged me with a pencil sketch 
of it, I have had it drawn in chalk, to face the title- 
page of this volume. Some of the beautiful trees 
by which it is surrounded, are probably those 
planted by Robert Sutclilfe, with whose travels 
in America Friends are pretty familiar. In 
his Journal, under date 5th month, 2d, 1806, he 
says, ' I attended Merion week-day meeting, and 
spent the afternoon pleasantly, in company with 
R. J. and H. B., whom I assisted in planting 
several paper mulberry trees, in the vacant 
ground near the meeting-house, which were in- 
tended to be a shade for Friends' horses in the 
summer season.' There is generally a plot of 
ground round the country meeting-houses in 
America, sometimes of several acres, planted 
with shady trees, under which the horses and 
carriages of Friends stand, during meeting time, 
and which forms a most interesting piece of 

Smith, the historian, gives the following dates 
of the establishment of Friends' meetings in 
Pennsylvania — 

In 1683, he says, a First-day meeting was 
established to be held at Tahoney or Oxford. 
Another was also established at Poetquessing. 
And afterwards in the same year, a monthly 
meeting was set up, to consist of those two 
meetings ; and that at Abingdon, to be held by 
turns among them. 

The 21th of the 7th month, 1716, the meeting 



at Horsham was settled, at first oulj in the 
winter season ; but Friends increasing, after 
some time a meeting-house was built, and it 
was fixed there constantly, and so continues. 

At North Wales a meeting-house was built 
in the year 1700, which was but two years after 
the arrival of the Welch Friends to that place, 
and meetings were kept therein by the consent 
of Haverford monthly meeting, to which they 
had at first joined themselves. Finding truth 
to prevail, and their numbers to increase, they 
found it necessary to build another meeting- 
house in 1712 ; and on the 19th of the 9th 
month that year, the first meeting for worship 
was held therein. Their number afterwards 
stiU increasing, as well among themselves as 
by the union of many adjacent settlers, Friends, 
belonging to Nortli Wales or Gwynned, Ply- 
mouth meeting settled a monthly meeting of 
business amongst themselves, by the consent 
of Haverford meeting aforesaid, and the quar- 
terly meeting of Philadelphia. The said monthly 
meeting was first held the 22d day of the 12th 
month, 1714 or 1715, at Gwynned meeting- 
house, and called Gwynned monthly meeting. 

Plymouth meeting-house was built a con- 
siderable time before this, and a meeting for 
worship held there as at this day. The said 
meeting was in being the 4th of the 1st month, 
1688-89, and how long before, is not certain. 




Notwithstanding nearly two centuries have 
elapsed since the rise of the Society, during 
which period many treatises explanatory of its 
views have been published, yet at the present 
day there exists a contrariety of opinions re- 
specting the faith of the primitive Quakers. 
This has not arisen from any deficiency of full 
and explicit declarations of their belief ; for 
these are numerous, comprehensive, and per- 
spicuous. But these declarations lie scattered 
among a great, mass of controversial works, 
written more than a century ago ; possessing 
little of the attractive novelty of modern litera- 
ture, and withal *so voluminous, that few persons 
have either the inclination or the leisure to 
examine their instructive pages. These cir- 
cumstances, added to tlieir great scarcity, have 
occasioned their being little read even by the 
members of our own Society, and hence many 
are not aware of the plain and positive avowal 
of their Christian belief, which our worthy pre- 
decessors repeatedly made. Too many among 
us have grown up in ignorance of those precious 
doctrines, in support of which their forefathers 
endured the heat of cruel persecution, suffered 
patiently the loss of property, imprisonment in 
loathsome and unhealthy dungeons ; and even 
sealed their testimony with the sacrifice of life, 
rather than renounce the holy profession which 
they had espoused. 

It is certainly much to be regretted, that 



there should be any want of information on 
subjects of such great importance, so intimately 
connected with the welfare, and even the exist- 
ence, of our religious Society ; and in which 
every rightly exercised member must feel a deep 
and earnest interest. It surely becomes those 
who have the charge of educating children, 
seriously to consider whether the acquisition of 
this knowledge ought not to form a prominent 
feature in every system of religious instruction, 
and whether the neglect to impart it is not a 
breach of that duty which they owe to the 
tender objects of their care, for which an awful 
responsibility must devolve upon them. 

The faith of the Society of Friends, which is 
grounded upon the New Testament, may be 
found clearly set forth in Barclay's Apology. 
Evan's Exposition, an American work, is a com- 
pilation exhibiting . the doctrinal views of the 
early Friends in their own language ; and prov- 
ing, by the concurrent testimony of numerous 
contemporary writers, that they sincerely be- 
lieved, and openly avowed, the great funda- 
mental truths of the Christian religion. Clark- 
son's Portraiture, Bate's Doctrines, Tuke's Prin- 
ciples, and other works, may also be consulted 
as explanatory of the principles of Friends. 
The British Friend edition of Clarkson's Por- 
traiture is well adapted for general readers, and 
Barclay's Apology for more deep inquirers. Both 
are published in very cheap forms. 




It is related in JaiFray's Diary, that Alexander 
Gordon, professedly a minister of the gospel, 
■who procured the imprisonment of George 
Keith, for preaching the truth in the grave-yard 
at Old Deei-, in Scotland — and caused him, with 
another Friend, to be kept all night in a very 
filthy dungeon, called the Thieves' Hole, where 
there was no window, either for light or air — 
was immediately after cut off by death in a 
sudden and surprising manner. — {Irish Friend, 
p. 290.) 


Newgate [Prisoti], London, 22d of Qith mo. 
[Sthmo.], 1664. 

Dear George, 
My love in the Lord doth dearly reach forth 
and extend itself to thee ; and therewith do I 
most dearly salute thee, even in the bond of 
love and covenant of peace and life, into which 
the Lord, by his eternal power and arm of 
strength, hath gathered many in this day of his 
appearance and loving-kindness unto the sons 
of men ; in which we are daily made partakers 
of his endless riches and mercies, which he 
multiplies unto us, and renews in us through 
Christ our Lord and life ; by and through which 
we live, and are kept alive unto him, and en- 
abled to do his will and to answer his requir- 
ings, in whatsoever he makes known and reveals 
unto us to be our duty to do. 



Truly, dear George, tlie Lord is not slack 
concerniDg the promises of his blessings unto 
his own seed, now in its suffering condition ; 
neither is he wanting unto us in this our time 
of trial : but indeed I may say in truth, that he 
causeth his love and kindness to abound in us, 
and our cups to overflow. What may I say of 
his endless love, it is indeed be^^ond declaring; 
for I know not what more can be desired than 
the Lord hath done for us or given unto us, as 
concerning tlie present enjoyment of his rich 
love and blessings ; for which blessings, glory 
and praise be unto his name for ever and ever ! 

And now, dear George, to give thee an ac- 
count of things here, and how it hath been 
of late, it is in my heart at this time to do. 
Yesterday week, after I had been speaking the 
truth to the people, in the Bull and Mouth, 
about one hour and a half, the sheriff came, 
with (I judge) near half a hundred of the city 
officers, to break our meeting ; and after they 
had made proclamation in the street for the 
multitude to depart (for they feared the multi- 
tude, which was great, that came to see what 
became of us), they rushed in violently to the 
meeting and commanded me down ; but I was 
not free [to obey] their command. Then they 
drew their swords, and one of them laid on me 
with a hanger, but struck with the flat side of 
it; and the rest laid on PViends with swords and 
staves, and so pulled me down and out to the 
slieriff in the yard. Then I spoke to them of 

IV. c 



the unmanliness of their proceedings, to come 
iu such a posture amongst an innocent peace- 
able people that would not resist them, that it 
was far below the spirit of a man ; and they 
were ashamed, and commanded the swords to 
be put up. So afterwards they fetched out the 
rest of the meeting moi-e quietly, and two or 
three of the officers took me and led me alone to 
the Guildhall ; and afterwards brought Friends, 
two, three, four, and six at a time, to me, till 
they had brought near two hundred. And I 
drew them together about the judgment-seat, 
and had there a very precious meeting, for the 
power and presence of the Lord was plentifully 
manifested amongst us. So, after a while, the 
Mayor and Aldermen, &c., came, but were so 
employed with Baptists and Pendents [Inde- 
pendents], that they meddled not with us; but 
kept us there under strong guards till midnight, 
not permitting Friends to come to us ; but they 
had, one way or another, turned out near half 
our company. Then about midnight (that 
people might not see us), they brought us to 
Newgate; and the next day they sent for about 
twenty to the Guildhall, and committed about 
sixteen, and let the rest go. The Fourth day 
they sent for me and eleven more, sajing, we 
must go before the Mayor and Bishop at Guild- 
hall ; but when we came there, no Bishop ap- 
peared: and I asked of the Mayor for the Bishop, 
telling him it liad been more honourable to have 
sent him to the Bull and Mouth with his spiri- 
tual weapons, and thereby overcome us if he 



could ; but he would say little to that, but ap- 
peared very moderate to me. I had fine talk 
with him, and he told me he had rather set us 
at liberty than commit us, but he could not 
avert it, for I must either pay 5s. fine, or go 
to prison fourteen days. I told him if he 
would prove that I was in meeting in other 
manner than is allowed by the Liturgy of the 
Church of England, I would then pay him 5s.; 
but lie would not say more, but left the bench, 
aud I was sent away. Tlien they called in the 
rest, one at a time, and committed them in like 
manner; they did things in an inner room, where 
none but themselves might hear, though many 
hundreds of people were without, murmuring to 
get in ; and so tliey sent us to Newgate again. 
On Sixth day they sent the rest, about sixty in 
all, to the Old Bailey, and committed them for 
about nine days a piece. 

On Third day last, as I was speaking in our 
meeting on the chapel side [in Newgate], one 
of the keeper's men came and fetched me away, 
and put me in the hole where condemned men 
used to be put ; but they kept me not there an 
hour. On Fifth day, as I was speaking, he 
came again ; and because Friends stood round 
about me, that he could not reacli me, he fell 
laying on both men aud women with a great 
staff; and the felons fell on with their fists, beat- 
ing Friends ; and some of the women thieves, 
with a knife or knives, thi'eatened to stab 
Friends, and did attempt so to do, but were 
prevented. At last they brought me away, and 

c 2 


s;:lect miscellaxies. 

put me to dear A. P. in Justice's hall : and I 
wrote to the Mayor and sent a Friend with it. 
He seemed to be wroth with them for so abusing 
us, and said we should not be so abused ; but 
he would take a speedy course to have it other- 
wise. Since that, he [the keeper's man] would 
let me go over to them sometimes, but not be 
always with them. I have very quiet precious 
meetings with them when I go ; and indeed the 
glorious and mighty power of God [is felt] to 
the admiration of many. But last First-day, 
the Mayor and wicked IBrown came to the Bull 
meeting themselves ; and Friends were "fetched 
out before them in the porch, where they fined 
them and committed them, upjvards of two hun- 
dred, and sent them to Newgate ; but they that 
brought them turned many away by the way, 
and some of the halbert men would run away 
from them, and leave them in the street ; so 
that I think but about one hundred and twenty 
only were brought in. But Brown showed himself 
very cruel, and pinched the women sorely, and 
pulled the hair off the men's heads; and would 
take them by the hats, and bring their heads 
near the ground, and then cast their hats in the 
dirt. James Parke was taken there ; and from 
the Peall [Peele] about thirty were brought to 
Newgate, and about twelve from Mile-end ; but 
we know not yet how long they are committed 
for: we judge here are, in all, in this Newgate, 
about three hundred of us. But the Lord is 
with us of a truth, and doth bear up our hearts 
far above all sufferings, blessed be his name for 



ever! John Higgins and one more are in upon 
the third account; and at Hertford, eight are 
sentenced to be banished — four to Barbadoes, 
and four to Jamaica ; and some more are in on 
the third account. 

Dear George, pray for us, tliat we may be 
kept faithful in the power and authority of God, 
and that his presence and love may be always 
continued with us. Dear A. P. [Alexander 
Parker] deai'ly salutes thee ; and my love sal- 
utes M. F. and the rest with thee. I would be 
glad to hear from thee, who am thine in the 



Among the first of those who opposed the prac- 
tice of slaveholding was a female Friend resid- 
ing in Virginia, and for this opposition she was 
disowned from her Religious Society. When 
on her death-bed, she sent for the committee 
who had treated with her, told them that the 
near approach of death had not altered her 
mind on the subject of Slavery, and then, gently 
waving her hand toward a very fertile and 
beautiful tract of country that lay before her 
window, she said with great solemnity, 'Friends, 
the time will come when there will not be Friends 
enough in this district to hold one meeting for 
worship, and this garden will be turned into a 
wilderness,' There were, at the time, seven 
meetings of Friends in that part of Virginia, 

t 3 



but they have all long since been deserted,' and 
the countrj literally desolated. 

Summer's sun was going downward 

Toward his empire on the sea, 
And the forest shadows travell'd 

Slowly o'er the lea. 

And the coolness of the evening 

Lingered but an hour away, 
When a daughter of Virginia 

On her death-couch lay. 

On her lip a smile was resting. 

Faith and love shone from her eye, 

Yet her longing spirit flutter'd 
For its home on high. 

Full before her open window 

Lay a wide extended plain ; 
Here the tassel'd corn was growing. 

There the ripening grain. 

Stately mansions in the distance 

Dimly she could just behold ; 
Nearer, fields and vaUeys cheqner'd 

With their green and gold. 

While she mused, familiar faces 
Cross'd the threshold of her door ; 

Soon beside her bed were standing 
Counsellors of yore. 

Loving were her tones of greeting. 

Gentle words replied, and then. 
In that dying woman's chamber. 

All was still again. 

Brief the pause ; and O how strangely 
Did the heavenly message sound, 

While she thus, in trembling accents. 
Spoke to those around 


• Friends, my days on earth are ended, 
The pale messenger is near, 

Yet his firm and sure approaches 
Move me not with fear ; 

' Still my faith remains unshaken, 
That, whate'er excuse we plead, 

To enslave a fellow-mortal 
Is a cruel deed ; 

' And the wrongs of Afric's children 
Yet will bring, in judgment, down, 

On the objects of his blessing, 
God's indignant frown !' 

Toward the scene that lay before her 
Then she waved her wasted hand, 

While she added, ' This fair garden — 
All this fruitful land — 

' Will become a desolation ; 

Its inhabitants will flee. 
And your fields an ample covert 

For the wolf wUl be, 

' Your deserted meeting-places 

Will become the fox's lair ; 
Bats and reptiles soon will revel 

Unmolested there.' 

Noble woman ! true and faithful 
AVere thy words of prophecy ; 

Shall the day of their fulfilling 
Pass unheeded by ? 

Through that once delightful region 
Spirit-like I seem to glide ; 

llow the footprints of oppression 
Mar its ancient pride ! 

Desolated habitations 

Slowly moulder into clay ; 
l/one, deserted, ruined churches 

Rise along my way. 



Clustering vines, and moss, and briers 
Grow amid their crumbling walls ; 

There, at eve, the gloomy night-bird 
To his fellow calls. 

O'er these hillsides, where the negro 
Tilled the soil in hopeless woe, 

Spreading woods and tangled thickets 
Uumolested grow. 

Break this sleep of death, Virginia, 

Up for liberty — be free ; 
Rise and burst the negro's prison, 

'Twill deliver thee. 

Here thy onlj- hope remaineth ; 

This hath power alone to save ; 
Rise, and, for thy own redemption. 

Disenthral the slave. 


In 1763, under gospel solicitude for the weKare 
of the Indians of Pennsylvania, John Church- 
man paid a religious visit to those residing about 
Wjomiug and Wehaloosing,on the Susquehanna 
river, nearly 200 miles from Philadelphia. In 
this visit he was drawn into near sympathy with 
these poor people, and qualified at times, by his 
Divine Master, to impart counsel and direct 
them to that unerring guide in the secret of the 
heart, which would lead all men, without dis- 
tinction of colour, to a saving knowledge of the 
Lord, their Maker and their Redeemer. He 
often spoke to them through interpreters ; but 
on one occasion, feeling his mind covered with 
the spirit of prayer, he expressed his willingness 



for them to omit interpreting. The meeting 
ended with feelings of solemnity; and before 
the people went away, one of the Indians who 
had been zealously labouring for a reformation 
among them, remarked to the interpreter, ' I 
love to feel where words come from ;' thus mani- 
festing, that though the language was foreign, 
yet there was a savour accompanying this 
heaven-prompted prayer, which, had met a sym- 
pathetic feeling in the mind of this simple child 
of the forest. 


That war, that horror of horrors, that system 
of murder, robbery, and every conceivable vil- 
lany rolled into one great gory abominatiou, 
should have been tolerated till now, spite of 
common sense and the sacred principles of re- 
ligion, is the most astonishing thing in the his- 
tory of man. It shows that, while the people 
can be deluded into a sanction of it, no feeling 
of its misery on the part of rulers will put a 
stop to it. They will drive us to their shambles ; 
they will still sell us, bone, and carcase, and 
skin, to the dealers in human flesh. It is for 
the people to put it down ; and they will put it 
down. It has been called ' the game of kings,' 
at which they play. But the people once en- 
lightened will cease to be the royal playthings. 
If kings or governments will much longer play 
at war, they must look out for fresh tools. Men 
now are fast learning that they are men ; that 



they have limbs and feelings, duties and re- 
sponsibilities, holy and eternal; and they will 
refuse to be murderers and assassins at the com- 
mand of any earthly authorities. They will not 
do it, they cannot do it; for knowledge has 
awoke conscience, and the feeling that man is 
not only the brother of man, but that these 
brothers are the sons of the God of order, 
beauty, peace, and love, is becoming clear, in 
the minds of the multitude, as the sun in 
heaven. New desires, new views, broad, and 
beautiful, and divine views of civilization, unity, 
increase of comfort and refinement, of mind re- 
sponding to mind, and heart to heart, all the 
world over, are spreading through the masses, 
and men can no longer listen to suggestions of 
bloodshed, of foreign carnage, lust, and rapine, 
but as to the suggestions of the devil. It can 
no longer be said of us, as a people, as it was 
said by Coleridge during the last great war, in 
verse which ought to be read at every fireside, 
and deeply imprinted in every human bosom — • 

Thankless for peace — 
Peace long preserved by fleets and perilous seas — 
Secure from actual warfare, we have loved 
To swell the war-whoop, passionate for war ! 
Alas I for ages ignorant of all 
Its ghastlier workings, famine, or blue plague. 
Battle, or siege, or flight through wintry snows. 
We, this whole people, have been clamorous 
For war and bloodshed ; animating sports, 
The which we pay for as a thing to talk of— 
Spectators, and not combatants ! No guess 
Anticipative of a wrong unfelt. 
No speculation on contingency. 



However dim and vague, too vague and dim 

To yield a justifying cause ; and forth — 

Stuffed out with big preamble, holy names, 

And adjurations of the God in heaven — 

We send our mandates for the certain death 

Of thousands and tens of thousands ! Boys and girls. 

And women, that would groan to see a child 

Pull off an insect's leg, all read of war, 

The best amusement for our morning meal I 

The poor wretch who has learnt his only prayers 

From curses, who knows scarcely words enough 

To ask a blessing from his heavenly Father, 

Becomes a fluent pliraseman, absolute 

And technical in victories and defeats, 

And all our dainty terms for fratricide ; 

Terms which we trundle smoothly o'er our tongues 

Like mere abstractions, empty sounds to which 

We join no feeling and attach no form ! 

As if the soldier died without a wound ; 

As if the fibres of this god-like frame 

Were gored ivithout a pang ; as if the wretch 

Who fell in batlle, doing bloody deeds. 

Passed off to heaven, translated, and not killed ; 

As though he had no wife to pine for him. 

No God to judge him .' 

We cannot now, thank Heaven, say that of 
the people of England. There is nothing that 
shows more strikingly the advance society is 
making than this fact ; and we trust that no 
power of sophistry will ever be able again to 
kindle a war-spirit amongst us. 

But we cannot yet ponder too often or deeply 
the impressive words of Coleridge, just quoted. 
Let women, boys, and girls, that would groan 
to see a child pull off an insect's leg, more and 
more reflect that this god-like frame cannot be 
gored without a pang ; that the wretch who falls 



in battle, doing bloody deeds, does not pass off 
to heaven translated and not killed. That he 
has a God to judge him, and often a wife to 
pine for him. The more we look on this side 
of the awful question, the more we shall see our 
awful responsibilities, and into what horrors and 
responsibilities we thrust our fellow-men, not 
only when we encourge the spirit of slaughter, 
but every hour that we do not discourage it. — 
(Howitt's People's Journal.) 


William Penn was so greatly in favour with 
James II., that his influence at court was con- 
siderable, and he refused none of his friends 
any reasonable office he could do for them. 
' Hence,' observes Croese, 'his house and gates 
were daily thronged by a numerous train of 
clients and suppliants, desiring him to present 
their petitions to his majesty. There were 
sometimes there two hundred and more.' 


Christopher Bacon, of Pollinghill, in Somerset- 
shire, was formerly a soldier in the King's army. 
Going to a meeting of Friends, in 1656, not to 
receive good, but to scoff and to deride, he 
was, in the Lord's mercy, reached in his con- 
science, and afterwards became a zealous mini- 



ster amongst the sect he had despiseil, and 
many were convinced of the truth hj him. 

He was several times imprisoned lor his testi- 
mony, and his fourth confinement for tithes, in a 
very cold room in Bridgewater jail, broke his 
constitution, so that he lived but about three 
months after his discharge. ' He was,' says 
Whiting, ' a valiant man for the truth, and 
freely given up to suffer for it.' Being taken 
at a meeting at Glastonbury, he was had before 
Bishop Mew, at Wells, who reproached him, 
calling him rebel, &c., for meeting contrary to 
the king's laws. Christopher said to him, 'Dost 
thou call me rebel ? I would have thee to know 
I have jeoparded my life for the king, in the 
liigh places of the field, when such as thou lay 
behind the hedges.' — (Whiting's Memoirs.)' 


Aram was sitting at the door of his tent, under 
the shade of his fig-tree, when it came to pass 
that a man stricken in years, bearing a staff in 
his hand, journeyed that way. 

And it was noon-day, and Aram said to the 
stranger, ' Pass not by, I pray thee, but come 
in, and wash thy feet, and tarry hero until 
evening; for thou art stricken in years, and the 
heat overcometh thee.' And the stranger left 
his staff at the door, and entered into the tent 
of Aram ; and he rested himself. And Aram 
set before him bread, and cakes of fine meal 

IV. I> 



baked upon the hearth. And Aram blessed the 
bread, calling upon the name of the Lord ; but 
the stranger did eat, and refused to pray unto 
the Most High, saying, ' Thy Lord is not the God 
of my fathers, why, therefore, should I present 
my vows unto him?' And Aram's wrath was 
kindled, and he called his servants, and they 
beat the stranger, and they drove him into the 
wilderness. Now, in the evening, Aram lifted 
up his voice unto the Lord, and prayed unto 
him. And the Lord said, ' Aram, where is the 
stranger that sojourned this day with thee ?' 
And Aram answered and said, ' Behold, 0 Lord, 
he ate of thy bread, and would not offer unto 
thee his prayers and thanksgivings, therefore 
did I chastise him, and drive him from before 
me into the wilderness.' And the Lord said to 
Aram, ' Who hath made thee a judge between 
me and him ; have not I borne with thine ini- 
quities, and winked at thy backslidings, and 
shalt thou be severe with thy brother, to mark 
his errors, and to punish his perverseness ? 
Arise, and follow the stranger, and carry with 
thee oil and wine, and anoint his bruises, and 
speak kindly unto him ; for I, the Lord thy 
God, am a jealous God, and judgment belong- 
eth only to me. Vain is thine oblation of 
thanksgiving, without a lowly heart. As a bul- 
rush thou mayst bow down thine head, and lift 
up thy voice like a trumpet, but thou obeyest 
not the ordinance of thy God if thy worship be 
for strife and debate. Behold the sacrifice that 
I have chosen ; is it not to undo the heavy 



burdens, and let the oppressed go free, and to 
break every yoke ? to deal thy bread to the 
hungry, and to bring the poor that are cast out 
into thy house ?' 

And Aram trembled before the presence of 
God, and he arose, and put on sackcloth and 
ashes, and went out into the wilderness, to do 
as the Lord had commanded him. — (Percival.) 


WnEN one who holds communion with the skies, 
Has filled his urn where the pure waters rise, 
And once more mingles with us meaner things, 
'Tis e'en as if an angel shook his wings ; 
Immortal fragi-ance fills the circuit wide, 
And tells us where his treasure is supplied. 



Many things in the world are necessarily inter- 
mitted, because they are tied to place or times ; 
all places, all times are not convenient for 
them ; but in case of prayer it is otherwise, it 
seeks no place, it attends no time. It is not 
necessary we should come to the church, or 
expect a sabbath or an holiday ; for prayer, 
indeed, especially was the sabbath ordained, yet 
prayer is left Sabbathless, and admits no rest, 
no intermission at all : if our hearts be clean, 
we must, as our apostle commands us, lift them 
up everywhere at all times, and make every place 
a church, every day a sabbath, every hour can- 




oiiical. As you go to the market, as you stand 
in the streets, as you walk in the fields, in all 
these places ye may pray as well, and with as 
good acceptance, as in the church. For you 
yourselves are temples of the Holy Ghost, if 
the grace of God be in you, more precious than 
any of those which are made with hands. — 
(Golden Memains of the ever-memorable John Hale, 
from his sermon on Luke xviii. 1.) 


'While I was in Cornwall, there were great ship- 
wrecks about the Land's End. It was the cus- 
tom of that country, at such a time, both rich 
and poor went out to get as much of the wreck 
as they could, not caring to save the people's 
lives ; and in some parts of the country they 
called shipwrecks God's grace. It grieved my 
spirit to hear of such unchristian actions ; con- 
sidering how far they were below the heathen 
at Melita. Wherefore I was moved to write a 
paper and send it to all the parish priests and 
magistrates, to reprove them for such greedy 
actions.' The paper occupies a page and a half 
in folio, and he says of it, 'This paper had good 
service among people, and Friends have endea- 
voured much to save the lives of men in time 
of wrecks, and to preserve the ships and goods 



for them. And when some who suffered ship, 
wreck have been almost dead and starved, 
Friends have taken them to their houses to 
succour and recover them, which is an act to 
be practised bj all true Christians.' — {Journal, 
p. 292-298.) 


About the beginning of 1660, George Fox visited 
Bristol, and afterwards held large general meet- 
ings, one near that city, another at Balby, and 
a third at Skipton, Yorkshire. 

The last is said in the Journal to be 'a meet- 
ing of men Friends out of many counties, about 
business relating to the church, both in this 
nation and beyond the seas. Several years be- 
fore,' he adds, 'when I was in the north, I was 
moved to recommend to Friends the setting up 
of this meeting for that service ; for many 
Friends suffered in divers parts of the nation, 
their goods were taken from them contrary to 
law, and they understood not how to help them- 
selves, or where to seek redress. But after 
this meeting was set up, several Friends who 
had been magistrates, and others who under- 
stood something of the law, came thither, and 
were able to inform Friends, and assist them 
in gathering up the sufferings, that they might 
be laid before the justices, judges, or parlia- 
ment. This meeting had stood several years, 
and divers justices and captains had come to 




break it up ; but wheu tliey understood the 
business Friends met about [especially that 
relating to the care of the poor] they passed 
away peaceably.' Here we Jiave the rudiments of 
the Yearly Meeting and Meeting for Silverings 
now held in London. 


Time is precious, but its value is unknown to 
us ; we shall attain this knowledge when we can 
no longer profit by it ; our friends require it of 
us as if it were nothing, and we give it to them 
in the same manner ; it is often a burthen to 
lis, we know not what to do with it, and are 
embarrassed about it. 

The day will conic, when a quarter of an 
hour will appear of more value and more desir- 
able than all the riches of the universe. God, 
who is liberal and generous in all his other 
gifts, teaches us, by the wise economy of his 
providence, how circumspect we ought to be in 
the right management of our time ; for he never 
gives us two moments together ; he gives us 
only the second as he takes away the first, and 
keeps the third in his hands, leaving us in an 
absolute uncertainty whether it shall ever be 
ours or not. Time is given us tliat we may 
take care of eternity, and eternity will not be 
too long to regret the loss of our time, if we 
have misspent it. — (Leadbetter's Extracts.) 




When William Allen aud Stephen Grellet were 
travelliug on the Continent, in 1816, visiting- 
prisons, hospitals, and other public institutions, 
they remained about a week at Pjrmoiit. 
They were much concerned to find, that, from 
some apparently trifling causes, the harmony of 
the little company of Friends there had been 
much disturbed ; a root of bitterness had been 
implanted, and in some minds had sprung up, 
so as to cause much trouble. William Allen 
believed it right to have a private interview 
with the individuals concerned. Of this occa- 
sion he makes the following memorandum — 

On meeting them, I was under much concern 
of miud, being thus alone, with so weighty a 
work on my hands ; but my secret petitions 
were fervent, that I might be favoured with 
Divine help ; aud that, if I could do no good, 1 
might, at least, be prevented from doing any 
harm. After a little time of silence, 1 addressed 
them under a feeling of love and sweetness, that 
I have not often experienced, and had humbly to 
believe that my request was granted. I desired 
that they would state what it was that had 
grieved any of them, with respect to the con- 
duct of a brother or a sister. Some free com- 
munications passed, with explanations that 
tended to reconciliation ; the cause of offence 
seemed chiefly to rest with two individuals. 
After a pause, 1 addressed these persons, re- 
minding them that they were both much ad- 


vanced in years, and in the common course of 
nature, verging towards that state, in which it 
would be felt extremely desirable to them to be 
rid of this burden. They then embraced each 
other, and most present burst into tears ; it 
was indeed a heart-touching scene, and, I be- 
lieve, deeply felt by every one as a memorable 
time ; all present parted with appearance of 
much love and tenderness. 


Playford Hall, Suffolk, England, 
May 24, 1816- 

I HAD the honour of receiving your Majesty's 
letter, dated at Palace of Sans Souci, Feb. 5, 
which was brought to me by Mr. Prince San- 
ders ; and it is my intention to return an an- 
swer to it by the same person, as well as to 
enter into some particulars which I think may 
be acceptable to you. 

Having, however, heard that my esteemed 
friend, Mr. Stephen GrcUet, who is a minister 
of the gospel belonging to the religious Society 
of the people called Quakers, and who is now 
in North America, intends, with other ministers 
of the same Society, to visit some of the Eng- 
lish West Indian Islands, and also Hayti, for 
the purpose of preaching the gospel for a season 
in those parts, I have thought it proper to send 
you this letter by him, in order that he may 
not go into your island without a suitable in- 



I am sensible how vigilant it becomes jou to be 
in respect to strangers, some of whom may possi- 
bly visit Hayti for the purpose of plotting against 
its liberty and independence. And it is my 
belief that such cases may exist, which induces 
me to lay before you the character of Mr. Grel- 
let and his friends, in order that they may come 
among you without suspicion ; and that they 
may experience the protection which all those 
persons ought to find who feel it their duty, like 
the apostles of old, to visit foreign climates, and 
to hazard their lives for the sake of promoting 
the religion of Jesus Christ. 

I will begin, then, with informing you, that 
Mr. Grellet was born in France, but that he 
left his country during the Revolution, and 
went to the United States of America, where 
he embraced the principles of the religious So- 
ciety of the Friends, or, as they are most com- 
monly called, Quakers, After this he became a 
miuister of the gospel in that Society; and iu 
this capacity he visited England, Germany, and 
France. During his stay in London, for many 
months, I had the happiness of knowing him. 
It also happened, during his stay there, that 
his Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of Russia, 
arrived in England ; Mr. Grellet had the Iion- 
our of an audience with that noble and august 
personage, and I know that he advocated, before 
lam, the cause of all the injured children of 

As to Mr. Grellet's private character, I may 
comprehend it in a few words, by saying, that 



he dailj affords, in his own person, a proof of 
modest J, humility, charity, and those other vir- 
tues which belong to the Christian character. 

Having said thus much of this estimable per- 
son, I feel myself bound to say a few words on 
behalf of the religious Society to which he be- 
longs, for it is possible he may have companions 
with him, and it is right that your majesty 
should know some of the civil and political 
principles of the Quakers. 

In the first place, they consider it to be their 
duty to obey civil magistrates, as the rulers 
under God for good, except in those religious 
customs and cases where their consciences 
would be wounded by it. 

In the second place, they conceive it to be 
their duty never to go to war, or take up ai-ms 
even in their own defence ; they had rather sub- 
mit to the most cruel injuries, than shed the 
blood of any of their fellow-creatures. Hence 
there is no rebellion, no insurrection, no plotting 
against Government, wherever the Quakers are. 

And thirdly, they have long ago conceived it 
to be their duty to consider all the children of 
Africa as their brethren, and to have no con- 
cern whatever, either in buying or selling, or in 
holding them in bondage. In all America, 
there is not one Quaker whose character is 
stained by such inhuman practices. 

The abolition of tlie slave ti-ade, and of slavery 
also, has become a principle, and has been in- 
corporated as such into their religion. I could 
dwell here, if the time would permit, with the 



greatest delight; and I ought to add, with the 
greatest gratitude, oa this part of their char- 

Thej have been the constant fellow-labourers, 
iu England, of Mr. Wilberforce aftd myself in 
this great and noble cause, from the first mo- 
ment in which we ourselves embarked in it; and 
in North America they have equally supported 
it : indeed they have been the original instru- 
ments of effecting whatever has been done, in 
that country, on behalf of the injured Africans 
and their descendants. In fact, whenever you see 
a Quaker, you see a friend to the distressed, but 
more especially to those of the African race. And 
I cannot doubt, therefore, that every Quaker 
will experience your Majesty's kind protection 
and regard; but more particularly when he 
comes to you, not for the purpose of commerce, 
but as a promoter of the interests of religion. 

I shall only add to this account, that the 
Quakers are, in many respects, a singular peo- 
ple. They are singular in their language, dress, 
and customs. They have laid aside the usual 
ceremonies and formalities of the world, in 
saluting or addressing themselves to others. 

Some years ago I wrote their history, and if 
Ml-. Grellet should receive this letter in time, 
he will probably present your Majesty with a 
copy. I am your Majesty's friend, 

Thomas Clarkson. 

P.S. The above is the copy of a letter which 
I sent last week, enclosed to my friend Mr. 



Stephen Grellet, tliat he might deliver it, with 
his own hand, to your Mcojesty; but having just 
heard that it is probable that Mr. Grellet may 
have left America for Ilayti before he receives 
it, I have thought it right to send this copy 
immediately to yourself, in order that it may 
be known to your Majesty who he is, should he 
come without my first letter. 


Palace of Sans Souci, Koi\ 18, 181 G, 
and I3th year of Independence. 


Sir, my friend, 
Your two letters, of the 10th of June and 16th 
of August, have reached me. They relate to 
Mr. Grellet, a minister of the gospel in connec- 
tion with the religious Society of the Quakers, 
and also to the principles of that inestimable 
Society, with which I am perfectly well ac- 

If Mr. Grellet and his companions should 
visit this country, I will not fail, according to 
your recommendation, to treat him with kind- 
ness, and to entertain for him the respect which 
is due to his own character, as well as to the 
consideration of his being your friend. I am 
delighted to hear that he is a friend to the 
Abolition of the Slave-trade, and to the un- 
happy Africans and their descendants. These 
sentiments, which indeed particularly distin- 
guish the Quakers, must ever ensure them my 
respect and esteem. I have received, with 



pleasui'e^ the History of the Quakers, whicli you 
sent me by Mr. Prince Sanders, and thank you 
for it with all my heart. Believe me, with the 
highest respect, and the most cordial friendsliip. 



Daughter of Richard and Elizabeth Marriott, 
of Mansfield, was a child religiously inclined, 
which was observed by her behaviour, especially 
in meetings. She was taken ill of a consump- 
tion in. the eighteenth year of her age; after 
some time, she went into Warwickshire, for 
change of air, to some relations there, but re- 
ceiving no benefit thereby, and finding herself 
declining, was very desirous to return home, 
that she might see her brothers and sisters be- 
fore she died ; accordingly it pleased the Lord 
to give her strength to accomplish it, to her 
own and her relations' great satisfaction. She 
came home in 11th month, 1732. The same 
evening, her heart being opened in the love of 
God to impart her mind to her sisters and those 
about her, she signified that she had had a 
weaning time from the M'orld, and that she saw 
nothing engaging in it but the company of her 
relations ; she also expressed what an exercising 
time she had witnessed when at Coventry, for 
want of the presence of the Lord, which he had 
withdrawn from her a little time ; and that 
although she had never been guilty of anything 
that was bad, yet she found little things hard 

IV. E 


enough to get over, but now could speak of the 
goodness of the Lord to her. She said he had 
been good to her many ways, and that nothing 
stood in her way, for which she praised his holy 
name, in a sweet heavenly frame of mind, being 
resigned to his will, and so continued those 
few days she was with us ; in which time she 
gave good exhortation to her sisters, as that 
they might be careful what company they kept, 
and to avoid all such as are light and airy, which 
draws the mind further from God, but rather 
to choose the company of such as are religious ; 
and also to avoid the reading of all vain and 
unprofitable books, which tend to corrupt the 
minds of youth, but charged them to read the 
Holy Scriptures, and such books as promote 
godliness ; and desired they would be watchful 
against sleeping in religious meetings, and she 
set forth the evil of it ; as also singing of songs, 
warning them against it; and further added 
she hoped they would remember her words when 
she was gone. Speaking of the visitation of 
God to her very early, she said, ' I heard his 
call before I knew what it was.' 

About twelve hours before her death, being 
up in her chair, she desired her relatives might 
have a little meeting with her, in which time 
she was in a solid retired frame of mind, much 
desiring she might have an easy passage out of 
this life, which was granted her to all appear- 
ance. She all along continued very sensible, 
and was not attended with those pains which are 
usual, but lay breathing in spirit to the Lord ; 


and, a few hours before lier departure, slie de- 
sired her love might be remembered to all her 
relations and friends, and to all that asked after 
her ; and that her father and mother might give 
her up to the Lord, desiring to be resigned to 
the will of him that gave her being. She de- 
parted this life the 12th of the eleventh month, 
1732, aged eighteen years. 



' But now he is dead, wherefore should I fast ? Can I 
bring him bacli again V 

These remarks against mourning appai'el are 
submitted with the sincerest kindness towards 
the afflicted. These trappings of grief seem in- 
different and childish where there is real grief, 
and where there is not, they are mockery. The 
principal objections against the custom of wear- 
ing mourning apparel are, that it is useless, 
inconvenient, and expensive. 

For what use does it serve ? To remind me 
that 1 am in affliction. I do not wish that to be 
pointed out. Shall the sable garb be adopted, 
then, because it is grateful to my feelings — be- 
cause it is a kind of solace to me ? I can gain 
no consolation from it. 

But if the custom is useless, its inconvenience 
forms a still greater objection. It is incon- 
venient, because it throws the care of purchasing 
and making clothes upon a family, at the very 




moment when, on every occasion, it most needs 
seclusion and quietness ; when worn out with 
care, and watching, and sorrow, and it needs 
retirement and relief. There is a shocking un- 
seemliness, I had almost said a sacrilege, in 
turning the house of death into a shop for the 
dressmakers ! Who that ever witnessed what 
is passing on one of these occasions, who, that 
has seen the broken-hearted victims of affliction 
brought forth to be dressed up as pageants, and 
harassed into inquiries about mourning gowns 
and bonnets, or heard, intermingled with their 
sighs and tears, paltry and vain discussions about 
the adjustment of mourning caps and ribbons — 
who, I say, has not felt this inconvenient, ill- 
timed, and unbecoming, beyond what any force 
of language can express ! 

But the greatest objection, after all, to the 
use of mourning apparel, is the expense. That 
the expense presses heavily upon the poor, is a 
matter very well known, and, I believe, very 
generally regretted. But this is not all, it 
presses heavily upon the community. None but 
the opulent, in fact, can afford it. Tliere are 
few families in the country with whom the ex- 
pense of mourning apparel does not form a bur- 
densome addition to the bills of the merchant. 
Besides this, this is the most expensive kind of 
apparel ; and there is always on these occa- 
sions, from haste and natural improvidence 
of au afflicted mind about worldly things, a 
great deal of extravagance and waste. And, 
more than all, this expense comes at a time 



wheii, of all times, it can be least borue. It 
comes in addition to all the expenses of sickness, 
the paying of attendants, and the charges of the 
physician. It comes, perhaps, when the main 
support and reliance of the family is taken 
away. When the husband, the father, the pro- 
vider, is cut olf, when he has departed from the 
world with no feeling of distress so deep as that 
he was to leave destitute those who were dearer 
to him than life, then it is that the desolate and 
deprived, under a false notion of showing respect 
to him, arc obliged, by the custom of society, 
to abridge the already narrow means on which 
they have to rely. How many are the cases 
in which a considerable portion, and even the 
whole of what remains for the widow and the 
fatherless is expended, not in providing for their 
wants, but in merely arraying them for their 
desolate condition. — (Brook's Daily Monitor.) 


When we turn over the pages of the history of 
our religious society, and read the account of 
its early days, wc cannot but admire the beauty 
of its pi'inciples. Holding the grand doctrine 
of the immediate teachings of Christ by his 
Spirit, its early members were led to separate 
themselves from the vain fashions and customs 
of the world ; as also from the prevailing and 
formal mode of worship. Not only were they 
led to wait in reverence before the Lord, in 

E 3 



their public assemblies, thus testifying to others 
their entire allegiance to Jesus ; — but also to 
seek his guidance in their daily walk among 
men, and to carry out their knowledge of his 
will, in simplicity of life and conversation. 
Thus abiding in his strength, they became a 
brave living people. They were as lights in 
the world, and many, very many, flocked around 
the standard, which they so nobly upheld. The 
language was truly applicable—' This people 
have I formed for myself, they shall show forth 
my praise.' 

Contrasting these days with the present 
aspect of our Society, our hearts are filled as 
with mourning and lamentation. That Society, 
which was once the glory of the church, how 
is it degenerated ! And is it not for want of 
following on in the same path of simple obe- 
dience ? My chief inducement in now taking up 
my pen, is to endeavour to bring before my 
young friends especially, the great want of 
faithfulness iu our important, well-known testi- 
mony to plainness of speech, behaviour, and 
apparel. We ought not to lay too great sti'css 
on our apparel or our language, but we ought 
to lay stress on obedience and faithfulness, to 
that which we profess. In the account of the 
cruel sufferings of our early Friends for these 
things, we see plainly that thcr/ were laid upon 
them of the Lord. In the midst of their perse- 
cutions, they were upheld by him. A reference 
to the Sermon on the Mount, will plainly show 
the simplicity of behaviour and apparel which 



our blessed Lord enjoins ; — and his gracious 
words are : ' Ye are mj friends, if jou do what- 
soever I command you.' It is greatly to be 
feared that the real cause of the declension of 
many among us, is the fear of reproach — the 
fear of the world's dread laugh. O ! dear 
Friends, remember the terms of discipleship : 
' If any man will come after me, let him take 
up his ' daily ' cross and follow me. ' How instruc- 
tive is the example of Moses ; he is described 
as ' choosing rather to sufer affliction with the 
people of God, than to enjoy the pleasures of 
sin for a season — esteeming the reproach of 
Christ greater riches than the treasures of 
Egypt.' But, 0! this reproach of Christ! 
What! my Friends, will a double-minded course 
of conduct please him ? Will it please him to 
change the garb for fear of his reproach ? Will 
it please him, who seeth all things, to say thou, 
to our Friends, and you, to the world — to be 
one thing in our meeting-houses, and another 
thing in our counting-houses ? Is it not said, 
' He that knew his master's will, and did it not, 
shall be beaten with many stripes?' How do 
I desire for every one of us, that we might give 
these things our candid and prayerful considera- 
tion ; that, under a deep sense of the state of 
our Society, we might inquire, is it I ? What 
part have I in the declensions amongst us ? 
May we be in right earnest to do our part for 
its improvement, earnestly desiring of the Lord 
that he would enable us to do his will, walking 
in humility before him. Surely the Lord would 


bless us. '0 ! that thou hadst hearkened to my 
commandments, then had thj peace been as a 
river, and thy righteousness as the waves of the 
sea.' Have we not abundant cause to believe, 
that the Lord is yet watching over us to do us 
good — that he is waiting to gather us ? Poor 
and fallen as we are, is he not even yet near iu 
our solemn assemblies, and does he not qualify 
his ministers to sing his praise ? so that it may 
even now be said, at seasons, the shout of a 
king is heard in the camp. Let us then I'eturn 
to the good old way, that a revival may take 
place amongst us ; that we yet be a brave living 
people, to our Saviour's praise — that, waiting 
day by day, in simple obedience and living faith, 
before him, our sons may become as plants 
grown up in their youth, and our daughters as 
corner stones polished after the similitude of a 
palace — that we may all ' go on from strength 
to strength, till every one appear in Zion before 

' Happy is the people that is in such a case ; 
yea, happy is that people whose God is the 


Deborah Wynn had a religious education, and 
was favoured with the visitation of truth in 
early life ; and, by giving up to the manifesta- 
tion thereof, she came to experience the work 
of its power in her heart, and by being obedient 
thereto, attained to a degree of settlement in 



the truth when young, which prepared her to 
undergo those trials and exercises, which earlj 
began to fall to her lot; for about the 16tli year 
of her age, her father and mother were both 
carried prisoners to York, for the testimony of 
a good conscience towards God. She being 
their only child, the management of their trade 
and business fell under her care ; and, during 
their imprisonment, siie travelled to York, 
twenty-two miles, on foot, once in two weeks, to 
visit them, and to csLvry them what money she 
had got for their support. Being a young 
woman sincere in heart to God, and, through 
his grace, faithful to the truth, she grew in ex- 
perience, and, about the 18th year of her age, 
she was concerned to bear a public testimony 
in meetings, to the comfort and edification of 
Friends. She was afterwards married to John 
Wynn ; and, being both ministers, and the 
meeting in its course held at their house, heavy 
sufferings fell to their share, in the times of 
tlie informers, who stripped them three several 
times of all their outward substance that was 
valuable ; for such was the cruelty of the perse- 
cutors and informers of those days, that at one 
of the times mentioned, she was lying-in, in 
child-bed, and they went to take her bed from 
under her ; but the neighbouring women, ab- 
horring the inhumanity of such an attempt, 
interrupted their design, and would not suffer 
it ; but they i-ansacked the room, and took what 
they could lay their hands on. Their avarice 
not yet being satisfied, they met hor husband 



in the street as they ■went away, Avbo had been 
at a neighbouring market, and was driving be- 
fore him his horse, with the goods on his back, 
and his riding-coat upon the pack, all which 
they seized and took away with the rest of the 
plunder. Being thus deprived of his horse, 
pack, and coat, he came home, and found his 
shop stripped of the goods, and the house of the 
furniture, that he had neither chair nor stool to 
sit down upon to rest him, until some of his 
kind neighbours, whom he found there bemoan- 
ing this unchristian usage, went and brought 
him in some one thing, and some another, for 
their present use, until they could provide fur- 
niture of their own for their necessary accom- 
modation ; and afterwards some of the inhabit- 
ants of the town hearing of his intention of 
buying more goods to carry on his trade, came 
to him, and earnestly entreated him to buy no 
more, for he might see they were resolved to 
ruin him. He told them he was not at all dis- 
couraged, he had a little money left, and in- 
tended to lay it out for goods as far as it would 
go, and if they took them from him also, they 
could have no more than all, but he believed 
they would be limited in the Lord's time ; which 
came to pass accordingly. And as they retained 
their integrity, and stood faithful to truth's tes- 
timony, they were favoured of the Lord to sur- 
mount all the difficulties their great sufferings 
brought upon them. — (Leadbetter's Extracts.) 



' Freely ye have received, freely give.' — Matt. x. 8. 

In one place George Fox visited, in Yorkshire, 
he mentions being well received by Justice 
Hotham, who was so deeply struck by the simple 
eloquence witli which he advocated the cause 
of truth, that he much wished to have sent for 
some of tlie neighbouring ministers to discourse 
with him ; but this George Fox would not agree 
to, preferi'ing to act, as he believed liimself at 
the moment directed. A curious incident re- 
sulting from sucli an impression, is very charac- 
teristic of his mode of plain dealing. It occurred 
whilst staying with Justice Hotham, at Cran- 
stick, in Yorkshire : — In the afternoon, on a 
First day, I went to another steeple-house, he 
says, about three miles off, where preached a 
great high priest, called a doctor, being one of 
them whom Justice Hotham would have sent 
for to have spoken with me. So I went into 
the steeple-house, and staid till the priest had 
done. Now the words which he took for his 
text were these—' Ho, every one that tliirsteth, 
come ye to the waters, and he that hath no 
money ; come ye, buy, and eat ; yea, come, buy 
wine and milk without money and without 
price.' Then I was moved of the Lord God to 
say unto him. Come down, thou deceiver ! Dost 
thou bid people come freely, and take of the 
water of life freely, and yet thou takest £300 
a year of them ? Mayest thou not blush for 



shame ? Did the prophet Isaiah, and Christ 
do so, who spake tlie words and gave them fortli 
freely ? Did not Christ say to his ministers 
whom he sent to preach, ' Freely ye have re- 
ceived, freely give ? ' So the priest, like a man 
amazed, hastened away, and after he was gone, 
and had left his flock, I had as much time as 
I could desire to speak to the people. — (Kelty's 
Early Friends.) 


There is more satisfaction in doing than i-eceiv- 
ing good. To relieve the oppressed is the most 
glorious act a man is capable of ; it is in some 
measure doing the business of God and Provid- 
ence, and is attended with a heavenly pleasure, 
unknown but to those that are beneficent and 
liberal. — (Holt's Extracts.) 


My heart deceives me greatly, if I have not a 
high veneration, and sincere love for all good 
people, however they differ from one another or 
myself. The marks of goodness indeed I have 
always looked for, in the temper and conduct, 
and where these fail, the author of my religion 
hath taught me to pronounce all other pretences 
vain and delusive. — (Caspipini.) 




A FEW years ago, Robert and Phebe Alsop were 
from home on religious service, and they had 
several public meetings in the county of Essex. 
At one village, a barn was provided and fitted 
up, and notice given of the intended meeting ; 
which, coming to the ears of the Parson, he 
took the opportunity, at his next public service, 
which happened to intervene, to inveigh against 
this intrusion of our Friends, he being the ap- 
pointed minister, and the spiritual and sufficient 
guide of his parishioners, without any inter- 
ference from those who were very likely to lead 
his flock astray ; and he, having a great regard 
for the spiritual interest of his people, affection- 
ately cautioned them against going to the Con- 
venticle, about to be held in the aforesaid barn, 
&c. This public announcement of the meeting 
operated as a most efi"ectual advertisement ; and 
accordingly, at the time appointed, the barn was 
filled to overflowing. A solemn and satisfac- 
tory meeting was held, and our Friends were 
both largely engaged in the exercise of their 
gifts in the ministry, to an attentive audience ; 
many of whom, after the meeting had con- 
cluded, manifested their entire satisfaction and 
concurrence with the doctrines which had been 
delivered ; crowding around to take an affec- 
tionate farewell, and to express their gratitude 
for the opportunity which had been afforded 




A SERIOUS Christian once asked a great back- 
slider whether he had really found more satis- 
faction in the indulgence of his lusts, and the 
full swing of carnal pleasure, than he before 
had done in the profession of -the gospel, and in 
the hours lie had formerly spent for God. He 
honestly replied he had not : and that, so far 
from being happy, he was not even untormeuted, 
except in a state of intoxicated dissipation. It 
pleased God to restore him again, but not with- 
out such bitterness of soul as all the mad pleas- 
ures he had pursued were but a poor compen- 
sation to him for. 

To what a wretched state does sin reduce 
men ; that they must commit one sin in order 
to banish the reflection of the effects of another. 

It is recorded of Marius, that after his over- 
throw by Sylla, he was always in consternation, 
as if he heard the sound of the trumpets, and 
the noise of the victorious army pursuing him. 
And his fears were no longer quiet than whilst 
charmed with wine or sleep ; he therefore was 
continually intoxicated, that he might forget 
himself, his enemy, and his danger. Thus men 
make a pitiful shift to forget their latter end, 
and, whilst they are following either secular 
affaii's or sensual pleasures, are unconcerned 
for what is to be hereafter. 




The following remarks are extracted from a 
dedication and prefatory discourse to a volume 
of Sermons, bj Thomas Hartley, rector of Win- 
wick, Northamptonshire, printed in 1755, and 
dedicated to Selina, Countess of Huntingdon. 
This is probably the individual alluded to by our 
Friend Samuel Scott, in liis Diary, pp. 31, 96, 
137. The sentiments of the writer are remark- 
ably free from sectarian feeling. Some of his 
views are open to objection ; but even these, he 
informs his hearers, will be of no avail, unless 
the spiritual nature and import of them are ex- 
pei'ienced — 

' The narrowness that is observable in many 
Chi-istians (who, in other respects, are of good 
report) towards such as differ from them in 
some particular points of doctrine or modes of 
worship, is not only a great hinderance to their 
perfection, but also a very unhappy blemish in 
the beauty of holiness, and owing chiefly to 
their resting in the outward courts of the tem- 
ple, and not entering into that which is within 
the vail ; for the more spiritual any person is, 
the more diffusive of benevolence and charity 
is the heart of such an one towards all the 
members of Chi"ist's mystical body. 

'The gospel of Christ is a dispensation of 
peace, graciously calculated to reconcile us both 
to God and one another ; but how it has failed 
in general of these blessed effbcts, through the 
pi'evailing power of corruption and sin, let the 

I- 2 



annals of church history testify, wliich inform 
us how ofteu Christendom has been turned into 
a field of blood, and represent the horrid bar- 
barities of Christians, so called, towards their 
brethren, as equalling, and, in some instances, 
exceeding the tyrannous hatred of persecuting 
heathens : and therefore all those prophecies, 
which foretell the peaceable happy state of 
Christ's church on earth, suifer violence when 
expounded, as already fulfilled ; the outward 
establishment of Christianity has, in no suffi- 
cient sense, yet answered the glorious descrip- 
tion, and, consequently, they must refer to some 
future joyful time, when men shall not only live 
safe under the profession, but also in the tem- 
per and spirit of the gospel; then, and not till 
then, shall nation cease to lift up sword against 
nation, and they that are called by the holy 
name, depart from iniquity, and love as brethren. 

' The bloody sword of persecution hath indeed, 
for some time, slept in its scabbard, but the 
spirit of it neither slumbereth nor sleepeth: the 
animosities that prevail among the several di- 
vided parties of Christians in the world, are an 
indubitable proof of this ; nor can we hesitate 
to pronounce that they have war in their hearts, 
wliilst they sharpen their tongues like a serpent, 
and shoot out their arrows, even bitter words. 
If we go to and fro among the outward churches 
of Christendom, and fix our attention on the 
wrangling disputes of the learned, and the bigot- 
ted zeal of the ignorant multitudes, instead of 
saying, 'Lo, here is Christ; or, Lo, there !' we 



shall be tempted to saj, that he is neither here 
uor there, but that the whole is a Babel of con- 
tention, and that were the emblematic dove 
sent forth from the ark of God amongst us, she 
would find little rest for the sole of her foot ; 
naj, to such a height have the waters of strife 
prevailed, as scarcely to afford her an olive 
branch for a token of peace upon the earth. 
Now where envy and strife is, there is not only 
confusion, but every evil work ; wickedness in 
high places, and wickedness in low. 

' Great pains and much invention have been 
employed, by authors of different persuasions, 
to fix the character of antichrist on this or that 
particular church. Some of our own, learnedly 
wise in their exposition of the Apocalypse, have 
fancied that this mystery of iniquity, in every 
limb and feature, is exactly and singly pour- 
trayed in the bishop of Rome ; and some among 
the weaker of the Protestant Dissenters, led by 
an educational prejudice against Episcopacy, 
have divided the hoof, and given one half to 
the church of Rome, and the other to the 
Church of England; not knowing that Anti- 
christ has no more to do with the hierarchical 
than with any other form of church government; 
that he is not confined to any particular char- 
acters, places, or churches, but hath set his foot 
on the breadth of the whole earth, and erects 
his throne as easily in a synod of presbyters 
as in a consistory of cardinals. For wlierever 
there is a thirst after earthly dominion, or the 
exercise of tyrannical power over men's con- 



sciences ; wlierever the same hands that deal 
out the mystical body and blood of Christ, are 
defiled with the wages of unrighteousness ; 
wherever those hearts which should bo temples of 
the living God, and bear the image and super- 
scription of the humble Jesus, are exalted iu 
pride above their brethren ; wherever anything 
that is iu man, or can be of man, usurps the 
place of Christ, and robs him of any part of the 
honour of our salvation ; and lastly, wherever 
persecution holds out her bloody flag for the 
ravening wolves to hunt and devour the harm- 
less sheep of Christ; whether this be at Rome 
or Geneva, among Papists, Lutherans, Calvin- 
ists or others, there abomination sitteth in the 
holy place, there Cain smiteth Abel, there 
Antichrist lifts up his horn.' 


AND 16tH of 6th MONTH, 1844. 

The Manchester was the vessel in which Wil- 
liam Backhouse, of Darlington, was to have 
embarked on his intended religious visit to 
Norway, with his nephew, Edward Backhouse, 
jun., as companion. 

John Dudley, son of Sheldon and Elizabeth 
Dudley, was born at Roscrea, in the county of 
Tipperary, Ireland. In early life he was of a very 
clieerful disposition, always ready to enter into 



youthful enjoyments with his brothers, sisters, 
and a large circle of young friends. When 
quite a young man, he had a desire to take 
a sea voyage, which his parents assented to, 
thinking that it might have the effect of causing 
him to decline pursuing a course of life attended 
with so many dangers and jirivations, but their 
expectations were not realized. The effect of 
this first voyage was to fix his choice of that 
line of life, and the bent of his mind being 
very strong towards it, he was placed under the 
care and instruction of Captain Bodell, who, it 
is believed, was a native of Whitehaven, and 
was also a member of the Society of Friends. 

After being a sufiicient time with Captain B. 
to gain a proper knowledge of nautical affairs, 
John Dudley was variously engaged in different 
sailing vessels, and went several voyages to New 
York. In that city, he had the privilege of 
enjoying the society of some of his relations ; 
his father's brother, Edward Dudley, liaving, 
some years previously, gone to reside in New 
York, and had a numerous family of children 
and grandchildren. Being a young man of an 
open and affectionate disposition, John Dudley, 
as might be expected, was a great favourite with 
his relatives and friends. 

In course of time, lie was engaged, by tlie 
►St. Grcorge Steam Packet Company, as first 
mate, or chief officer, in one of their large 
steam.vessels, that traded between London and 
Cork. As lie then visited London every fort- 
night, he liad much more opportunity of being 



ill the society of his familj connections, than 
had been the case for several years before ; his 
mother, now a widow, to whom he was a dutiful 
and affectionate son, having removed with her 
family from Ireland to Peckham, near London. 
He also occasionally found time to visit his 
sisters at Staines, where two of them are mar- 
ried and settled ; and truly glad they and their 
families were, whenever he could thus, for a 
sliort time, sojourn among them. 

When the St. George Steam Packet Com- 
pany fitted out their finest vessel, the Syrius, 
to cross the Atlantic, John Dudley was chosen 
as chief oflficer to Captain Roberts — who was 
afterwards lost in the President, with the whole 
of the passengers and crew — and they had the 
gratification of getting into New York a few 
hours before the Great Western; consequently, 
they had the credit of taking into that port the 
first steam-vessel that probably ever had sailed 
from England to America. 

Subsequently, our Friend got the appointment 
of captain to a steam-vessel that sailed from 
Hull to Gottenberg, in Sweden. He afterwards 
commanded a vessel from Hamburgh to Ton- 
ningeu, in Denmark ; and his last appointment 
was to the command of the Manchester, a 
large steam-vessel that traded between Ham- 
burgh and Hull. 

In the winter of 1843-1844, John Dudley 
was laid up in Hamburgh with a very severe 
illness, which nearly cost him his life ; but which 
illness we may trust was sent in mercy, to turn 



his thoughts more decidedly towards heaven 
and heavenly things. In the spring of 1814, 
when sufficiently recovered, he resumed the 
command of his vessel, but it was only to make 
a few more voyages. 

On the 13th of 6th month, the day before his 
sailing from Hull the last time, in writing to his 
sister, he says, 'A very melancholy circumstance 
happened at Darlington, last First-day, during 
meeting, in the sudden death of William Back- 
house, a ministering Friend. He was to have 
gone with me, accompanied by his nephew, this 
next voyage to Hamburgh, on a religious visit 
to Norway ; their places were taken here on 
board by Joseph Sanderson. Alas ! it shows 
how little we can know what is before us, and 
how uncertain life is ; which ought to be a great 
cause of serious thoughtfulness.' 

How very soon indeed were these words veri- 
fied ; for, in three days afterwards, the vessel, 
with all on board, was lost. But his friends 
entei'tain the comforting hope that, though he 
was not permitted to reach the earthly port to 
which he was bound, yet that he has been safely 
piloted into the haven of eternal rest. 

The cause of the loss of the Manchester is not, 
and probably never will be certainly known. It 
is quite possible, however, that it might have 
arisen from some accident to the machinery, by 
which tlie vessel became unmanageable ; and, 
the weather being at the time very rough, she 
was driven on the sands on the south-western 
coast of Denmark. 



It is a singular circumstance, that both John 
Dudley and Capt. Richard Roberts, who were 
the first to reach New York together by steam, 
should each have been lost in his own vessel, 
with every one on board, and each of them 
well-experienced men. 

The foregoing brief account of the life and me- 
lancholy death of this promising young Friend, 
it is hoped, may not be without instruction and 
encouragement to persons engaged in a similar 
calling, beset as it is with peculiar temptations 
and snares. Yet a seafaring life has much 
connected with it calculated to impress the 
mind with serious thoughtfulness. ' They that 
go down to the sea in ships,' says the pious 
Psalmist, ' that do business in great waters, 
these see the works of the Lord, and his won- 
ders in the deep' (Ps. cvii. 23, 24). John Dud- 
ley, though in an exposed line of life, though 
much in the world, was yet, in a great degree, 
preserved from its vices. This, it is believed, 
was the result of his mind being measurably 
influenced by that fear of the Lord which is de- 
clared to be not only 'the beginning of wisdom,' 
but also ' a fountain of life, to depart from the 
snares of death.' He was not one who professed 
much, but we trust his conduct before other 
nautical men was not without its beneficial 
effect ; and, we may add, that, when opportunity 
offered, he was a regular attender of our meet- 
ings. Ilis sudden removal is another call to 
survivors — ' Be ye also ready ; for in such an 
hour as ye think not, the Son of man cometh.' 



On Uoninark's shore tli>' grave tliey mnde ; 

No relative was near. 
To mark the sjiot where tliou wast laid, 

And o'er it shed a tear. 

Though not allow'd tliat port to reach. 
To which thy ship was bound ; 

Though lifeless wash'd upon the beach, 
Thy manly form was found. 

We humbly trust that in that hour 

Of shipwreck and di.smay. 
The everlasting Arm of Power 

Thy spirit bore away. 

To brighter shores of cloudless light, 

Where endless joys are known, 
And ransom'd souls in praise unite 

Before Jehovah's throne. 


Affliction is a pill which, if wrapped up in 
patience, may be easily swallowed; but when 
discontent puts us upon chewing, it proves bit 
ter and disgusting. Under the influence of 
religion, David could saj, ' It is good for nie 
that I have been afflicted.' 


The miser has his anguish, 
The merchant weai-y pain, 

The lover long doth languish, 
Yet none their end obtain. 

The toiling farmer soweth. 
The reaper reaps the grain ; 

The traveller forward goeth — 
Yet none their end obtain. 



The miser leaves his money, 

Tlie merchant all his care, 
The lover, gall and honey, 

For thus it is they fare. 

The farmer in death's furrow 

Is buried like his grain ; 
The labourer on the morrow 

From labour doth refrain ; 
All pay the life they borrow. 

For all that end obtain. 

They lay them down to slumber 

Beneath the churchyard stone. 
With all the woes they number. 

Their destiny unknown. 

And what thus could they follow, 

With such continued quest ? 
What flitting dream and hollow 

Thus robbed them of their rest ? 

Power, wealth, or love, or leisure. 

Alone could not be sought ; 
Beyond must be some treasure, 

Some phantom of the thought. 

They sought, thus truth confesseth, 

But, erring, failed to find, 
What heaven alone possesseth — 

The calm and happy mind ! 

(Richard Howitt.) 



He was a youth much inclined to read the Holj 
Scriptures, and other good books; and was 
always obliging, obedient, and loving to his 
parents, and I'eady and willing to do any service 



he could to his friends, which he cheerfully per- 
formed and took delight in. He was very dili- 
gent, and ready to go to religious meetings, and 
an entire lover of religious people. In his sick- 
ness, he beliaved himself more like a wise man 
than a child, bearing his pain with a great deal 
of patience. I being in another part of the 
world, he would gladly have seen me, but said 
he should never see me any more, and tlierefore 
desired his mother to remember his dear love to 
his father, and tell him that he was gone to his 
heavenly Father. He was very fervent in prayer 
in the time of his sickness, and prayed that God 
would preserve his people all the world over. 
One time, when in great pain, he prayed to 
Christ, saying, ' Sweet Jesus I blessed Jesus ! 
give me patience to bear my misery and pain, 
for my misery is greater than I can well bear I 
O come, sweet Jesus, why art thou so long in 
coming ? I had rather be with thee than in the 
finest place in all the world.' Another time he 
said, ' My misery and pain is very great, but 
wliat would it be if the wrath of God was in 
my soul?' Believing in the love of God in 
Christ, made him desirous of being with him; 
and, seeing the joy that was set before him, he 
thought the time long to be with Jesus, know- 
ing tliat then he would be out of all misery and 
pain. His heart was full of love to his relations, 
acquaintances, and friends, who came to see 
him in his illness; and, full of tender sweetness 
and Divine love, he took his last leave of them, 
which greatly affected many. This was one of 



the most pinching exercises I ever met with in 
all my days, losing this promising youth, my 
only son; but, as he said in his illness, so I 
now write, ' The wisdom of the Lord is won- 
derful!' One time in this child's sickness he 
said, ' O ! the good hand of the Lord help me, 
give me ease, and conduct me safe.' He was 
afifectiouately concerned for his mother, doing 
whatever he could, freely and cheerfully, to 
serve her, and told her not to do things which 
he thought too much for her, saying, ' Mother, 
let me do it, if I were a man thou should not do 
anything at all;' meaning as to labour, my dear 
wife being very industrious, and apt to overdo 
herself at times; and she being affected with 
his filial love and care for her in his father's 
absence, it caused her sometimes to turn about 
and weep. He was ten years and seven days 
old when he died, and, as he was much beloved 
for the sweetness of his nature and disposition, 
so he was greatly lamented by many who were 
acquainted with him. This dear and tender 
youth, when reading, if he met with anything 
that affected him, either in the Sacred Writings 
or other good authors, he would write it down, 
and get it by heart. One which much affected 
my mind, that he thus wrote down, was Isa. 
Ivii. 15 — ' For thus saith the high and lofty 
One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is 
Holy, I dwell in the high and holy place, with 
him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit, 
to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive 
the heart of the contrite ones.' 




When George Fox was travelling in America, 
John Burnyeat, with some other Friends, ac- 
companied him overland from Maryland to New 
England, attended bj an Indian guide. Their 
journey was tedious, toilsome, and dangerous, 
through a wild country, where none of their 
countryman dwelt at that time. The Indians 
were kind and helpful to them, and one night 
they were received by an Indian king, who 
showed them such hospitality as lay in his 
power. His provisions being exhausted he could 
not supply them with food ; but lodged them as 
he was lodged himself, on a mat spread on the 
ground, with a piece of wood for a pillow. Some- 
times the woods afforded them lodging. 


The Spirit of God, were we mindful of its re- 
quirings in our own hearts, would make just 
rulers and upright people (2 Sam. xxii. 3), lov- 
ing husbands and tender wives, affectionate 
parents and obedient children, kind masters 
and faithful servants, it would make us duti- 
ful to our Maker, peaceable in ourselves, and 
friendly towards each otlier. 

It would bridle our tongues, set a watch be- 
fore our mouths (Psal. cxli. 3), and conduct us 

» 2 



iu all our ways. It would reform the drunkard, 
the swearer, the liar, the thief, &c., and prevent 
mankind from committing those things, which 
the adversary of our souls entices the children 
of men unto. It would discover the various 
wiles of our potent enemy, and guard us against 
his wicked and subtle devices. It would enable 
the young, or even the most headstrong and un- 
governable, to cleanse their ways (Psal. cxix. 9), 
be a comfort to the aged in their declining 
years, and conduct mankind to their graves in 
peace. It would wean our alfections from the 
things of this world (Col. iii. 2), and set them 
on things of a more excellent and substantial 
nature. It would teach us to be true to God, 
just to man, and honest to our own souls; and 
keep us from thinking more of the world, or the 
ways, customs, and usages thereof, than such 
things deserve to be thought on or esteemed of. 
It would conduct us in the way of life and sal- 
vation, and be a lamp to our feet in our spiritual 
journey. It would make us more mindful of 
the Divine law in our hearts (Jer. xxxi. 33), and 
imprint the fear of the Lord in our inward 
parts (Jer. xxxii. 40; Psal. cxi. 10; Prov. i. 7-10); 
■which fear, besides many others, has this bless- 
ing ever attending it, which is, that it keeps 
mankind from those vain and unnecessary fears, 
which so frequently terrify and sometimes over- 
whelm their minds. It would fortify our souls 
against every exercise that can befall us, and 
make all things work together for our good 
(Rom. viii. 28). It would procure the love and 



favour of God, draw down his blessings on us, 
and make our souls beautiful and lovely in his 
most holy sight. It would thoroughly baptize 
us into one body (1 Cor. xii. 13), and make us 
members of Christ, the children of God, and 
heirs of his kingdom, in deed and in truth. 
And what can, or need more to be said, to re- 
commend mankind to the dictates and mani- 
festations of God's Spirit in their own hearts 
and minds ? 

The Spirit of God, tlu-ough its Divine in- 
fluences and operations in our own minds, is 
the inspirer of every good thought, and the doer 
of every good act. It is the discoverer of sin, 
and the condemnor of it in the heart. It is 
the supporter of the weak, the resolver of the 
doubtful, and the teacher of all true and essen- 
tial knowledge. It is the enlightener of the 
mind, the purifier of the heart, and the procurer 
of every Divine favour which we either do or 
ever can enjoy. It is the instructor of the ig- 
norant, the counseller of the just, the wisdom of 
the wise, and the strength of the mighty ; and 
those who follow its Divine leadings and lioly 
instructions, actually find that it succours them 
in all dangers, supports them in all troubles, 
assists them in all diiiicnlties ; is with them in 
adversity, and that it stands by them in every 
needful and trying time ; that it is a sure guide 
in health, and a sweet companion in time of 
sickness; that it directs the rich how to use 
their riches, and sustains the poor in the midst 
of their povertv ; that it is with the faithful in 

Q 3 



every exigence and vicissitude of life, and that 
it forsakes them not at the approach of, or in 
the hour of death. 

Now one may reasonably hope that every sin- 
cere lover of the Holy Scriptures cannot but 
see, that to be led and guided by the grace or 
good Spirit of God (Tit. ii. 11; John xiv. 26; 
xvi. 13), is the foundation of true religion, and 
the sum and substance of the gospel. 

And, to be brief, as the Spirit of God de- 
scended on Christ and his disciples, and, by 
its Divine influence, was abundantly manifested 
through the faithful in former ages ; so now, 
whenever he enlightens the understandings, and 
vivifies the hearts of any, the effects thei'eof 
cannot but be visible, or made manifest in their 
lives and conversations, in their conduct and 
behaviour ; for the fruit of this Spirit is, and 
ever will be, love, joy, peace, long-suffering, 
gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temper- 
ance, patience, contentment, and resignation to 
the Divine will, in every state and condition of 
life (Gal. v. 22); which blessings, that all may 
witness and be favoured with, is the ardent 
desire of H. M. 


Francis Howgill was imprisoned, in 16(54, for 
holding meetings in his house, and was, at an 
ensuing assize, premunired. The conclusion 
of his case was as follows ; — 



The judge said, with a low faint voice, You 
are put out of the king's protection and the 
benefit of the law. Your lands are confiscated 
to the King during jour life, and your goods 
and chattels for ever, and you are to be prisoner 
during your life. 

F. H. — Hard sentence for obeying the com- 
mand of Christ ; but I am content and in per- 
fect peace with the Lord ; and the Lord forgive 
you all ! 

Judge. — Well, if you will yet be subject to 
the laws, the King will show you mercy. 

F. H. — The Lord hath showed mercy unto 
me, and I have done nothing against the King, 
nor Government, nor against any man, blessed 
be the Lord ! And therein stands my peace ; 
and it is for Christ's sake I suffer, and not for 
evil doing. 

So he was returned to prison, where he con- 
tinued to the end of his days. 


1656. — About this time several persons were 
committed to Newgate, in Bristol, for bearing 
testimony to the truth in the places of public 
worship there. Of these, seven are mentioned 
as having been first beaten and miserably mis- 
used by the mob ; and one woman, Temperance 
Hignell, being concerned to reprove a certain 
priest, after he had ended his sermon, was 



knocked down in the place, to the taking away 
her senses, and sorelj^ beaten and bruised, her 
clothes being torn from her back ; after which 
she was cast into prison, where, being danger- 
ously ill, she was carried out in a basket, and, 
within two or three days, died. George Har- 
rison was also there imprisoned till death. 

Such fruits of the priest's ministry, more 
especially sanctioned by his own example in 
using personal violence, sufficiently evinced the 
necessity of some kind of warning from the 
servants of God to the congregation, to turn 
from the evil of their loays and fear Him. 


An estimable female Friend, a minister in our 
Society, was lately travelling in a coach, and 
had an interesting conversation with a fellow- 
passenger; who began by speaking of the many 
leaving the Society, and said he greatly ap- 
proved of our sentiments in many respects, and 
wished there might never cease to be such a 
people — that we were raised up for a good 
purpose, to bear a peculiar testimony, and 
wished that it might never be suffered to fall to 
the ground ; but, said he, it must be upheld in 
its ancient purity. He then remarked how 
greatly we were gone from our primitive sim- 
plicity ; that we were an industrious people, 



blessed in our trade, some got rich, and then 
got out into the worldly spirit — but that he 
trusted a little remnant would be preserved 
faithful, making a stand against these things, 
and then, although from these siftings that are 
come upon us, we may be reduced to be few 
in number, yet we should shine forth more 
brightly, and others would flock to us. 


Waft not to me the blast of fame. 
That swells the trump of victory ; 

For to my ear it gives the name 
Of slaughter and of misery. 

Boast not so much of honour's sword. 
Wave not so high the victor's plume ; 

Tliey point me to the bosom gor'd, 

Tliey point me to the blood-stain'd tomb. 

The boastful shout, the revel loud. 

That strive to drown the voice of pain ; 

What are they but tiie fickle crowd. 
Rejoicing o'er their brethren slain ? 

And, 0 ! through glory's fading blaze, 

I see tiie cottage taper, pnle, 
Which sheds its faint and feeble rays, 

Where unprotected orphans wail. 

Where the sad widow weeping stands. 
As if her day of hope was done ; 

Where the wihl mother clasps lier hands, 
.\nd asks the victor for lier son. 

Where, midst that desolated land, 
The sire lamenting o'er his son, 

Extends his pale and powerless hand. 
And finds its only prop is gone. 



See how the bands of war and woe 
Have rifled sweet domestic bliss ; . 

And tell me if your laurels grow, 
And flourish in a soil like this. — (Sigocrnkt.) 


Respecting William Penn's treaty with the 
Indians of North America, Voltaire remarks, 
■with much truth and severity, that it was the 
only one ever concluded which was not ratified 
by an oath, and the only one that never was 


It is related of John Crook, one of the most 
eminently gifted ministers in the early period 
of the Society of Friends, that he was once 
brought by an informer before a justice of the 
peace, for preaching in a meeting ; and the 
justice, being a moderate man, was loath to 
send him several miles to prison, so late in the 
evening as he was brought before him, and told 
the informer to call in the morning and he 
would then hear his accusation. The justice 
told John Crook, as he appeared a decent man, 
he should have lodgings in his house that night, 
if he had no objection to sleep in a room his 
servant said was haunted, no other being un- 
occupied, as he had company. John expressed 
his acknowledgment for this favour, and ac- 
cepted the offer. He was kindly entertained, 



and had much conversation with the company 
on religious subjects, with which he and they 
appeared well pleased. He was shown his 
lodging-room at the further end of a long 
gallery, by the Justice himself, and slept well 
till about one o'clock, and then awoke with the 
overflowings of sweetness and peace covering 
his mind, and such intimations of Divine favour 
as greatly refreshed him. Just at this time a 
rattling noise was heard along the gallery, 
which continued for some time, and on its 
ceasing, a shrill voice, as if coming through the 
key hole of the door, said, ' You are damned,' 
repeating it three different times. John an- 
swered, ' Thou art a liar; for I feel this moment 
the sweet peace of my God flow through my 
heart.' All the noise and tlie voice ceased, and 
he soon after fell asleep, and did not awake till 
about his usual time of rising. He then walked 
about the garden waiting for the Justice rising ; 
soon after which, a servant-man came up to 
him and fell on his knees, and begged forgive- 
ness, and his prayer to God to forgive him; and 
he confessed, that it was he who made the noise 
near his chamber in the night, and spoke those 
wicked words ; but that his reply pierced him 
to the heart. He also informed him, how his 
master had been robbed by him and others for 
years past, and concealed a discovery of their 
practice with the pretence of spirits haunting 
the house. All this, at John Crook's request, 
the servant told the master with penit-ence, and 
obtained his pardon, as did John his dismission 



from the informer. This servant became an 
altered man, and soon after joined Friends, 
becoming a minister amongst them. 


• To-DAT,' the active worldHng cries, 

' My gains and business I'll pursue ; 
And then to-morrow I'll be wise, 
And seek my soul's salvation too. 

• To-day my pleasure calls nie hence, 

Stranger to care and friend to mirth ; 
To-niorrow quit the joys of sense.' 
Thus speaks the votary of earth. 

' To-day, the call where jrloi'y leads, 
With zeal and ardour I'll attend ; 

To-morrow, I'll perform the deeds, 

Which make the eternal God my friend.' 

And thus the thoughtless and the gay, 
Deaf to religion's hallowed tlieme. 

Which sweetly cries, ' Be wise to-day, 
Nor longer of to-morrow dream.' 

To-day the lov'd Redeemer stands. 
And woos thee, sinner, to his arms ; 

O listen to his blest commands. 

And thus escape to-morrow's harms. 

The day, declining, fades away, 

Eternity's wide sea rolls on ; 
Secure the grace without dt'lay. 

To-morrow grace may be withdrawn. 


Was born in South Africa, being a descendant 
of a celebrated Hottentot chief. When quite 



young, he was sent to Hankey, to attend a mis- 
sionary school. Edward Williams, the mission- 
ary then resident there, was struck with the 
appearance of intelligence in the child. A 
deep interest in the native tribes, and a desire 
to promote their civilization, induced him to 
take six of their children ioto his own family, 
that he might attend to their moral and re- 
ligious instruction himself, with a view to their 
being ultimately placed as teachers in the na- 
tive school. Cupido became one of these pupils, 
and, by his amiable and gentle disposition, gained 
the affections of the family. 

In this guarded situation, his mind appears 
to have been early impressed with the necessity 
of seeking the Lord, and he frequently resorted 
to his 'praying spot in the bush,' a practice 
common with the native converts in South 
Africa, and he was considered a hopeful char- 

In 1843, the declining health of the mission- 
ary induced him to return to his native land, 
and he brought the young Hottentot with him 
to educate, and become fitted for usefulness. 
After spending a few months in Wales, Cupido 
was placed in the mission school at Waltham- 
stow ; and shortly after, Edward Williams, his 
kind protector, died ; he had been a faithful la- 
bourer in the Lord's vineyard, and his removal, 
in the prime of life, was deeply felt in the 
mission field. Previous to his death, he com- 
mitted Cupido to the care of James Backhouse, 
a minister of the Society of Friends, who had 



undertaken to raise the funds necessary for his 
education. He greatlj felt the loss of his early 
friend, but he steadily pursued his studies, and 
became a general favourite in the school. In 
1846, his health declining, he left Waltham- 
stow, and became an inmate in the family of 
James Backhouse, at York. His inquiring 
mind, combined with much intelligence and 
simplicity of manners, endeared him to the 
family circle ; his religious thoughtfulness was 
very apparent, and his ardent attachment to 
hia own country was often strikingly pourtrayed. 
He continued to decline rapidly, but it was in- 
teresting to observe,lhow much his thoughts were 
turned to subjects of the highest importance. 
He was frequently engaged in prayer, and seve- 
ral times requested that his friends would pray 
for him. 

Being told that the doctor considered his re- 
covery very doubtful, he observed, ' I should 
liked to have lived a little longer to have gone 
to Afi-ica;' but added, ' the Lord's will must be 
right.' He remarked that, in looking back to 
his past life, there were many things which gave 
him great regret, and said with much earnestness, 
' I do wish that I had lived neai'er to the Lord.' 

Being asked if he had any message to send 
to James Backhouse, who was absent from liome 
on religious service, he said, ' Give my dear lore 
to him, and tell him I believe this illness has 
been greatly blessed to me ; it has made me feel 
very thankful for all my blessings, and drawn 
me nearer to the Lord Jesus. I hope his work 



prospers, and that, when it is finished, if we 
are permitted to meet, it may be with joy in 
the Lord.' 

As he was becoming much weaker, the re- 
mark being made that his present state of trial 
was not hkely to last long, he said that he be- 
lieved it was not, and requested to have a letter 
read to him which had been received from Jane 
Williams, the widow of his first Christian care- 
taker, in which she expressed her desire that, 
whether he lived or died, the Lord might be his 
portion for ever, &c. With this he was much 
pleased ; he sent a message of love to her, and 
spoke of her kind care in keeping him near to 
her when he was a little boy; regarding this as 
a link in tlie cliain of Divine Providence, which 
had been so wonderfully extended to liim up to 
the present time ; he spoke with joyful antici- 
pation of meeting her husband in heaven, and 
continued, ' O Lord, take care of his children ; 
watcia over them as he used to do over us.' He 
again referred to the hope he had entertained 
of returning to labour, in the Lord's vineyard, 
in his native land ; how his heart had yearned 
to be made instrumental in the conversion of 
his benighted countrymen, and more especially 
of his own immediate connections, saying, ' O 
Lord ! take thine own work into thine own 
hands, and, by thy Holy Spirit, visit their hearts, 
and turn them unto righteousness.' 

In reference to his own state, he said, ' I be- 
lieve that the blood of Jesus has cleansed me 
from all sin;' and, with a countenance beaming 

H 2 



with joy and gratitude, he exclaimed, ' 0 Lord, 
blessed and praised be thy holy name.' 

At one time his soul seemed filled -with the 
love of his Sayiour, and he emphatically ex- 
claimed, ' Why do not all sinners come to Christ?' 
Seeing those around him weep, he said, ' I wish 
you to be comforted ; do not cry at that which 
is the will of God ; the Lord bless and reward 
you for all your kindness to me.' He then took 
an affectionate leave of them, and gave direc- 
tions respecting the distribution of his books. 

He continued to praise and magnify God, and 
said, ' I am thirsty here, but I shall soon drink 
of the river of life ; 1 am going to that place 
where there will be no M^ant.' He died in the 
9th month, 1846, aged about 17, doubtless to 
join the ransomed of all nations, kindreds, peo- 
ple, and tongues, who have washed their robes, 
and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. 
His remains were interred in the burial ground 
belonging to the Friends in York. 


John Roby, author of Traditions of Lancashire, 
and Seven Weeks in Belgium, Switzerland, d:c., 
in speaking of the service at the Roman Catholic 
cathedral at Cologne, one of the largest in the 
world, though yet incomplete, makes the follow- 
ing remarks — ' The service, as- a whole, to mo 
at least, was anything but devotional. A.i 
opera, a tragedy, or any sublime scenic repre- 



seutation, would have given birth to similar 
feelings, without one spark from a higher and 
holier source. There was no rising of the soul 
to communion with heaven. I felt too satisfied, 
too pleased with earth and its witchei'ies, inso- 
much, that a thought of the more awful solem- 
nities of another and an eternal state of exist- 
ence, seemed an intrusion and an abhorrence. 
Wliat effect such performances may have on 
others, I cannot determine. An elderly Span- 
iard in the nest seat seemed in a fever of 
ecstacy, but whether from earth or lieaven, 1 
may not judge.' — (Roby's Seven Weeks in Bel- 
gium, &c.) 


An emincol minister of the 'Established Church' 
(so called), was one, amongst many others, who 
joined the Society of Friends in its early rise. 
He was a remarkable man, and George Fox has 
left the following testimony concerning him : — 
' He had been an eminent parish priest, and of 
note amongst the professors and other priests ; 
and also a lecturer in several parts of the coun- 
try, preaching sermons on the week days. And 
he, coming to Swarthmoor in Lancasliire, with 
some other priests, I asked him and them, be- 
fore Judge Fell, whether he or any of them 
could say, that they ever heard a voice from 
God or Christ, from heaven, that bid them go 
to speak to any people, as God and Christ did to 
the prophets and apostles ? And Thomas said 

II :! 



before tliem all, that lie never heard any such 
voice or command. And I asked him what he 
preached to the people then ? He made an- 
swer, and said, "his experiences." I told him 
his experience might not reach to every condi- 
tion ; but he that had the icord of the Lord might 
teach it, whom God sent, and that would reach 
all conditions. So the Lord's word and power 
struck him that he was silent, but the rest of 
the priests were high and opposed, and came to 
nothing. And Judge Fell wondered and aston- 
ished at what he lieard Thomas say, that ho 
had never heard the voice of God nor Christ to 
command him to preacli to any people ; the said 
Thomas Taylor being looked upon as a high 
priest, and above the common priests, and a 
sober man, and beloved among tlie outward pro- 
fessors. I went along with him that day to a 
place called Newton, in Lancashire, where he 
used to preach sometimes, and he was very 
much cast down, and sad, and groaned that 

' And the next day we went to a meeting 
whicli we had iu the worship-house yard, but 
he would have gone into the house, but the 
priest would not let us ; ami I told him it was 
no matter. And there came another priest 
from Underbarrow, and several others; and 
Thomas sitting still, at last a tender spring of 
life sprang up in him, and he spoke very well iu 
it to the people, both of his own condition and 
the people's; and now how they must turn: to 
the Lord Jesus Clirist. And the Underbarrow 



priest and some other professors were offended, 
and opposed him ; but the Lord's power came 
over them all, for ho was looked on, in the time 
of his priesthood, to be above them. And 
Thomas Taylor grew in the grace and truth of 
Christ, and came to know the word of the Lord, 
and preached Christ freely, and forsook his parish 
steeple-house, and his ol<l parish wages, and the 
rest of the priests that preached for hire ; and 
he travelled up and down in many parts of Eng- 
land, preaching the word of the Lord, and his 
gospel freely, as he was commanded.' 

'The foregoing,' says John Barclay, 'is a 
plain man's account of a plain matter of fact. 
It is not set off by the beauties or power of lan- 
guage, yet the unprejudiced reader, discovering 
a native intrinsic excellency in the piece, will 
not despise it because of its simplicity. George 
Fox, who penned the narrative, it is well known, 
was what would now be called an unlettered 
and a homely kijid of man, not accustomed to 
the refinements of the age he lived in, mucli less 
to those of otir day ; partaking, therefore, in our 
view, a certain rougimess or plainness in his 
mode of speaking and writing, as well as in his 
general liabits ; at tlie same time a gentleman 
in the literal and strictest sense of the word, a 
Christian in his manners and deportment, en- 
deavouring, to his utmost, to promote " peace 
on earth, and good will towards men." The 
subject to which he thought fit, in the present 
instance, to direct the attention and discourse 
of his company, is one of great importance. 



compreliending, it is believed, the most main 
characteristic of the ministry of Friends ; as 
suf.h, the passage is, in particular, recommended 
to the serious consideration of our jouth, being 
calculated to convey much instruction without 
much formality. It is indeed to be feared, 
whether some under our profession, of riper 
years and judgment, may not stand in need of 
being reminded by this simple relation, that 
the minister of Christ must receive nothing 
short of tlie word of the Lord, and when com- 
missioned, must preach it where, and as he is 

This view of the matter cuts shorts the ela- 
borate contrivances of most professors of Chris- 
tianity, to arrive at a supposed sufficiency in 
preaching by human skill. Certainly it is 
holiness, an entire submission or yielding to the 
Divine will, so far as we know it, and a quiet 
expectation and endeavour after farther ac- 
quaintance with the same, can alone prepare 
the soul to become, through mercy, instru- 
mental in the Lord's hand for the everlasting 
good of others. Remarkable is the exemplifi- 
cation of this truth in the case before us. 
Thomas Taylor was a man of erudition and 
piety ; he had been in the way of imbibing 
whatever a college education could impart ; 
and, being strict in his profession, was, no 
doubt, earnestly engaged in attaining all the 
helps and props, which a ministry like that he 
had been brought up to, evidently required ; 
yet he came to see, by the fresh extended power 



of Divine help, that his views of the ministry 
Tvere defective. With the apostle, he could say 
in the language of sincerity, ' That which we 
have seen, heard, and felt, declare we unto you ; ' 
he preached his experiences, as he acknowledged; 
but he had not apprehended it his duty to look 
for the manifestations of that ' Word of Life,' 
of which the apostle there speaks, tlirough which 
alone the true preacher of the gospel is enabled 
to administer effectually to the states and wants 
of his heai-ers. The great Shepherd declared, 
that ' his sheep hear his voice,' and that he call- 
eth his own sheep by name, and leadeth them 
out. And when he putteth forth his own sheep, 
he goeth before them, and his slieep follow him, 
for they know his voice. Nevertheless, this 
zealous pastor confessed, he had not been sen- 
sible of such distinct dealings towards him. He, 
no doubt, spoke of good things to the people, 
perhaps with the best of motives ; but had ho 
known the inward appearance and voice of Christ 
in his soul, and come under its directions and 
limitations in his religious services, he would have 
preached, when he preached, with tlie authority 
of a Divine commission, even ' as tlie oracles of 
God.' Where a person professing the ministry 
is brought to see all his ability for real usefulness, 
all the good springing up in him, to be wholly 
dependent on the particular and express exten- 
sions of heavenly grace at the time ; where he is 
brought to resign himself to these without re- 
serve on all occasions, then may he most truly 
be said to be an itistrument in the Divine hand. 



The effect and influence of the gospel preach- 
ing under such circumstances, is often verj strik- 
ing, as in that of Thomas Taylor, who, in a short 
time, became an eminent preacher of the Word ; 
and it may be said of him as it was of his holy 
Pattern and Teacher, 'he spake as one having 
authority,' even ' in the demonstration of the 
Spirit, and of power ; ' many thereby being 
turned from darkness to the light, prevailed on to 
bring their deeds to it, and enabled to walk in 
the same. His writings will always be valuable 
to those who look for substance, not show ; some- 
thing of the meekness and gentleness of Christ 
appears on the face of them ; there is also much 
Cliristian experience evinced in parts, and what 
is very rarely seen in the productions of those 
who have some share of literary acquirements ; 
there is, throughout, an uncommon simplicity 
of language and plainness of style, with so little 
semblance of study, that one might fancy his 
parentage and education to have been as humble 
and homely as his who was called the carpen- 
ter's son, or as his fishermen apostles. — (Bar- 
clay's Anecdotes, p. 98.) 


Persecution and intolerance are words at which 
my soul recoils ; words which call up the most 
unpleasant ideas ; which make me tremble when 
I consider the inexpressible depravity of the 



human mind, and how far it has been extended 
and manifested among mankind. 

Of all the absurdities and impieties, that of 
persecution for difference of opinion is the most 
cruel and flagrant ; nothing more unreasonable, 
nothing more abhorrent, for the true genius of 

That a man should be indifferent as to what 
he believes, or suppose that all doctrines are 
alike, this would be a mark of an ignorant and 
impious mjnd. Every man is bound to search 
into the will of his Creator, so far as it is re- 
vealed ; to study his obligations to him, and to 
be earne.stly concerned for the promotion of his 
glory in the world. But to triumph over others, 
to attempt to rob them of their private judg- 
ment, or to persecute them in any way, because 
they differ from us in thought, is the greatest 
disgrace to reason, religion, and humanity. It 
is also as useless as it is wicked. It may make 
hypocrites, but not Christians. Attempts have 
been made to establish an exact uniformity of 
sentiment, but all in vain ; so it must be, while 
variety characterizes all the works, material 
and intellectual, of the Creator's hand. Racks, 
tortures, gibbets, fires, with all the instruments 
of cruelty, have been applied, but the mind has 
risen superior to all ; yea, the very sanguinary 
methods made use of, have, instead of repress- 
ing, supported and strengthened the cause of 
truth, while it has injured that of the opposers. 
It was a true saying of the emperor Maximilian 
II., that ' such princes as tyrannize over the 



consciences of men, attack the throne of the 
Sujjreme Being, and frequently loose the earth 
by interfering too much with heayen.' The 
spirit of persecution has been too preyalent in 
every age, and almost in eyerj party ; nor has 
free toleration been rightly understood till 
within these few years. The accounts given us 
of the ten pagan persecutions, the successive 
and unheard-of cruelties of the church of Rome, 
and, alas ! the too great portion of this spirit 
among Protestants, are enough to make human- 
ity sicken at the thought. We, however, live 
in a time, when this spirit begins to be treated 
as it should be. How our forefathers suffered, 
history informs us. We cannot be sufficiently 
thankful for the liberty we now enjoy. The 
dawn of truth, love, and intelligence, now ap- 
pears, and the glorious sun of religious liberty 
sheds its benign influence around us. May 
it never cease to shine, till the whole world 
be enlightened, and the spirit of intolerance 
and religious oppression be heard of no more I 

What a different spirit to that of persecution 
did Louis XII. manifest, and how much more 
commendable. When he was incited to perse- 
cute the Waldenses, he returned this truly great 
and noble reply — ' God forbid that I should 
persecute any for being more religious than 
myself. — (Buck's Anecdotes.') 




This prince was so warm an admirer of Homer, 
that he is said to have placed a copy of his 
works under his pillow, and carefully deposited 
the Iliad in a most beautiful casket, observing, 
that the most excellent work of human genius 
— pretiosissimiim hiimani animi opus — was wor- 
thy of the most valuable and precious case in 
the world. 

What an example to Christians to love and 
reverence the best of books — the Bible! for, 
■while Homer sings of arms, bloodshed, and 
desolation, the Holy Scriptures sing of mercy 
and peace through the blood of Jesus, offered 
to the worst of sinners. — (Buck's Anecdotes.) 


Wife of William Collins, of Alvoston, near 
Stratford-on-Avon, was of a remarkably meek 
and placid disposition. Her natural diffidence, 
whilst it formed a pleasing trait in her character, 
caused her virtues to shine in a more contracted 
sphere, and diminished that usefulness in so- 
ciety, which her example might otherwise have 
extensively promoted ; still the peculiar inno- 
cency of her life, could not fail forcibly to strike 
those who were acquainted with her, her gen- 
eral conduct holding out the encouraging lan- 
guage — ' Follow me, as I endeavour to follow 


Both before and after her marriage, her re- 
sidence being in the country, she was of course 
much secluded ; but she had always free access 
to some of her affluent neighbours, who admired 
the benevolence, simplicity, and integrity of 
her heart. Among these and others, she would 
circulate religious books and tracts ; and, as 
suitable opportunities offered, would advocate 
the Christian principles she professed. 

She had a pleasing taste for poeti'y, and fre- 
quently indulged it on moral and religious sub- 
jects. Ever ready to advocate the cause of 
humanitj', the unnecessary sufferings of the 
brute creation affected her sympathizing mind, 
and furnished frequent themes for the exercise 
of this talent. 

Towards young persons she felt a peculiar 
attachment ; she was desirous that they should 
prize their privileges as members of our Society ; 
and would at times hand them counsel and en- 
couragement. She would also often contribute 
to their innocent amusement by the productions 
of her muse, in which instruction and recreation 
were happily blended. 

During the last years of her life, she laboured 
under many bodily infirmities, that were thought 
to originate from an accident that in some mea- g 
sure injured the spine. Her faith remained " 
unshaken in the prospect of increased suffering, 
from the rapid progress of a cancer in the 
breast, which her medical attendant deemed it 
necessary to remove. In a letter to a friend, 
a few days before the operation, she said— -'I 



feel supported beyond wliat I could expect, and 
I do not know but my dear husband and sister 
are greater objects of commiseration, they feel 
so much from anticipation.' 

She passed the eventful period -with much 
composure and resignation, and lived some time 
after the wound appeared perfectly healed ; but 
the shock -which her constitution suffered, gra- 
dually impaired her health. She was confined 
to her bed one month, and at times her suffer- 
ings were very great ; but she evidently expe- 
rienced the everlasting arm to be underneath. 
She died 1st month 1819, aged 5G. 

The following lines were written by her, on 
hearing some remarks made by a young man, 
after attending a silent meeting at the burial 
of a Friend — 

AVIicn expectation anxious wishing 

Eloquence of words to hear. 
The solemn pause of awfiil silence 

Mortifies its itching ear. 

'Tis tlius perhaps the great Dispenser 

Sees it best to deal with man ; 
The depth of whose unerring counsel 

ITuniaii wisdom cannot scan. 

The striking scene of deatli before us. 
What can more instructive plead ? 

It is a road we all must travel, 
'Tis a path that none evade. 

Though learned phrase and flowery language. 

Please the proud exalted part ; 
Yet deeply-searching home reflection 

Can alone improve the heart. 




It was in 1652 or 1653, that, at the Lancaster 
sessions, George Fox was honourablj exonerated 
from the charge of blasphemy, on which charge 
he had been summoned. Through divers per- 
secutions of jungling opposers, and now and 
then a beating or stoning, &c. ; he pursued his 
course for about another year ; when, finding 
liis way to Carlisle, and preaching there, witli 
his accustomed boldness, it was not long before 
he was again sent to prison, upon the old charge 
of being a blasphemer, &c. ; a charge, of all 
others, which, at first sight, appears tiie most 
singular to be preferred against a man who was 
exhibiting a constant willingness to suffer, even 
to the hazard of his life, for the defence of the 
gospel. Yet, looking at the whole, unbroken, 
and easeful condition of his accusers, and at the 
false views of Christ's religion by which they 
pacified their consciences in such a state, we 
cannot much wonder tliat they stigmatized him 
with the character of a blasplieiuer ; for, in 
preaching against their indulgences, or, in other 
words, against the ' gods many, and lords many,' 
tliat were the real objects of their worship, ho, 
no doubt, was guilty of sacrilege in their eyes. 
That this was the true foundation of such a 
charge, wo may well infer, because experience 
proves, tliat there never has been a ministra- 
tion of the Spirit, whicli has not drawn upon 
the minister thereof this accusation of being 
a blasphemer, or a denier of some of the leading 



doctrines of Christianity. Not to mention the 
case of Fenclon, or that of Madame Guion, or 
of Molinos, on the Continent, or that of the 
pious William Law, in our own country, and 
many more that might be spoken of, let us look 
at the testimony of Scripture to this point ; and 
here we find the great apostle of the Gentiles, 
whilst a persecutor of the followers of Christ, 
and whilst zealous for the law or the letter — in 
liigh acceptation with the Scribes and Pharisees, 
or the doctors of divinity of the Jewish church 
— but the same Paul, preaching Jesus and the 
resurrection, and stating that ho had received 
an immediate revelation and command from his 
Master, is greeted with — ' Away with such a 
fellow from the earth, for it is not fit that he 
should live.'* But need we ask for further 
instances, to prove how inherent is this dispo- 
sition in the unregenerate heart, to stigmatize 
with the worst epithets the purest doctrines ; 
seeing that it was levelled against the Fountain 
of Purity itself?' ' For a good work,' say the 
real blasphemers to the holy Jesus, when he 
meekly asks of his barbarous persecutors, for 
which of his good works were they about to 
stone him, ' For a good work we stono thee 
not ; but for blasphemy ! ' (John x. 33.) 

But to return to George Fox. Whilst he was 
in confinement at Carlisle, he was visited by 

* Acts xxii. 21, 22; and also ch. xxiv. 5, where he ia 
accused of being ' a pestilent fellow, and a mover of sedi- 
tion,' <Ssc. 



many persons ; both his name, principles, and 
increasing followers, having, by this time, ren- 
dered hira an object of extensive fame and 
curiosity ; a circumstance, ■w'iiich, added to a 
natural hatred of the kind of religion he taught 
and practised, so much increased his adver- 
saries, that efforts, it seems, Avere not wanting 
to consider the practicability of his even forfeit- 
ing his life. 

When the assizes came, he states, ' All the 
talk and cry was that I w^as to be hanged, and 
the high sheriff, whose name was Wilfred Law- 
son, stirred them much up to take away my 
life, and said he would guard me to my execu - 
tion himself He also says, that 'great ladies, 
as they were called, came to see the man that 
they said was to die.' As closely was he guarded 
as if his crime had been of the blackest dye, 
three musketeers keeping watch upon him con- 
tinually. Nevertheless, the project of getting 
rid of him by the hand of the executioner, was 
frustrated by some point of law, which, as he 
says, ' Confounded all their counsels ; ' and this 
difficulty, indisposing or incapacitating them 
for bringing him to trial, he was left in prison 
at the time of the assizes ; an act of cruelty 
which caused Justice Pearson, whom he had 
greatly impressed by his preaching at Lan- 
caster, to address a letter to the Judges and 
court in his behalf ; and which, as manifesting 
the view that was taken of his case by a judi- 
cious and educated man, it may be desirable to 
give it at length : — 




'You are raised up to do righteousness and jus- 
tice, and sent forth to punish him that doth 
evil, and to encourage him that dotli well, and 
to set the oppressed free. I am tlierefore moved 
to lay before you the condition of liim who is 
called George Fox, whom the magistrates of 
this city have cast into prison for words that, 
he is accused to have spoken, which they call 
blasphemy. He was sent to the jail till he 
sliould be delivered by due course of law ; and it 
was expected that he should have been proceeded 
against in the common law course at this as- 
sise. The informations against him were de- 
livered into court, and the act allows and 
appoints that way of trial. How hardly and 
unchristianly he hath been hitherto dealt with, 
I shall not now mention; but you may consider 
that nothing he is accused of is nice and diffi- 
cult ; and, to ray knowledge, he utterly abhors 
and detests every particular which, by the act 
against blasphemous opinions, is appointed to 
be puuislied; and differs as much from those 
people, against whom the law was made, as 
liglit from darkness. Tliough lie be committed, 
judgment is not given against him ; nor have his 
accusers been face to face, to afhrm before him 
what they have informed against him ; nor was 
he heard as to the particulars of tlieir accusa- 
sious ; nor doth it api;uar that any word Liioy 
charge against liiui is wiiiiiu the act. But, iu- 


deed, I could not yet so much as see the infor- 
mation, no, not in court, though I desired it 
both of the clerk of the assizes, and of the ma- 
gistrate's clerk; nor hath he had a copy of them. 
This is very hard ; and that he should be so 
close restrained that his friends may not speak 
with him, I know no law nor reason for. I do, 
therefore, claim for him a due and lawful hear- 
ing, and that he may have a copy of his charge, 
and freedom to answer for himself ; and that 
rather before you, than to be left to the rulers 
of this town, who ai-e not competent judges of 
blasphemy, as by their mittimus appears, who 
have committed upon him an act of parliament, 
and mention words, as spoken by him at his 
examination, which are not within the act, and 
which he utterly denies. The words mentioned 
in the mittimus he denies to have spoken, and 
hath neither professed nor avowed them. — 
' Anthony Pearson.' 

But the friendly efforts of this gentleman 
were fruitless. It was resolved not to bring 
George Fox to trial; and he was left, at the 
close of the assizes, to the jurisdiction of the 
magistrates of the town ; who testified what sort 
of favour he was likely to receive from them, 
by ordering him into a still worse place of im- 
prisonment than the jailer's house, where he 
had hitherto been confined, but from whence 
he was now removed into the jail, amongst 
moss-troopers, thieves, and murderers; the pain- 
fulness of whose society was augmented by the 



accompaniment of every other sort of abomina- 
tion, which the filthy and degraded condition of 
prisons in that age, and of those tliat inhabited 
them, could exhibit. ' Yet, as bad as the place 
was,' lie says, ' the prisoners were all made very 
loving and subject to me, and some of them 
were convinced of the truth, as tlie publicans 
and harlots were of old.' 

At this time there appeared little prospect of 
liis release. However, it happened that a re- 
port of his case coming to the knowledge of the 
Parliament, by whose authority the country was 
at tliat time governed, a letter was sent down 
to the sheriff and other magistrates concerning 
him, and not long after ho was liberated. And 
now, the Society having much increased, not 
only in numbers, but also in able ministers, 
tlieir doctrines began to be more generally 
known and considered ; and, although the per- 
secution they met with from hypocritical, pro- 
fessors of religion, and profane deriders of it, 
was in no degree lessened, yet the general in- 
tegrity and uprightness, not merely of tlieir 
principles, but their practice, had gradually 
removed the prejudices which, in the first in- 
stance, threatened to impoverish them, by caus- 
ing the different customers of such of them as 
were in trade, to cease from dealing witii tlicni. 

'But afterwards,' says George, with his ac- 
customed simplicity, 'when people came to have 
e.\'poricnce of Friends' honesty and faithfulness, 
and found that their yea was yea, and tiioir nay 
was nay, that they kept to a word in tlieir deal 



ings, and that they would not cozen and cheat 
them, but that, if they sent a child to their 
shops for anything, they were as well used as if 
they had come themselves, the lives and conver- 
sations of Friends did preach, and reached to the 
witness of God — conscience — in the people.' 

'Then things altered so,' he goes on to say, 
' that all the inquiry was, where was a draper, 
or shopkeeper, or tailor, or shoemaker, or any 
other tradesman that was a Quaker ? Inso- 
much that Friends had more business than many 
of their neighbours,' &c. 

In the same artless strain he afterwards 
speaks of the approbation which, when more 
duly organized, and their different meetings 
permanently established, their orderly mode 
of conducting the Society's affairs, and their 
method of assisting the poor, extracted even 
from their enemies. ' When they saw Friends' 
books,' he says, 'and accounts of collections for 
the relief of the poor, how we took care — one 
county to help auother, and to help oi;r Friends 
beyond sea, and provide for our poor— that none 
of them should be chargeable to t]ieir parishes, 
&LC., the justices and officers confessed that we 
did their work, and would pass away, peaceably 
and lovingly, commending Friends' practice. 
Sometimes,' lie proceeds, 'there would come 
two hundred of the poor of other people and 
wait till the meeting was done (for all the coun- 
try knew we met about the poor), and, after the 
meeting, Fi-iends would send to the baker's for 
bread, and give every one of those poor people 



a loaf, how mauy soevei' there were of them; 
for we were taught to do good uuto all, though 
especially to the household of faith.' — (Kelty's 
Early Iriends.) 


There was at Shackamaxon an elm-tree of a 
prodigious size. To this the leaders on both 
sides repaired, approaching each other under its 
widely-spreading branches. William Penn ap- 
peared in his usual clothes ; he had no crowa, 
sceptre, mace, sword, halberd, or any insignia 
of eminence. He was distinguished only by 
wearing a sky-blue sash round his waist, which 
was made of silken net-work, and which was of 
no larger dimensions than an officer's military 
sash, and much like it, except in colour. This 
sash is now in the possession of Thomas Kett, 
Esq. of Seething Hall, near Norwich. — (Clark- 
son's Memoirs of Penn.) 

Proud martial banners hang in famed St. Paul's, 
Trophies of victories won in bloody fields ; 
But, ah ! with aught such exhibition yields 
Compared, how cheerfully the mind recalls 
The deeds and emblems of deliglitful peace ! 
I'd rather the grave Quaker's belt of blue 
Were mine, than proudest flag that ever flew 
O'er war's most glorious feat. O when shall cease. 
E'en from earth's centre to the utmost poles, 
Man's feuds with man, and heroes be despised, 
And symbols only of sweet peace be prized ? 
E'en when the go-jpel car triumphant rolls 
O'er the wide world, and every race of men 
Shall call each other Friend, and honour peace like 
Penn. (.loiiN IIo;,r.\ND.) 




Speaking of the power which accompanied the 
preacliing of some of the plain and illiterate 
ministers amongst the primitive Friends, Isaac 
Pennington remarks, ' 0 ! the bi'eathiugs and 
meltings of soul, the sense of the living presence 
of God, the subjecting of the heart unto the 
Lord, &c., which hath often been known, and 
sealed to, from the powerful appearance of God, 
in their ministry ! Indeed, when I have con- 
sidered these and such-like things in my heart, 
and narrowly marked them in my converse with 
tliem, I have been often forced to cry out con- 
cerning them, "Truly, here is a man very weak 
and contemptible, but God very glorious and 
powerful!" And, indeed, when at any time I 
looked on the man, I was hardly able to forbear 
disdaining them ; but, on the other liand, when 
the eye of my spirit beheld the power and glory 
of the Lord in them, I could hardly forbear 
over-esteeming and exalting them.' 

But is not this the way of the Lord, the in- 
variable way ? Is it not his established purpose 
to ' stain the pride of human glory,' by choosing 
' those whom man despiseth ' to be the instru- 
ments of his noblest purposes ? Man, vain man, 
seeing no farther than the shell, craves to have 
that well ornamented ; and he gets his gold and 
his scarlet, his languages and his learning, and 
what then ? Are these the things wanted to 
renew a fallen, degenerated soul ? 

It is easy, indeed, to take the outside pattern 



of the high-priest's garments, but where is the 
Urira and the Thummim — the lights and per- 
fections ? — where is the breastplate of judg- 
ment ? where is its engraving like that of a 
signet, with ' Holiness unto the Lord.' — (Kelty's 
Early Friends.) 


TnoMAS Ellwood, one of the early Friends, was 
on terms of particular intimacy with the poet 
Milton, who resided in London. During the 
time that the plague raged in London, he de- 
sired Ellwood to take a house for him in the 
neighbourhood in which he was residing, that, 
as Ellwood observes, ' he might go out of the 
city, for the safety of himself and his family, 
the pestilence then growing hot in London. I 
took a pretty box for him in Giles Chalfont,' 
he says, a mile from me, of which I gave him 
notice, &c. ; and soon making him a visit to 
welcome him into the country, after some com- 
mon discourse had passed between us, he called 
for a manuscript of his ; which, being brought, 
he delivered to me, bidding me take it home 
with me, and read it at my leisure ; and,^ when 
I had so done, return it to him with my judg- 
ment thereupon. 

When I came home, and had set myself to 
read it, I found it was that excellent poem 
whicli he entitled, Paradise Lost. After I had, 
with the best attention, read it tlirough, I made 
him another visit, and returned him his book. 



with due acknowledgment foi' the favour he 
had done me in communicating it to me. He 
a.sked me how I liked it, and what I thought of 
it ; which I modestly, but freely told him ; and, 
after some further discourse about it, I plea- 
santly said to him, ' Thou hast said much here 
of paradise lost ; but what hast thou to say of 
paradise found ?' He made me no answer, but 
sat some time in a muse ; then broke off that 
discourse, and fell upon another subject. 

After the sickness was over, and the city well 
cleansed, and become safely habitable again, he 
returned thither ; and when afterwards I went 
to wait on him there, which I seldom failed of 
doing, whenever any occasion drew me to 
London, he showed me his second poem, called 
Paradise Regained; and in a pleasant tone said 
to me, ' This is owing to you ; for you put it 
into my head, by the question you put to me at 
Chalfont, which before I had not thought of.' 
— (Kelty's Early Friends, p. 229-30.) 


Lord Barrington once asked Collins, the infidel 
writer, how it was, that, though he seemed to 
have very little religion himself, he took so 
much care that his servants should attend 
Divine worship so regularly ? He replied, ' To 
prevent their robbing or murdering me.' To 
such a character, how applicable are these 
words — ' Out of thine own mouth will I judge 
thee.' — (Buck's Anecdotes) 




By Thomas Wilkinson, when in company with John Pem- 
berton, on a religious visit to tliat country, in 17S7. 

While over many a Highland hill I stray. 

And pick thro' many a glen niy devious way, 

On every side I cast my wondering eyes, 

AVhere lakes expand or rugged mountains rise; 

And still T find new pleasures as I go, 

Wherever hills ascend or waters flo\¥. 

But backward oft my silent musings stray 

Among the charming groves of Inveray, 

Not freslier lawns on Alhion's bosom smile, 

Not taller forests crown her fruitful isle. 

Not bolder hills her southi rn skies invade. 

Nor boast our winding vales a deeper shade. 

Argyle — would otlier wealthy lords agree 

To clothe with wood their naked plains like thee. 

To bid the rocks with infant forest spring. 

And call the birds on silent hills to sing. 

The vacant hand of poverty employ. 

And fill their cnttages with humlile joy; 

Then rocks in barren majesty arrayed. 

Would wrap their limbs in beauty's softest shade. 

Among the hills then would the native stay, 

Nor seek for happier fortunes far away ; 

Then would this land increasing thousands bear. 

And o'er the seas her cheerful mountains roar. 

But not tliese bold luxurious sc<'nes confine 

My wand'ring search, or stay a heart like mine ; 

I love to pierce the peasant's humble cell, 

I love to see how all my brethren dwell; 

And sure it fits a social mind to trace 

The various lots assigned the liuman race. 

Peace to the bumble swain who^e simple lot, 

Is bounded by the narrow Highland cot; 

Joy to the noble hospitable breast, 

Who<c pillow sinks the stranger into rest. 

Whose ready board his every want supplies, 

.\nd converse bids his drooping spirits rise ; 

K -2 



Such have I found the Highland vales among, 

Such kindness well may warm raj' grateful song. 

Ye hills, farewell, if e'er I rest again 

On the fair bosom of my native plain. 

Of Highland scenes my tongue will often tell. 

My heart will long on Highland kindness dwell ; 

Nor will, I trust, oblivion soon efface, 

Fi om the remembrance of this generous race, 

The pious toils my loved companions bore, 

Where men lilce us were never seen before; 

The voice of love their deepest valleys found. 

Along the mountain's ran the gospel sound. 

Sweet was the sound and powerful was the call 

To heaven within, the happiness of all. 

The modest Highland maid, the aged dame. 

The cottager and chief, together came; 

Silent they sat, and marvelled when they knew, 

That gospel love so far its votaries drew. 


The following anecdote is recorded as a just 
tribute to the character of the illustrious founder 
of Pennsylvania, being related by Dr. Robert 
H. Rose, of Silver Lake, Susquehanna county, 

Dr. Rose was travelling a few years ago, with 
an interpreter, in one of the Western States, 
and, finding themselves, as the shades of night 
closed around them, in the midst of a hostile 
tribe of Indians, from whom there was no escape, 
he conjectured within his own mind, by what 
avenue he could appease their ferocious feelings. 
Being familiar with the character of William 
Penn, and his untiring kindness and honourable 
conduct towards tliem, he desired his interpre- 



ter to tell them he was of the country of Penri, 
a native of Pennsylvania. Instantly he saw 
the magical influence of a name associated with 
all the peaceful and civic virtues which had 
been handed down from tribe to tribe. The 
whole manner of the Indians became so kind, as 
to inspire the most entire confidence, and insure 
a night of comfortable rest. 


Dorset, 1667. — This year, says Besse, John 
Pitman was prisoner in the county jail, ivhere 
he had been above four years, under sentence of 
premunire for refusing to swear. 


FnoM the accounts which William Penn had 
received of his newly acquired territory, lie was 
desirous of naming the province Sylvania, fi'om 
the circumstance of its abounding in forests ; 
but the King insisted that the name of Penn 
should be prefixed. Penn remonstrated, fearing 
that it would be chai'ged to himself as a piece 
of vanity, but the King overruled his objections, 
and the province was named Pennsylvania. 

Soon after he had published his frame of 
government, he received a free gift from his 
friend, and his father's friend, the Duke of York, 

K .3 



of another tract of land, belonging to the govern- 
ment of New York, and lying contiguous to the 
province of Pennsjlvania, at that time inhabited 
bj a few Dutch and Swedes. By this additional 
grant, PenAsylvania contained an area of up- 
wards of 40,000 square miles, or about 288 miles 
by 156. 


• Lord ! to whom shall we go ? thou hast tlie words of eter- 
nal lite.' John vi. 68. 

O WHITHER shall the hungry soul 

For nourishment repair ? — 
Thine only, Lord ! the quick'ning words 

Of life eternal are. 

Thou art the Rock of ages, whence 

The heavenly waters flowed. 
That through the weary wilderness 

Refreshed the pilgrim's road. 

Then grant that in this vale of tears 

Thy grace my steps may guide, 
Through all its slippery ways protect, 

And for my wants provide. 

And when my longing eye shall sec 

The Land of Promise near, 
May my worn spirit bow to thee, 

Thy Word that spirit cheer. 

Few things are perhaps more worthy of notice, 
in the history of our early Friends, than the re- 
markable unity of doctrine and practice which 
prevailed, amidst the greatest outward variety 



of circumstances. Whether called from amongst 
the rich or the poor, the old or the young, the 
learned or the illiterate of the world, they 
'walked by the same rule, and minded the same 
thing.' They witnessed that there was 'one 
Lord, one faith, one baptism ; one body, and one 
Spirit, even as they were called with one hope 
of tlieir calling.' Whatever might have been 
their former professions or circumstances, they 
threw down all their crowns at the feet of Jesus, 
and became one in Him. Like the primitive 
believers, they ' by one Spirit were all baptized 
into one body.' But in one body are many 
members, to whom are allotted various offices, 
as set forth by the apostle ; ' diversities of gifts, 
but the same Spirit ; differences of administra- 
tions, but the same Lord; diversities of opera- 
.tions, but the same God who worketh all in all.' 

The subject of tlie jjresent notice lived in a 
retired part of the county of Berks, where, for 
many years, he preached Truth in his life and 
conversation as well as in the assemblies of the 
people ; and for his faithful adherence to its tes- 
timonies he was in various ways a great suf- 
ferer; for not only, as his Friends testified of 
him, ' was he a preacher of lov-e and good 
works, but he practised them.' His testimony 
was against all the pollutions of the world, 
against all pride and the vain fashions and cus- 
toms thereof ; and he laboured that Truth might 
be in dominion, and that such as professed it 
might prosper and grow therein ; so that in his 
ministry, and other services of the church of 



Christ, he was very serviceable, and was pre- 
served unto a good old age, in a holy life and 
exemplary conversation. 

Oliver Sansom was born at a small village in 
Berkshire, on the 8th of 7th month, 1636; of 
parents who were members of the Church of 
England. Wlien about twenty years of age, he 
first attended, at the invitation of a friend, a 
meeting of the people called Quakers ; at which 
he appears to have been convinced of the truth 
of the doctrines preached, and to have expe- 
rienced desires of walking accordingly. His 
own words were, speaking of the testimony he 
then heard, 'I was fully convinced and satisfied 
in myself, that that was the Truth and way of 
God, which was matter of great joy and comfort 
to me ; for I now hoped to go forward, and walk 
in it without any obstruction.' Through the- 
working of the enemy, however, he allowed him- 
self much liberty, and 'made merry over the 
witness within,' until a sickness in 1661 brought 
him low; recovering from which, he abstained 
from his 'former vain courses, was much reformed 
in his conversation, yet through the workings of 
the grand adversary upon the weak part, could 
not as yet confess the Lord openly.' 

Whilst living thus, as he says, ' somewhat 
like Nicodemus,' having a love for the Lord in 
his heart, but not daring through weakness to 
follow Him in an open profession of his Truth, 
he married one Jane Bunce, a sober and suit- 
able woman, and still continued to walk in great 
seriousness of mind, and spent much time in 



reading good books, more especially the Holy 
Scriptures; yet did he conceal his judgment, not 
in any part denying the worship which was 
wrong, nor standing up in a testimony for that 
which he was satisfied was right. He met with 
a book written by Isaac Peuington, which was 
of much service to him; and as he conferred not 
with flesh and blood, but looked to the Lord, he 
was made willing to endure the cross; and ci'ied 
earnestly unto the Lord to enable him to walk 
in the way he should go, and for strength to fol- 
low Him therein fully unto the end. 

Friends now began to increase in these parts, 
and persecution raged, so that ' many Friends 
were in prisons, and sufferings grew sharp and 
great,' so that Oliver says, ' I could no longer 
keep back or conceal myself ; but a necessity 
came upon me to show myself, and take my part 
and lot with the sufferers that suffered for righte- 
ousness' sake. Thus were the bonds of faith- 
ful Friends made a means to confirm and em- 
bolden him, and no doubt many others, to 
profess the Truth and right way of the Lord. 

Towards the end of the year 1663, Oliver 
Sansora went to dwell at a place called Boxford, 
near Newbury, in Berkshire ; and diligently 
went to the meetings of Friends, though his wife 
continued to go to the priest's worship. He had 
not been long here, before he had some trouble 
from the parish priest, who proved a great per- 
secutor ; and with whom and his curate, Oliver 
Sansom endeavoured, both by word and writing, 
to set forth and vindicate his principles ; but 



from these parties he met with coutinual perse- 
cution. Time and space forbid our following him 
through his numerous and varied troubles, and 
frequent imprisonments. His goods were con- 
tinuallj distrained, sometimes to the last thing 
he possessed ; yet the Lord blessed his labours, 
and made him thankful that he was counted 
worthy to suffer. He became a great stay and 
support to Friends in those parts, encouraging 
them in their testimony, both by precept and 
example, and writing them valuable epistles of 
comfort and counsel, to remain stedfast to those 
testimonies for which he was so continually in 
bonds. His letters to his wife, who became a 
valuable friend to the Friends of his own and 
other meetings, as well as those he addressed 
to some priests, justices of the peace, &c., are 
full of instruction, sound doctrine, and faithful 
advice. In the language of one of his cotempo- 
raries, ' his letters were grave and seasoned 
with that which made them savoury; and showed 
that he wrote in a sense of the holy Truth he 
professed and suffered for.' He travelled oc- 
casionally in the work of the ministry in this 
country, and twice in that capacity visited 
Friends in Ireland, but his labours wei'e mostly 
in his own and neighbouring meetings. He 
appears, as his journal sets forth, to have availed 
himself of all opportunities to defend the Truth 
and Friends from those reproaches which its 
enemies were constantly throwing on it and 
them, and for its sake and theirs to have wel- 
comed rather than shunned suffering. 



Having borne a faithful testimony at Boxford, 
he believed it right to remove to Farringdon ; 
and at a subsequent period, the Abingdon meet- 
ing growing small, he believed liimself called on 
to go and live there, which tended much to the 
comfort and edification of Friends at that place. 
In each of these situations he was called to suf- 
fer on belialf of those principles which were so 
dear to him. Having reached a good old age, 
with an unclouded prospect of a resting-place 
where 'the wicked cease from troubling,' and 
an assurance of the reward promised to the faith- 
ful, he departed this life at Abingdon, the 23d 
of 2d month, 17 iO. 

Thomas Ellwood, the Friend to whom were 
committed the papers and autobiography of 
Oliver Sansom, and who prepared them for the after liis decease, in a testimony he gives 
of him, amongst other things says: "Though 
he came later into the Lord's vineyard than 
many others, yet from the time he did come in, 
he came not behind many others for painful 
diligence and watchful industry in the work he 
was called to. For the last twenty years or 
more of his life, I knew him well, and conversed 
with him often either personally or by letter ; 
and from the knowledge I thus had of him, and 
the sense which dwells upon my spirit concern- 
ing him, I have this testimony to bear in a 
few words of him, and to his honest and inno- 
cent life; that he was a good steward of his 
Master's treasures ; a faithful dispenser of the 
Divine mysteries committed to him; an inward 



and lieavenly-miiidecl man, more in substance 
than in show ; greater in power than in expres- 
sion ; a man meek and quiet in spirit, yet full 
of zeal : but that so well tempered with and 
governed bj knowledge, that it tended to the 
good of all nor hurt of any. Adorned he was 
with humility, temperance, and self-denial, 
valiant in the Lamb's war, and bold iu defence 
of the Truth ; patient in suffering for the Truth, 
through which he obtained the victory ; so ad- 
dicted he was and wholly given up to the service 
and promotion of the Truth, that lie spared not 
on all good occasions to spend as well as be 
spent therein; contracting his own private ex- 
penses, and rather straitening himself, that (his 
outwai'd estate not being great) lie might be 
able the more freely to lay forth himself and it 
in public services for Truth and Friends. The 
Lord send forth more such faithful labourers 
into his vineyard, and support and bless them 
in their labours therein till their work be 
finished, as He did him; of whom in a word it 
may be said, he lived and died a servant of the 


Yb sous of my people, dissevered in part 

From the nourishing sap of the fruit-bearing vine, 

O why from the stay of your life would ye start 
On the clods or the verdure of earth to recline? 

Enough of the moisture and goodness ye need 

From the root to each fruit-bearing branch to arise, 

Then why should ye seek from the stem to be freed, 
To revel in ampler and grosser supplies? 



Ye surely would prove tlie fair bosom of earth, 
Tho' deck'd in its gayest and brightest array, 

To the branch that hatli straj'cd from the place of its birth, 
A certain — a premature bed of decay? 

Time was when the sons of my people were bold 
To look through the surface of things to their root. 

When tlie springs of corruption they dared to unfold. 
And prob'd to the kernel each fair-looking fruit. 

They saw in the names of the months and the days, 
Tho' ages had past since those names had been given, 

A pagan attempt other gods to empraise 

Than the Lord — the dread ruler of earth and of heaven. 

They saw that the titles of Mister and Miss, 
And the plural addresses so common to one, 

Tho' little suspected, or counted amiss. 

In the lust and the pride of the world had begun. 

They saw and they dared, in despite of its frown. 
To use the plain language of truth and of sense. 

Nor cared they who looked all indignantly down 

From the ramparts of pride with the arras of offence. 

Where now are the vestui-es all spotless and clear 
That covered with brightness the Sons of the Cross? 

And why in our ranks do such numbers appear. 
Their garments so suUied, or loaded with dross? 

And where is the single, the bright-beaming eye, 
Well skilled through the surface of things to divine. 

Corruption's dark features so prompt to descry? — 
Anointed with eye-salve, once more may it sliine. 

Then surely that engine so potent and dread, 

Which bore the stern horrors of war o'er the world, 

Would no more be fostered, no longer be fed. 
Nor silver nor gold to its vortex be hurled. 

Do you ask for the name of a monster so vast. 
And wonder, whatever these numbers may mean? 

On the books of the Bank be your glancing eye cast, 
And there, 'midst the three and the fours, will be seen 
ly. L 



Loans funded, with interest — dire parent of woes, 
Which war lias engendered and left in its train, 

All cut into bits and disposed in long rows, 

Each slice and its owner descriptive and plain.' 

O think if the pitiful price that was paid 

For j'our Master and Lord had been thousands instead, 
That these into stock had been afterwards made, 

And through a long line of succession had sped ; 

Then say could ye ever have chased from your view 
The object for which at the first it was raised? — 

But cease we the heart-rending theme to pursue, 

You start from the thought of such purchase amazed. 

You start — but why should not the wars of your kind, 
Which contracts and loans have but raised and supplied — 

The myriads of souls to destruction consigned 
For whom that Redeemer descended and died — 

Provoke a deep feeling of sorrow and shame 
You ever were joined to a scheme so impure — 

That bright beaming inten st your judgment o'ercame. 
Or the prospect of making your treasures secure. 

Whilst others from far to the standard are teeming 
Oi peace and good- will by your fathers unrolled. 

Is it well for their sons in their tents to be dreaming 
O'er garments of Babel, or wedges of gold? 

Then may the dark days that are over suffice; 

Arise, and in beauty and dignity shine; 
Be your constant adorning the [learl of great price; 

Your treasure, bright deeds of assurance divine. 

1830. (J. H. WiFFEN.) 


Many a man capable of spirit-stirring actions 
has felt himself daunted in tlie presence of the 
high and illustrious, and incapable of faithfully 



uttering the dictates of his conscience. There 
is as much cowardice as flattery in the adula- 
tion which kings and rulers receive ; and to 
speak the plain unvarnished trutli to persons in 
such a station, is a task few appear equal to. 

About the end of the last, and tlie commence- 
ment of the present century, Thomas Shillitoe, 
a good man, of humble birth and limited educa- 
tion, a member of the Society of Friends, re- 
flecting upon the vast responsibility which rested 
upon kings, and the opportunities they possessed 
for improving the moral condition of their people, 
felt it a matter of duty to attempt to obtain 
audience of some of the rulers of the earth. 
According to human probability, nothing seemed 
more unlikely than that such an individual, so 
humble, and in everyway so uninfluential, should 
have opportunities afforded him of unburthen- 
ing his mind of the responsibility which, in this 
matter, lie felt rested upon it. 

Yet the strong desire to do good, the obliga- 
tion to a faithful discharge of what conscience 
dictated, and the reflection that words of truth 
were very seldom spoken to those in the elevated 
sphere he contemplated, all encouraged him to 
persevere in his determination. When Thomas 
Sliiilitoe mentioned his concern to the members 
of the denomination ho belonged to, they heard 
him with respect and affection — for such is their 
wonted manner and feeling — but much encour- 
agement he did not receive, the general impres- 
sion being that the attempt, though in itself 
laudable, was impracticable. 



However, in the year 1794, Thomas Shillitoe, 
accompanied bj a Friend named Stacey, went 
to Windsor, and having some slight knowledge 
of a person holding a subordinate situation iu 
the castle, thej obtained admittance to the 
part where the royal stables were. The hour 
was morning, and, as if Providence smiled ou 
the design of the two Friends, King George 
III. came towards the stables, accompanied 
by two of his nobles, and passed near where 
they were standing. The king observed them, 
and came near as if to give them an opportunity 
of speaking. For an instant the companions 
were not prepared to crave the attention of the 
monarch, and he accordingly turned about, and, 
though still looking towards them, went into the 
stable. Thomas Shillitoe, feeling compunction 
that the first opportunity had been lost, pro- 
posed to follow the King into the stable. This, 
however, the attendants would not permit. But 
the King, hearing their remarks, came out ; 
when Stacey said, ' This friend of mine hath 
something to communicate to the King.' On 
which his majesty raised his hat, and his attend, 
ants ranging themselves on his left and right, 
Thomas Shillitoe advanced in front, saying, 
' Hear, O king,' and, in a discourse of about 
twenty minutes' duration, pressed upon the 
monarch the importance of true religion in per- 
sons of exalted station, and the influence and 
responsibility attached to power. It is to be 
regretted that, in the memoirs of Thomas Shil- 
litoe, there is no account kept of the words of 



tliis address ; a circumstance accounted for by 
the fact of its being entirely unpremeditated 
and extemporaneous. Yet we may infer it did 
not want power, by the effect it produced on the 
roval he irer, who stood with tiie utmost atten- 
tion, ' the tears trickling down his cheeks.'* 

It was said that he did not pursue his diver- 
sion of hunting that day, but returned to the 
Queen, and informed her of what had passed. 

lu the year 1813, the same energetic man 
drew up an impressive religious address to the 
Prince Regent ; and going to Brighton, where 
the Prince then was, in defiance of the remon- 
strances of timid friends, he sought and obtained 
a personal interview, in a manner seemingly as 
accidental as that had been with the King, his 
father, and presented his address. When the 
inaccessible and ceremonious character of George 
IV. is remembered, such an event seems par- 
ticularly striking, and evidences that nothing 
is too difficult for zeal and perseverance to ac- 

The Society of Friends acquiesced in the wish 
of this indefatigable minister to visit the Con- 
tinent of Europe on a religious mission, in which 
he was to do good, as he had opportunity, to all 
men. One circumstance which deeply and pain- 
fully impressed the mind of Thomas Shillitoe, 
was the universal desecration of the first day of 
the week, which he saw almost in every Con- 
tinental town. It seemed to him an imperative 

* See Journal of Thomas Skillitoc, vol. i. p. 21. 

L 3 



duty to remonstrate with the rulers of the people^ 
in reference to the general laxity of morals and 
religion. Consequently, when he was in Den- 
mark, he determined to see the King. He had 
no friend in Copenhagen, either to advise or aid 
him in his undertaking; yet, having resolved 
on it as a matter of duty, he determined to use 
every means to accomplish his object. Accord- 
ingly, learning the name of the prime minister, 
he went to him and requested his influence in 
obtaining him an audience with the King. This 
bold request, though urged with all the mild 
self-possession of native courtesy, startled the 
prime minister, who, gazing on the attire of the 
person making such a request, said, ' You do 
not mean to appear before the King in those 
clothes, do you ?' With the utmost simplicity, 
Thomas Shillitoe says, in his journal, ' I told 
him I had no others with me, as it was uncer- 
tain I should want my best until summer. I 
had left them at Altona, intending to furnish 
myself with winter clothes when I reached Nor- 
way.' The nobleman smiled at this frank reply, 
and promised, on the following morning, to pro- 
cure the applicant the interview he wished. 

Accordingly, the following day, Thomas Shil- 
litoe was introduced to the King of Denmark, 
with whom he faithfully remonstrated on the 
desecration of the Lord's-day tliroughout his 
dominions, and also took occasion to remark on 
the sinfulness of that species of gambling known 
by the name of lotteries, which the Government 
licensed, and by which many poor deluded people 



were reduced to ruin. It required no small 
effort of moral courage to enable an obscure 
stranger thus to speak to a King, in reference 
to the institutions and abuses existing in the 
land. His communication was heard with in- 
dulgent attention, and from this it is but reason- 
able to infer that good was done. 

In 1823, this same indefatigable man drew 
up an address on religious subjects, and pre- 
sented it to George IV., at Windsor, where, 
waiting in the long walk of the park, when the 
King was taking an airing in his pony-chaise, 
Thomas Shillitoe presented the address, by 
order of the King, to the Marquis of Conyng- 
liam. Some few words of religious admonition 
were added, which, when they were concluded, 
the King politely said, 'I thank you,' and de- 
parted on his drive, most probably impressed 
with the singular, yet solemn manner and ap- 
pearance of his Immble monitor. 

In 1824, Thomas Shillitoe was again on 
the Continent, visiting scliools, hospitals, and 
prisons. When in Prussia, he felt the same 
desire, as on former occasions, to have an 
audience with the Kin<j, and a most interestina: 
interview was the result of his endeavours. 
The audience with the King of Prussia took 
place in the garden of the palace of Berlin. 
Tliomas Shillitoe, in the first place, presented 
a petition in reference to the persecution of a 
member of the Society of Friends, in conse- 
quence of his refusing to serve as a militarv 
man. This the King received graciously, and 



pi'omised that no man in his dominions should 
be persecuted for conscience sake. After this, 
the faithful Shillitoe added a solemn admoni- 
tion, in reference to the duty of persons in 
authority to be ' a terror to evil-doers, and a 
praise to them that do well,' and to rule their 
people iu righteousness. The King not only 
listened with attention, but promised to profit 
by the admonition. 


Probably the most interesting of all the visits 
paid by this faithful minister of the gospel to 
royal personages, was that to Alexander, the 
late Emperor of Russia, and brother to the 
present Emperor Nicholas. 

In the year 182o, Thomas Shillitoe visited 
Russia, and beholding in Petersburg the same 
desecration of tlie First-day, and general laxity 
of morals, lie was induced to address a circular 
to all the Protestants inhabiting that city, re- 
monstrating with them, and showing the neces- 
sity there was for their being more consistent 
iu life and conduct, so as to be lights in tlie 
darkness of an evil world. The opportunity 
of obtaining an audience of the Emperor, to 
press upon him also the necessity of this im- 
proveraeut, was not so difficult as iu other in- 
stances. Thomas Shillitoe was now known and 


lionoured ; the religious body of which he was 
a member, was highly esteemed by Alexander. 
There were several of that denomination in 
Russia. William Allen and Stephen Grellet, 
eminent members of the Society of Friends, 
were known to, and esteemed by, the Emperor. 
Moreover, Alexander was a very superior man, 
and exhibited, in his high and difficult position, 
many of those virtues which are most uncommon 
in the atmosphere of a court. On the evening 
of the 26th of the 12th month, Thomas Shillitoo 
was received at the back entrance of the palace 
at Petersburg, and was ushered into the pre- 
sence of the most absolute monarch in Europe, 
when we consider his unlimited authority, 
though its exercise was restricted by modera- 
tion and prudence. The venerable messenger 
of truth, for he was now advanced in years', 
began boldly to inform the Emperor of tlic 
abuses and oppressions that existed under his 
government. The liberty of the press had be- 
come so restricted, that the Moravians had been 
unable to procure the printing of their new- 
year's hymn ; and also that the address, pre- 
pared by himself and before alluded to, could 
not, under existing restrictions, be translated 
and printed; and, therefore, he added, 'I should 
not be able faithfully to acquit myself in the 
Divine sight in this mattei-, but by giving the 
address in charge to him whom I was to con- 
sider the father of his people ; desiring, as I 
, most fervently did, the Divine wisdom would 
l| be pleased to direct him in the right disposal 



of it.' On which the Emperor cordially received 
the address. After some farther conversation 
on important religious subjects, the Emperor 
was pleased to give, very pathetically, the fol- 
lowing testimony, which, under the circum- 
stances, is an important historical fact, in the 
personal character of Alexander, which is wor- 
thy of being far more widely known that it now 
is — 

' Before I became acquainted with your reli- 
gious society and its principles, I frequently, 
from my early life, felt something in myself, 
whicli, at times, gave me clearly to see that I 
stood in need of further knowledge in Divine 
things than I was then possessed of.' After 
speaking of the influence of the Holy Spirit in 
awakening and renewing his soul, he added, 
' My mind is at times brought under great 
suffering to know how to move along ; I see 
things necessary for me to do. and things neces- 
sary for me to refuse complying with, which are 
expected from me. You have counselled me to 
an unreserved and well-timed obedience in all 
things ; 1 clearly see it to be my duty ; and this 
is what I want to be more brought into the ex- 
perience of; but, wlien I try for it, doubts come 
into my mind, and discouragements prevail ; 
for, although they call me an absolute monarch, 
it is but little power I have for doing that which 
I see it to be right for me to do.' 

Nothing could exceed the condescension of 
the Emperor at this interview ; he commanded 
the humble Friend to sit beside him on the same 



sofa, and, dismissing his attendants, communed 
•witli him as with a friend and equal. 

Before Thomas Shillitoe quitted Petersburg, 
he was favoured with another interview, and 
experienced similar tokens of his message being 
accepted with candour and attention. These 
instances are very instructive, as evidences of 
the power of truth, when faithfully uttered, to 
overleap the barriers which human pride and 
expediency have raised between man and man, 
and to bring the humblest and the highest 
human beings together, as creatures equal in 
the sight of Him, before whose throne ' rich and 
poor meet together,' for ' He is the Maker of 
tiiem all.' Addresses of congratulation, praises, 
homage, flattery — these are words that usually 
meet the ears of kings and rulers. It is tliought 
a great honour wlien a private individual succeeds 
in presenting some message of an adulatory 
character to such elevated individuals ; how 
much greater the dignity, how noble the moral 
heroism of him, who, strong in the strength of 
the gospel, knowing little, and caring less, for 
the ceremonies of courts, sees in a King only a 
responsible human being, and feels that trutli 
is as imperative in an address to him, and cau- 
tion and counsel as much needed by him, as by 
any other of God's creatures ; and, therefore, 
frankly and fearlessly, but with all Cliristian 
courtesy, ventures to warn and to admonish in 
the name of the Most High. — (Shillitoe's Jour- 
nal, vol. ii. p. 104.) ^ 




It was not to the high and illustrious, to the 
great and powerful, that Thomas Sliillitoe's 
visits and labours of love were alone directed. 
It also pleased his Divine Master to lay upon 
him the duty of visiting the most depraved and 
abandoned of the human family, and of warning 
and pleading with those who were either en- 
couraging or coiauiving at their evil practices. 

In his travels, especially in Ireland, lie beheld 
with sorrow the great number of places where 
ardent spirits were sold, the crowds of persons 
who frequented them^ and the degrading and 
brutalizing effects produced by this pernicious 
article, particularly on the poorer classes ; sub- 
verting everything like a sense of religion, de- 
stroying the physical and mental powers, and 
involving its victims in squalid wretchedness 
and poverty. He had not long witnessed the 
misery produced by these drinking houses, be- 
fore he felt constrained to visit the keepers of 
them in certain parts, and to plead personally 
with them and their visitors against their evil 
practices ; notwithstanding the prospect, at 
times realized, of meeting with insult and abuse. 

The first meeting of this kind was in the town 
of Waterford, in company with Elizabeth Ridg- 
way, a Friend who had a similar concern. 
Their service was not confined to the keepers of 
the houses, but frequently extended to the com- 
pany sitting in them to drink ; who mostly be- 
haved respectfully, and heard quietly what they 



had to offer. Yet they met with a few instances 
of the contrary, and some of the remarks made, 
as well as the crowd that followed them from 
house to house, were very humiliating. But as 
they endeavoured to keep near in spirit to their 
Holy Helper, they were strengthened in an 
admirable manner, to go through the service, 
and to deliver ' all the counsel of God ' among 
those dark spirits, settled down apparently in 
gross superstition and iguorance. Even among 
these, they often found a door of entrance for 
the gospel message, and returned home at 
length, with hearts truly contrited, under a 
fresh sense that all things are possible with the 
Most High. 

Soon afterwards Shillitoe felt it his duty to 
visit the drinking-houses at Carrick-on-Suir, 
and Ross, in company with the same female. 
On entering Carrick, they became the subjects 
of much remark. They generally found both 
houses and hearts open to receive them and 
what they had to communicate. They were 
followed from liouse to house by crowds of 
people. Thomas's account states, that ' although 
the houses would be so filled, that there did not 
appear to be room for another to squeeze in, 
yet quietness soon prevailed, and was in a re- 
markable manner preserved, especially whilst 
we were engaged in delivering our message. 
Truly we may say this was the Lord's doing ; 
and that we were able to attain to any quiet in 
ourselves is marvellous in our eyes. By endea- 
vouring to keep in the patience, and to have 

IV. M 



our minds clothed with that love which would 
have all gathered, taking quietly such insults 
as were otfered, and any opposition to what we 
had to communicate, the veil of prejudice would 
generally give way ; love would beget love, and 
make way for free and open communication. 
Sometimes, on entering a house, we found per- 
sons in a state of intoxication. Their com- 
panions, aware of our errand, boasted they 
would have liquor, calling out for large quan- 
tities. But on our appearing not to notice 
them, but to take our seats quietly amongst 
them, others would take pains to keep them 
still, and in time, all has been hushed into 
silence, as much so as I have known in our own 

In 1810, he again felt it his duty to visit 
Ireland. Soon after arriving there, he engaged 
in visiting the drinking-houses at Clonmel, and 
several other towns. A few extracts from his 
own account of these visits, will furnish some 
idea of their trying character, as well as of the 
marvellous manner in which he was helped to 
perform them. In speaking of the visit at 
Clonmel, he says — ' My companion used often 
to say, it seemed as if the Good Master went 
into the houses before us to prepare the way. 
Such were the feelings of solemnity we met with 
on entering the houses, and when sitting with 
the keepers of them, and their customers, that 
at times it seemed much like paying a family 
visit among Friends. 

' At Callen, the crowd that gathered around 



U3 was very interrupting, and they behaved in 
an uncivilized manner ; yet my mind was pre- 
served quiet, feeling the necessity of letting 
them see that my dependence was placed on 
the Supreme All-powerful Preserver of the 
universe.' In some of the towns, whose inhabit- 
ants were principally Papists, bigotry and super- 
stition prevailed to a very great extent ; and 
the priests had endeavoured to prejudice the 
people against them. After concluding the 
visits to the drinking-houses, it was his practice 
to visit either the magistrates, or the bishops 
and priests ; and sometimes he did not feel 
clear until he had faithfully spoken to all. 

The following account of one of these inter- 
views will furnish an example of the uncom- 
promising manner in which he spoke what he 
believed was required of him : — ' On our arrival 
at the house, we were ordered up stairs, where 
the bishop received us with great civility, ushered 
us into a room, brought me a chair, placing it 
opposite to a sofa on which he took his seat. 
My companions taking seats also, we dropped 
into silence ; which I broke, by saying a visit 
had been paid to the drinking-houses in Kil- 
kenny, which I supposed he had been acquainted 
with; to which he replied, "Well ?" I observed, 
that in performing this visit, my fears, and the 
various reports I had heard were fully confirmed 
— that the laity profess to believe the clergy 
have full power to forgive their sins; adding, 
the people may be so deceived as to believe the 
priest has this power, but I did not believe it 

M 2 



possible the clergy could believe it themselves. 
Aad, therefore, as their superior, to wliom the 
people were taught to look up for counsel, I de- 
sired he would look to the Almighty for help, 
and, as he valued his own precious soul, as 
ability was afforded him, endeavour to turn the 
minds of the people from man unto God and 
Christ Jesus, who only can forgive sins; other- 
wise he would incur a load of condemnation too 
lieavy for him to bear in the great day of ac- 
count, when the deceiver and the deceived would 
be all one in the sight of God, whether actively 
or passively deceiving the people. That, at 
times, when considering the subject, it was my 
belief, that if the Almighty had one vial of 
wrath more powerful than another, it would be 
poured out upon those who thus deceived the 
people. Here I closed for the present. He 
manifested great confusion, shutting his eyes, 
as not being able to look me in the face. A 
pause ensued. After a while, he began by say- 
ing it was very indecorous and unchristian in 
me to come to his house, a sti'anger to him, and 
from another land, and address him in such a 
manner, charging him, a man of so much ex- 
perience in the church of God, with being a de- 
ceiver ; saying, surely I must be mistaken. I 
told him it was in love to his soul, and under 
an apprehension of religious duty. He called 
upon me to produce my authority for my mis- 
sion. I told him my authority was in my own 
breast. I queried with him, " Are not the people 
thus deceived ? Do they not believe the clergy 



liave power to forgive tlieir sins ? Art thou 
endeavouring to undeceive tliem? for the clergy 
cannot be so deceived as to believe this power 
is vested in them." Exhorting him to be will- 
ing to co-operate with that Divine help, which, 
if rightlj sought after by him, would be extended, 
whereby ability would be received to undeceive 
the people ; again reminding him that the de- 
ceiver and deceived were all one in the sight of 
God, and that it continued my firm belief, if the 
Almiglity had one vial of his wrath more power- 
ful than another, it would be poured out on 
those who thus deceived the people, whether 
actively or passively engaged therein. He said 
he believed I meant well, and that he commended 
my principles, but he could not say he thanked 
me for my visit. I expected at times he would 
turn me out of the room. We rose from our 
seats to take our leave, when the bishop clasped 
I my hand, and, holding it, paused, saying, " I 
believe I may say, I feel thankful for it " (the 
visit). Requesting us to take some refresh- 
ments, he kindly conducted us to the stairs 
again, and we parted, never more to meet on 
this side of eternity.' 

In the year 1811, Thomas Shillitoe was again 
engaged, still more extensively, in visiting the 
drinking-houses in some of those cities and 
towns in Ireland which had before been omitted. 
In these, as at other times, he was concerned, 
not only to set before them the evil consequences 
of taking strong drink, but also to point out to 
them the sure way of life and salvation ; with 

M 3 



the absolute need there was of ceasing from all 
dependence on man, and of depending simply 
on the Lord alone for salvation. Many insults 
and reproaches were offered to him, but, having 
an evidence in his own mind that he was fulfill- 
ing a duty laid upon him by his Divine Master, 
he was carried through them all. He had in- 
deed frequently the satisfaction of believing that 
the opportunities were signally owned ; great 
seriousness and solemnity being obviously pro- 
duced in minds often of the most abandoned 

A description of one of the six hundred visits 
he paid to the drinking-houses in the city of 
Dublin, will show the humiliating nature of the 
service, and the manner in which he was enabled 
to warn and exhort those whom he met with in 
those sinks of dissipation and vice. He says, 
' We proceeded to Barrack Street. The first 
house we entered made a deplorable appearance. 
It was very early in the morning, yet we found, 
on descending the steps into the drinking-room, 
which resembled a cellar, the window-frames 
and glass broken, and several young women, 
without shoes, stockings, or caps, dancing to 
the fiddle. We made towards the room set 
apart for the keepers of the house, where we 
met with the mistress. Requesting, if she had 
a husband, to have his company, he soon made 
his appearance. I endeavoured to lay before 
them what arose, althougli I found it difficult 
to get fairly relieved. The fiddle, and at times 
the screaming of the dancers, was a great inter- 



ruption. The man remained quiet for a short 
time, and then left us, the woman appearing to 
have the management of the house. What I 
had to saj brought her to tears. On inquiry, 
I found she had children; I therefore requested 
her seriouslj to consider what would be her 
conclusion respecting tlie conduct of any person 
who should harbour her children, and suffer 
them to go on in such wicked practices as she 
was now encouraging the young girls in under 
her roof, who might be without parents or friends 
to take charge of them, saying I did not wish 
for a hasty reply. She confessed she should 
think they acted a cruel part. I therefore en- 
treated her to attend to that Divine monitor 
in her own breast, which she confessed she at 
times witnessed to be near, which would clearly 
make known to her the necessity to rid her 
house of such company as she now harboured; 
which would be one way whereby she might 
hope for the Divine blessing on honest en- 
deavours for the support of herself atid family, 
otherwise she must look for a blast following 
them every way. She continued tender, and, 
at our parting, in a feeling manner, expressed 
her desire that what had been communicated 
might be profitably remembered by her. After 
receiving her warm expressions of gratitude, we 
proceeded to leave the house ; but, on reaching 
the steps of the entrance, my attention was 
again arrested, and I found I must be willing 
to return into the apartment where the dancing- 
was going forward, and quietly submit to any 



insults that might be the result of my being 
found in the way of my duty. On my com- 
panion being informed hereof, he appeared tried 
as well as myself ; but I found it would not 
bring peace to our minds to hesitate. We 
therefore turned back ; which the woman of the 
house observing, came and stood by us, I sup- 
posed to prevent any rude behaviour that might 
be offered. I requested the man who had the 
fiddle to cease playing and take his seat, which 
he complied with ; and those who were dancing 
to do the like, v/hich each one yielded to. The 
scene exhibited in different parts of this large 
room, if it were possible fully to describe, would 
produce a picture of as great human depravity 
and misery as well can be conceived. On a 
bench near us lay young girls, overcome with 
their night's revelling and drunkenness, past 
being roused by anything that occurred around 
them ; others, from the same causes, reclining 
on the tables, barely able to raise their heads 
and open their eyes, and altogether incapable of 
comprehending what was going forward. Com- 
panies of men and women, in boxes, wei'e in 
other parts of the room drinking. Strength 
was received to utter what was given me ; and, 
after I had been sometime engaged in address- 
ing this band of human misery, I think I shall 
not, whilst favoured with mental powers, wholly 
lose sight of the distress and horror portrayed 
in the countenances of those young women who 
had ceased their dancing. Feeling my mind 
relieved, and being about to depart, such of the 



company as were equal to it arose from their 
seats, acknowledging their gratitude for the 
labour that had been extended, and their desire 
that what had been sajd might not be lost upon 
them, and that a blessing might attend us. My 
back was towards the door, and, not hearing a 
footstep of those who came in while we were 
engaged, when we turned to go out I was sur- 
prised at the addition made to our company. 
My companion remarked that it appeared as if 
something brought an awe over their minds on 
entering, and they quietly took their seats, and, 
when tlie seats were full, others sat on the 

At the conclusion of these labours, he felt it 
required of him to visit the mayor, sheriff, and 
police magistrates, as well as the Romish and 
Protestant bishops ; endeavouring to lay before 
tlio Romish bishop, in particular, the great re- 
sponsibility that rested on him, from the im- 
plicit dependence which the people placed on 
tlio priesthood, and the sorrowful account those 
will have to give in a future day who are en- 
couraging the people in this reliance on them- 
selves, instead of turning their attention to 
Christ within, the hope of glory. 


In 1812, Thomas Shillitoe believed it required 
of him to unite with a female minister, in pay- 



ing a religious visit to an organized company of 
desperate characters, who for nearly fifty years 
had infested the neighbourhood of Kingswood ; 
who lived by plundering, fobbing, horse-stealing, 
and other evil practices, and were so great a 
terror to the neighbourhood that it was con- 
sidered dangerous to travel on the roads infested 
by them. In the prosecution of this trying ser- 
vice, which extended not only to 'the gang,' as 
these robbers wei"e called, but also to the fami- 
lies of miners and colliers living in that section 
of country, Thomas and his companion were 
often obliged to travel by night; but they were 
mercifully raised above apprehensions of danger, 
through faith in the protecting care of Him, 
who, they believed, had called tliem forth. They 
were favoured, from time to time, with memor- 
able evidences of the sufficiency of His almighty 
power to subdue the strong wills, and soften the 
hard hearts of wicked men. While pleading 
with these abandoned characters respecting their 
evil practices, they were often made sensible 
that the Divine witness in their hearts was 
reached ; their hearers acknowledged the truth 
of what they had to say, and expressed their 
obligations for the counsel given. 


How shall a being fomcd of dust. 

Be qualified to join the jiist? 

Ask Philpotts Of Sir Herbert Fust, 

By water ! 



Or how shall mortals ' born in sin ' 
Be rendered free from dross or tin. 
And more than Ophir's gold to win ? 

By water ! 

Thus, they who break commandments ten. 
And kill in troops their fellow-men, 
Have at the font been ' born again,' 
By water I 

But some there are who still suspect 
That nominals, whate'er tlieir sect. 
Can never prove themselves ' elect,' 
By water I 

That, when disease is from within, 
'Tis there specifics should begin ; 
Inadequate to cleanse from sin 

Is water ! 


It is a delightful and animating reflection to the 
sincere Christian, that every occurrence of his 
life is under the immediate notice and subject 
to the control of his heavenly Father. 

He contemplates Him as an ever present and 
Almighty friend, whom no difficulties can baffle, 
no unforeseen accidents surprise ; whose counsel 
is proffered to guide him safely through all the 
intricate and perplexing snares of life ; to sanc- 
tify his afflictions, to moderate his joy in pros- 
perity, and so to control the course of his per- 
sonal concerns, as that ' all things shall work 
together for his good.' — [From William Ed- 





The sports and diversions which are used to 
obtain what is falsely called pleasure, are the 
inventious of degenerate and coiTupt minds, 
who being ignorant of that solid satisfaction of 
soul which is of an enduring nature, vainly at- 
tempt to supply the want of it by those pleasures 
which end iu anxiety and sorrow. 


Marriage implies union as well in spiritual as 
temporal concerns. Whilst the parties differ in 
religion they stand disunited in the main point, 
even that which should increase and confirm 
their mutual happiness, and render them meet- 
helps and blessings to each other. 


A slave-holder observed to Joseph Sturge, that they (the 
slave-holders) were no more guilty than those who pur- 
chased the products of the slave's labour. 

Gladly do I look upon thee. 

Woven cotton, pure and white, 
With a hopeful joyous feeling, 
For to me thou art revealing 

Truths which glow in freedom's light. 

Not in outward seeming only, 

Art thou spotless, white, and fair. 
Slavery's touch hath never curs'd thee, 
Freedom in her arms hath nurs'd thee. 
And bestowed a beauty rare. 


Freemen gi-ew the snowy cotton, 

Freemen picked, and spun, and wove; 
Now let all who bate oppression, 
And would stay a foul transgression, 
Of the Christian law of love. 

Let them buy the stainless fabric, 

Guiltless of a brother's woe, 
Let them aid the blest endeavour. 
Slavery's guilt to slay for ever. 

And the monster overthrow. 

That no slave can breathe in England, 

Boasts the ' Empress of the Sea,' 
"When her soil the bond-man touches. 
Loosed from slavery's hopeful clutches, 
Lo ! lie stands erect and free. 

Yet for England's sons and daughters. 
Slaves are toiling night and day : 

Toiling, weeping, bleeding, dying. 

Unto Hni their blood is crying, 
Who hath said, ' I will repay.' 

O ! let lis renounce for ever. 

All things cursed by slavery's touch. 

Feeble though each effort be, 

By the might of unity, 
We should then accomplish much. 

Let us seek to win the blessing. 

Which the Saviour gave to one. 
Who the costly ointment poured, 
Whilst her ^Master she adored, 

' AVTiat she could, that hatli she done.' R. 
4JA Month, 1849. 


One of the early instruments in gathering the 
church in the neighbourhood of Aberdeen was 

146 select miscellanies. 

George Gray, a poor weaver, but a man of rery 
good repute for sincerity and the correctness of 
his life. He received from his Divine Master a 
gift in the ministry of the gospel; and though 
poor as to this world, and barely acquainted 
with the very rudiments of learning, the word 
of God's wisdom dwelt richly in him, and his 
understanding became much enlarged in reli- 
gious experience. Being, through watchfulness, 
preserved and directed in the exercise of his 
ministerial gift, he was made instrumental to 
the edification and great refreshment of the 
Lord's heritage. Many indeed confessed their 
admiration at the excellent matter, utterance, 
and connection observed in the preaching of 
one so devoid of human learning, and yet so 
thoroughly furnished, in all respects, unto his 
holy calling. 

Thus was clearly held up to view what it is 
that constitutes the best adorning of gospel 
ministers, and what is the only right qualifica- 
tion for speaking 'as the oracles of God.' — 
(Hodgson's Memoirs.) 



An aged minister, whilst on a visit to some 
Friends in Ohio, told them he had been con- 
vinced of the principles of Friends in rather a 
remarkable manner, whilst yet a youth and a 



soldier lying in garrison, the particulars of which 
be related as follows — 

The Ohio now the great aquatic highway to 
the West, was then but rarely crossed by white 
people, and all these now populous regions were 
wilderness, inhabited by Indians, and a few scat- 
tered settlers. He, the narrator, was then a sol- 
dier under twenty, and lying in garrison on the 
frontiers. One day an old Quaker preacher, called 
Thomas Bales, then eighty years of age, who had 
devoted himself for years to visiting these solit- 
ai'y dwellers, and to civilizing the Indians, was 
taken prisoner by a party of soldiers, and brought 
to the Fort on suspicion of being a spy. He 
was ordered up before the whole garrison to be 
tried, and declared himself to be no spy, but a 
man of peace and a preacher of the gospel. To 
prove whether his words were true, he was 
ordered to preach a sermon. After a short 
time of solemn silence he addressed them, 
and, if he had been the apostle Paul himself, 
he could not have preached much more effec- 

When his sermon was ended, the officers in- 
vited him to dine with them ; but he declined 
their offer. They were convinced that he was 
indeed a minister of the gospel, and after many 
excuses and apologies on their part, allowed him 
to go his way. 

The effect of his sermon was not soon effaced 
from the minds of many, and among the rest, he 
who now related the circumstances soon after- 
wards obtained his discharge, joined the Society 

N 2 



of Quakers, and became himself a celebrated 
preacher amongst them. 

The old preacher, Thomas Bales, nothing 
daunted by what had happened, continued to 
wander about preaching as before, and a few 
years afterwards fell sick and died on one of his 
remote journeys. There were in the place where 
he died, no sawn planks of which to make a 
coffin ; the trunk of a white walnut ti'ee was 
therefore hollowed out by fire, and in this his 
body was laid, and he was interred in the depths 
of the forest, where, for the purpose of his 
grave, the white man's spade then first turned 
up the sod. — {Cousins in Ohio, hy Mary Howitt.) 


The patriarcb worshipped leaning on his staff! 

And well, methinks, it were, it' such our creed 

That we, in every hour of truest need, 
From the same hidden fount could inly quaff; 
We trust in outward aids too much by lialf ! 

Could we within on ' living bread ' but feed. 

And drink of living streams, our souls would heed 
All hindering helps but as the husk and chaff. 

Then every day were holy ! every hour 
Each heart's true homage might ascend on high. 
Ascribing to the Eternal Majesty, 

And to the Lamb, thanksgiving, glory, power. 

Now and for ever ? till the ample dower 
Of earth's full praise with that of heaven should vie. 

(Berxard Barton.) 


Knowledge is the treasure, but judgment the 
treasurer, of a wise man. He that has more 



knowledge than judgment, is made for another 
man's use, more than for his own. That cannot 
be a good constitution, where tlie appetite is 
great, and the digestion weak. There are some 
men, like dictionaries, to be looked into upon 
occasion ; but who have no connection, and are 
little entertaining. Less knowledge than judg- 
ment will always have the advantage over the 
injudicious knowing man. A wise man makes 
what he learns his own ; the other shows he is 
but a copj, or a collection at most. — (William 


Form is good, but not formality. In the use of 
the best of forms there is too much of that, I 
fear. It is absolutely necessary that this dis- 
tinction should go along with the people in their 
devotion; for too many are more apt to rest 
upon what they do, than how they do their duty. 
If it were considered, that it is the frame of the 
mind that gives our performances acceptance, 
we should lay more stress on our inward pre- 
paration than our outward action. — (William 



It is remarkable, say they, that this act of wor- 
ship, which is the most solemn of the whole 

N 3 



mass, is performed in silence. The Church has 
prescribed no words at all, by which the priest 
is to express his adoration. The reason is, be- 
cause each individual can, on so interesting a 
moment, form the acts which suit himself best 
— or rather because the most perfect way of all is, 
to adore in absolute silence, when every power of 
the body and soid are absorbed and lost in the con- 
templation of the God who is present. — (Gloveu 
on the Mass.) 


The Scriptures, then, are a Divinely authorized 
record of religious truth. If I am told that 
there is much in the Bible which even the 
learned cannot understand, some things, per- 
haps, which the wicked have perverted to evil 
purposes, I would observe, in reply, that in this 
respect tliere is an obvious analogy between 
the written tvord, and the works of God ; for 
there is much also in the science of nature it- 
self, which the wise cannot comprehend, and 
which the vicious have misapplied to evil. And 
I would further remark, that the Scriptures are 
not intended to gratify the curiosity, or to illu- 
minate the speculations, of worldly wisdom, but 
to instruct the humble and devotional reader ; 
and to teach the simple and the meek the way 
to heaven. To such as these, whatever be their 
condition in life, or their measure of mental 
cultivation, the Bible, as to every main doctrine. 



and every practical principle, is explicit aud 
intelligible. While the Divine law is so accord- 
ant with the conclusions of profound reasoning, 
that the most enlightened philosophers have 
yielded to it their willing homage ; it is also so 
plain, that when it is received with simplicity 
and godly sincerity, ' The wayfaring man, though 
a fool, cannot err therein.' — (J. J. Gukney's 


Anne Curtis, discoursing with [Justice !] Ar- 
morer, about the illegality of locking people out 
of their own houses, which had just been done 
at Thomas Curtis 's upon a distraint, he granted 
there was no law for it, but said the King and 
council were above all ; he had a warrant from 
them, and would do it ; threatening withal that 
he would not leave her a cup to drink out of. 
He then put padlocks on two of the doors, and 
ordered the constable to fetch away the re- 
mainder of the Friend's goods. — (Besse, vol. i. 
p. 19.) 


When some of his courtiers endeavoured to ex- 
cite Philip the Good to punish a prelate who 
had used him ill, ' I know,' said ho, ' that 1 can 
revenge myself ; but it is a fine thing to have 
vengeance in one's power, and not to use it.' 
— (Cope's Anecdotes.) 





If 'tis the Eternal's dread decree, 

That brother shall with brother fight ; 
And laurelled England shrouded be 

In revolution's awful night ; 
If come it must, that threatening day, 
When power its fearful debt shall pay. 

And o'er the earth, and in the flood, 

Roll the dark tide of human blood ; 
If wealth must bid our shores fivrewell, 

And rank its errained robes forego ; 
And fancy break her tuneful sheU, 

Or only wake its chords to woe ; 
When that dread hour's destructive strife 
Shall rend the dearest ties of life ; 
And, like the storm's o'erwhelming blast. 
To earth both cot and palace cast ; 
Let me, a worm, a thing of dust. 

To thy dear cross, my Saviour, flee ! 
To luieel, to weep, to pray, to trust, 

And bless those ills which lead to thee ! 
1 2th Month , 1 S3 1 . ( Amelia Opie. ) 


A YOUNG man who had been long confined with 
a diseased limb, and was near his dissolution, 
was attended by a friend, who requested that 
the wound might be uncovered. This being 
done — ' There,' said the young man, 'there it 
is, and a precious treasure it has been to me ; 
it saved me from the foUj and vanity of youth ; 
it made me cleave to God as my only portion, 
and to eternal glory as my only hope ; and I 



think it has now brouglit me very near my 
Father's house.' What an illustration of the 
words, * It is good for me that I have been 
afflicted ! ' — (Cope's Anecdotes.) 


George Markham,* vicar of Carlton, in York- 
shire, instituted a vexatious and expensive 
process in the Exchequer, against several mem- 
bers of the Society of Friends, for the recovery 
of small tithes. This process was of many years' 
continuance, and was very ruinous to the parties, 
and excessively cruel and oppressive, because 
he might have obtained his end by a much more 
summary and less expensive proceeding. The 
result was, that seven of these persons, all in low 
circumstances, and dependent on their industry, 
and the parents of thirty-four children, had 
their property sequestered by tliis hard-hearted 
man, and were committed to York castle, in 
1795, where they remained in confinement for 
several years, during which time one of them 
died in prison ; the rest were at length liber- 
ated by a special clause inserted in an act of 
Parliament for the express purpose. 

The following lines were addressed to the 

* To prefi.x Reverend to his name, as is the usual prac- 
tice, but always objectionable, would be a gross abuse of the 
term in this instance. 



Friends under confinement in York castle 
1795, by T. B. 

Sufferei-s for good, and not for ill, who find 
That e'en in suffering peace can clothe the mind ; 
O may you still, in conscious virtue brave, 
Stem, without shrinking, persecution's wave. 
Oit in your lonely hours remember those 
Who ako suffered from infuriate foes, 
Children of light, who now are doubtless blest, 
Richly rewarded in the realms of rest. 

Whene'er the beam of truth, divinely bright, 
Has shed a radiance through suiTounding night, 
From ancient times we find, in dread amaze, 
Oppression rising to withstand the blaze. 
Witness the trials that a Saviour stood 
TiU persecutors shed his holy blood ; 
Witness the pains his faithful followers bore 
Who suffered death on Palestina's shore ; 
What thousands since, by fiery bigots led. 
In manj- a land with holy zeal have bled. 
O think, niy friends, how virtue's sacred ray 
Illum'd their dungeons with celestial day, 
Relaxed their chains, and, in the final scene, 
Blest their pure spirits with a joy serene. 

INIay peace be yours, though prisons be your doom. 
And may her presence dissipate their gloom. 
Remember Daniel, how as wont he prayed. 
Nor the decree of tyrant power obey'd ; 
May he who saved him in the lions' den 
Preserve you fearless of the frowns of men. 
And, if his will sees meet, ere long restore 
From pensive durance to your Friends once more. 

And, O ! may we through life's uncertain day, 
Whate'er om- lots, for resignation pray ; 
So shall his presence chase the darkest shade 
By human power or human weakness made ; 
And, when the chequered scenes of time are past, 
Conduct us safely to his heaven at last. 




Lincolnshire, 1G57. — Edmund Wooley, riding 
through Boston to a meeting, was fined for 
travelling on the Sahhath, and had his horse 
taken from him, bj the Major's order. He 
was shortly afterwards committed to Lincoln 
jail for tithes ; and died, after being a year in 
prison. He was a faithful and conscientious 
man, acknowledged to be so even by his perse- 
cutor, who said, he believed Edmund would 
have paicf him his tithes, had he thought them his 
right. — (Besse, vol. i. p. 347.) 


Some Friends, testifying the gospel of the grace 
of God amongst their neighbours, in the town 
of Old Meldrura, in Scotland, on a market-day, 
had no sooner finished, than they were griev- 
ously abused by the bailie of the town, John 
Urchart, who beat them violently. Immediately 
after, as the account states, this furious op- 
ponent was seized with very sore pains in his 
bones, and throughout his body, which continued 
upon him for the greater part of a year. His 
conscience was, at the same time, so awakened 
by this circumstance, that he often confessed 
his wickedness in thus ill treating those who 
sought his good, promising never to do the like 
again. — (Jaffray's Friends in Scotland.) 





O I WHEN such valiants, from this wayward scene, 
Are called to glory and to peace serene, 
How does the foe, with contumelious voice, 
Throughout his councils and his ranks i-ejoice. 

Do thou, O God, deride his haughty boast. 
And dart confusion through his impious host ; 
Again the wanderer from thy camp invite. 
And teach their fingei-s and their hands to fight ; 
Rouse other heroes from repose profound, 
AVith veteran zeal thine awful trump to sound. 
So shall the troop of opposition yield, , 
Retreating recreant from the conquer 'd field. 
And leave tlie bannere of thy love unfurl'd, 
Trlulnphant waving o'er the subject world. — (T. B.) 


A CERTAIN Scotch pricst at Statli, walking with 
George Fox, asked him many questions, which 
lie answered fully. But, after they parted, he 
met Philip Scarth, another priest, and, break- 
ing his cane against the ground, he said, in 
anger, ' If oyer I meet with George Fox again, 
I will haye his life, or Fox shall have mine ;' 
adding, that 'he would giye his head, if George 
Fox was not knocked down within a month.' 
Yet, what is maryellous, this same Scotch priest, 
afterwards joined the Quakers, and George 
Fox visited him at his own house. Philip 
Scarth was also convinced, and became an ac- 
ceptable minister. — (Sewell's History.) 




Benevolence is not in word and in tongue, but 
in deed and in truth. It is a business with men 
as they are, and with human life as drawn by 
the rough hand of experience. It is a duty 
which you must perform at the call of principle ; 
though there be no voice of eloquence to give 
splendour to your exertions, and no music of 
poetry to lead your willing footsteps through 
the bowers of enchantment. It is not the im- 
pulse of high and ecstatic emotion. It is an 
exertion of principle. You must go to the poor 
man's cottage, though no verdure flourish around 
it, and no rivulet be nigh to delight you with 
the gentleness of its murmurs. If you look for 
the romantic simplicity of fiction, you will be 
disappointed ; but it is your duty to persevere 
in spite of every discouragement. Benevolence 
is not merely a feeling, but a principle ; not a 
dream of rapture for the fancy to indulge in, 
but a business for the hand to execute. — (Dr. 


Use moderation in your manner of living, and 
in this way seek relief from the increasing ex- 
pense of the times in which we live, rather than 
by engaging in more extensive, and often hazard- 
ous schemes of trade. By these latter means 
the mind becomes encumbered, and unfitted for 
i-eligious service, yea, often for religious thought, 

JV. o 



and for breathing daily after the spiritual riches, 
which are to be enjoyed in close communion 
with God. Consider how distant that state 
which would give up all to Ilini, if required, is 
from that whicli indulges itself in ease to the 
full extent of its power, or is endeavouring by 
multiplied adventures in trade, to acquire that 
power which it covets for the purpose of worldly 
enjoyment. — {American Almanac.) 


Anthony Benezet, in a conference with General 
Chevalier de Chastelleux, said to him, " I know 
that thou art a man of letters, and a member 
0 f the Fi-ench Academy. Men of letters have, 
for some time past, written many good things ; 
they have attacked errors, prejudices, and more 
than all, intolerance ; will they not at last try 
to disgust mankind with war, and make men 
live amongst each other like friends and 
brothers ? — [Memoirs of Count Segur.) 


' And Abraham hastened into the tent, unto Sarah, and 
said, Make ready quickly three measures of fine meal, 
knead it, and make cakes upon the hearth ; and Abraham 
ran unto the herd, and fetched a calf, tender and good, and 
gave it unto a young man ; and he hastened to dress it.' — 
(Gen. xviii. C, 7.) 

The custom of baking cakes, under the hot 
embers, on the hearth ; and of fetching a calf 



from tho herd, or a lamb from tho fold, still pre- 
vails in the East, at the present day. Upon 
inquiring for meat at Delphi, we found there 
were no butchers in the place ; neither was it 
the custom to serve single joints of meat, as in 
England; this inconvenience was, however, in 
part, supplied by the kindness of our landlord ; 
who went the nest day to the flock, fetched a 
lamb, and dressed it for us. It was roasted 
whole, and we partook of part of it ; while the 
remainder served us for refreshment upon our 

When the weather is fine, travellers are ac- 
customed to dine in the woods, or in the open 
fields ; and when they can find a stream of pure 
water, it greatly adds to the enjoyment of the 

During this noontide rest, the mules are let 
loose to graze on what herbage they can find, 
which, during summer, is very scarce. Travel- 
lers sometimes sleep under the trees; and the 
refreshment taken in this way is much more 
agreeable than in the dirty huts. On arriving 
at the khan, or house of call, the traveller is 
shown into an unfurnished room, not always 
waterproof : a garden mat is laid upon the floor, 
but if lie does not carry his own matress with 
him, he must frequently sleep without one. At 
an Albanian colony, near to Athens, we obtained, 
through the authority of the mayor, a shelter for 
the night in the cottage of an old woman, who 
seemed a little startled at the appearance of 
strangers, whose language she could not under- 

o 2 



stand. Concluding, however, that we had the 
common wants of nature, and having no bread 
to offer us, she quickly prepared a little meal, 
made a cake, and baked it on the hearth, under 
the ashes. We made signs to be furnished with 
a vessel, in which we might prepare a little 
chocolate, our frequent repast under such cir- 
cumstances ; and, at length, a very rough, 
homelj-lookiug pitcher was produced ; but the 
greater difficulty was to find something, in which 
to boil the milk and water. After waiting till 
their own soup had been prepared, we obtained 
the use of the same pan. These difficulties be- 
ing overcome, we enjoyed our meal ; and offered 
some to a travelling Greek woman, who had 
walked beside our mules for the sake of com- 
pany, on her dreary journey to Athens ; but she 
refused, with thanks, saying, Den emai arreste, 
— I am not sick : for the Greeks seldom take 
beverage of this sort, except when they are in- 

As the inmates of this homely cottage, as well 
as the neighbours, who usually come in, to see 
travellers of our uncommon appearance, did not 
understand Greek, we were deprived of the op- 
portunity of reading the Holy Scriptures to 
them, or of conversing with them on the subject 
of religion, according to our custom. All that we 
could do, was to prepare for rest, of which we 
stood in great need, having had a very fatiguing 
ride through the woods, to this place. The room 
ill which we had taken shelter, was also to be our 
sleeping-place, in common with the old woman 



and her family, and the Greek traveller ; in an- 
other part of the same room, were also a sheep, 
and several other animals. 

We swept, as clean as we could, a space in the 
neighbourhood of the quiet sheep ; and spread 
what bedding we had, upon the mud floor ; sur- 
rounded it with our baggage, except our carpet- 
bags, which served us for pillows ; and, after com- 
mending ourselves and our household to the 
protecting care of the great Shepherd of Israel, 
we obtained some refreshing repose. 

' And he lift up his eyes, and looked, and, lo ! 
three men stood by him : and when he saw them, 
he ran to meet them from the tent-door, and 
bowed himself toward the ground, and said. My 
Lord, if now I have found favour in thy sight, 
pass not away, I pray thee, from thy servant,' 
«fec. — Gen. xviii. 2, 3. 

It is believed, by biblical writers, that the 
most dignified of the angels who visited Abra- 
ham, and remained with him after the other 
two had departed, and who conversed with him 
in the first person — as JEHOVAH — was a 
manifestation of the Blessed Messiah. 


FniEND of God ! how great thy pleasure. 
When thou hailed the strangers near; 

Didst thou know what hidden treasure 
Visited thy little sphere? 

No; 'twas philanthropic feeling 

Spread with food tlie social board, 
AVhen thy guests, their power revealing. 

Told thee their commissioned word. 




Precious word ! how rich in blessing ! 

That a son thine age should grace, 
Through whose seed (aU power possessing}, 

God would bless the human race. 

Yet soon thy joy was veiled by sorrow, 

When thou saw the avenging rod 
Raised over Sodom — ere the morrow, 

Doomed to destruction by her God ! 

Ah ! then how fervent was thy pleading 

For ten — if righteous, still to spare; 
How rich the mercy, all acceding ! 

But, alas ! not ten were there .' 

Servant of God ! thy kind petition, 

Though vain, was hallowed by the Lord; 

That great High Priest who, through thy mission, 
Was worshipped, honoured, and adored. 

Thou saw His day in faith and gladness; 

Beheld i'rom far that glorious plan. 
Which should destroy all sin and sadness. 

And raise to glory fiiUen man ! 

(Yeaudley's Eastern Customs.) 


' With the same measure that thou metest, it 
shall be measured to thee again,' is a solemn 
axiom which was often strikingly verified in tlio 
case of the persecuted Quakers, as their records 
testify. One insfanee in particular may be pro- 
fitably related ; because it is soothing to remark 
that sincere repenta.nce (as we may humbly hope) 
mingled with and ameliorated the bitterness of 
that cup of retributive justice which, in this 
case, the offender was required to drink of. 



The individual alluded to was one Matthew 
Hide, a person of some note in the city of 
London, who had made it his business, for the 
space of nearly twenty years, publicly to con- 
tradict the Quakers in their meetings, and, as 
far as he could, to disturb them in their mode 
of worship. It would seem, however, that a 
blind zeal to put down what he considered as 
heresy was his motive for acting thus, rather 
than any furious hatred against their retired 
and serious devotions ; which, as being so con- 
trary and reproving to the bustle and stir of the 
fleshly mind, was, no doubt, the great offence 
for which they were generally so much opposed 
and ill-used. 

It was not by noise and clamour, but by gain- 
saying what they advanced, that this man in- 
terrupted the preaching of ministers amongst 
Friends ; insomuch that William Penii would 
sometimes pray very earnestly for his repent- 
ance, and tell him, in the presence of many 
auditors, that God would assuredly plead with 
him by his righteous judgments, and that the 
time would come in which he would be forced 
to confess the sufficiency of those vei-y principles 
which he then opposed. 

This prophetic warning, at the close of many 
years, was at last affectingly verified; for tliis 
Hide being by sickness brought to the brink of 
death, began to take that new and distinct view 
of things which is seldom or never taken in times 
of health and worldly prosperity. O ! it is an 
easy thing to dispute about truth, and to con- 



tend for one way against another, whilst wo 
appear to have time enough before us to follow 
which wo choose! But when the soul is brought 
into that amazing state in which an untried 
eternity is before it, tJiat which brings into peace 
with God — that (call it by what name you will, 
deride it how you may) — that which has power 
to support, to comfort, and to direct in times of 
tribulation, that is found to be the truth — the 
tried and everlasting truth. And now, in the 
hour of his grea.t exigency, when principles were 
to be proved, this man was reminded, by the 
monitor within, of those of Friends. Well es- 
sayed, well proved, doubtless, he had seen them 
oftentimes, himself having been one that had 
helped to try them. Ah ! there was no chaff 
there, no vain words without a meaning, no 
letter doctrines, dry and dead as the unbelief 
to which they spake, no empty notions, no sap- 
less, lifeless phraseology, but Christ the true 
Vine, the good Shepherd, breaking the bread of 
life through his own true and faithful servants, 
these were things he remembered, and, alas ! 
remembered also that they were things which 
he had mocked and rejected ! 

But though it were so, ho believed that, as 
the ministers of a merciful Lord, he had but to 
ask their attendance at his dying bed, and the 
request would be granted. He therefore desired 
that George Whitehead and some of his friends 
might be sent for ; and, although it was late in 
the evening when the message was delivered to 
them, they immediately visited him. 



' I am come, ' said George Whitehead, ' in 
love and tenderness to see thee.' 

' I am glad to see you,' said Hide. 

' If thou hast anything upon thy conscience,' 
said Whitehead, 'I would have thee to clear it.' 

To this Hide returned for answer, that what 
be had to say he spoke as in the presence of 
God. ' As Paul was a persecutor of the people 
of the Lord,' he said, ' so have I been a perse- 
cutor of you his people.' He added more, but, 
being extremely weak, his words could not well 
be understood. 

' Thy understanding being darkened,' said 
Whitehead, ' when darkness was over thee, thou 
didst gainsay the truth and people of the Lord, 
and I knew that that light which thou didst op- 
pose would rise up in judgment against thee. 
I have often, with others, laboured with thee, to 
bring thee to a right understanding.' 

To this Hide made answer by again declaring, 
as in tlie presence of God, that he had done evil 
in persecuting Friends, and that he was heartily 
sorry for it ; adding, ' The Lord Jesus Christ 
show mercy unto me ; and the Lord increase 
your number, and be with you ! ' 

After some interval of silence, George White- 
head addressed him with an earnest entreaty 
to ease his conscience of every burden tliat op- 
pressed it. ' My soul,' said he, ' is affected to 
hear thee thus confess thy evil, as the Lord 
hath given thee a sense of it. In repentance 
there is mercy and forgiveness, in confessing 
and forsaking of sin there is mercy to be found 



with tlic Lord, who in the midst of judgment 
remembers mercy, that he may be feared;' and, 
after a little more discourse, and some intervals 
of silence, he tenderly inquired, ' How is it with 
thy soul ? Dost thou not find some ease ?' 

'I hope I do,' answered the dying man, 'and 
if the Lord should lengthen out my days, I 
should be willing to bear a testimony for you, 
as publicly as I have appeared against you.' 

' And if the Lord should not lengthen out thy 
days,' said Whitehead, ' dost thou desire that 
what thou sayest should be signified to others?' 

* Yes,' he replied, ' I do ;' and, perceiving him 
to be suffering much from weakness and want 
of breath, George Whitehead and his friends 
took their leave of him, commending him to the 
mercy and forgivenness of God. 

As this occurred on the last day of the week, 
he several times desired, after the Friends had 
withdrawn, that he might be permitted to live 
till the next day ; since, as it was on a Sabbath 
that he had most often opposed them in their 
meetings for worship, he now wished on that 
day to bear witness in their favour. But this 
was not allotted to him, for he died in about 
two hours after the above interview ; signifying 
before he departed that he was favoured to 
feel some relief in his spirit. — (Kelty's Early 

Thomas Lower, who had interest at court, his 
brother being the King's physician, remonstrat- 



ing with the persecutors of his fathor-in-law, 
George Fox, the Chairman threatened him also ; 
to which he replied, whether they sent Mm to 
prison or no, he intended to go and icait upon his 
father there ; for that was now his business. 

Then said Justice Parker to him, ' Do you 
think, Mr. Lower, that I liad not cause to send 
your father and you to prison, when you had 
such a great meeting that the parson of the 
parish complained to me, that he had lost the 
greatest part of his parishioners ; so that, when 
he comes among them, he has scarce any 
auditors left ? ' 'I have heard,' replied Thomas 
Lower, ' that the priest of that parish comes so 
seldom to visit his flock, but once, it may be, 
or twice in a year, to gather up his tithes, that 
it was but charity in my father to visit such a 
forlorn and forsaken flock ; therefore thou hadst 
no cause to send my father to prison for visit- 
ing them ; or for teaching, instructing, and 
directing them to Christ their true teacher, 
who had so little comfort or benefit from their 
pretended pastor, who comes amongst them 
only to seek for "his gain from his quarter!" ' 

Upon this the Justices fell a laughing, for, it 
seems. Dr. Crowder, the priest alluded to, was 
sitting among them, though Thomas Lower did 
not know him ; and he had the wit to hold his 
tongue, and not undertake to vindicate himself 
in a matter so notoriously known to be true ! 




Mart Knowles was the wife of Dr. Knowles, 
an eminent and much esteemed physician in 
London. This ladv, says Mrs. Pilkington, in 
her Female Biography, was no less distinguished 
for the possession of superior talents than for 
a blameless purity of life. Her religious tenets 
were those of Quakerism, the utmost liberality 
of sentiment being displayed in her mind. She 
excelled in the polite arts of poetry and paint- 
ing, and was particularly distinguished for the 
perfection to which she brought the imitation 
of nature in needlework. This latter accom- 
plishment procured her an introduction to the 
Queen, who expressed a wish to see her, and 
who became no less pleased with the beauty of 
her performances, than with the justness and 
solidity of her remarks. This, and subsequent 
interviews witli George III. and his Queen, led 
to her undertaking a representation of the King 
in needlework, which she completed, to the 
entire satisfaction of their Majesties. 

Mary Knowles became a great favourite with 
the King and Queen, and had frequent access 
to the Royal Family, where she presented her- 
self in the simplicity of her Quaker dress, and 
was always graciously received. On one occa- 
sion of her visiting them, she brought her only 
son, then about five years old, and presented 
him to the King, who inquired of her his name;; 



she answered, George — the King seemed to feel 
the compliment, and bowed very complacently. 
Mary Knowles then proposed, with the King 
and Queen's permission, that lier little boy 
should recite some lines she had composed, to 
whicli they assented ; and he repeated the fol- 
lowing stanzas, at which the King and Queen 
and Royal Family laughed heartily : — 

Hero, royal pair, your little Quaker stands, 
Obscurely longing to salute your hands; 
Youiij; MS he is, he ventures to intrude, 
And lisps a parent's love and gratitude. 

Though with no awful services I'm come. 

Forbid to follow iSIar's dire tliund'ring drum ^ 

My faith no warlike liberty hath given. 

Since ' peace on earth ' sweet angels sung in heaven. 

Yet I will serve my prince as years increase. 
And cultivate the finest arts of peace. 
As loyal subjects, then, great George, by thee. 
Let genuine (Quakers still protected be. 

Though on inc, as a nursling, mamma doats, 
I must, I will, shake off my jjctticoats; 
1 must, I will, assmne the man this day, 
I've seen the king and queen ! huzza! huzza! 

Mary Knowles accompanied her husband in 
a scientific tour through Holland, Germany, 
and France, wlierc they obtained introduction 
to the most distinguished personages. fShe was 
admitted to the toilet of the lato unfortunate 
Queen of France, by the particular desire of the 
latter. The appearance of a female in the attire 
of a Friend, was somewhat extraordinary to that 
IVincess, who made many inquiries respecting 

IV. P 



the principles of the Quakers, and acknowledged 
tliat at least they were philosophers. 


In 1700, when John Richardson was about to 
visit his brethren in America and the West 
Indies, on a gospel mission, he went on board 
a ship in the Thames with some Friends, to 
inquire and consider about a passage. He de- 
clared he saw nothing but death and darkness 
there, and that he must not go in her. They 
selected another vessel ; and the rejected one 
was lost, going out, and about seventy people 


During the year 1 682, died Edward Burrough, 
a witness unto death for the cause of a good con- 
science toward God. By a process of mental 
experience and refinement, he had been brought 
to a knowledge of the truth ; and, about the 
eighteenth year of his age, his Divine Master saw 
fit to make use of him to sound the glad tidings 
of the gospel to his fellow-men. His ministry 
was powerful and reaching, his doctrine sound, 
and his language eloquent ; having learned in 
the best school, that of Christ himself, and been 
prepared for the ministry, by the immediate 
teachings of the Spirit of trutli, gradually lead- 



ing unto the living experience of holiness, and 
clothing him with ardent desires for the salva- 
tion of mankind. 

His own example gave efficacy to his ministry. 
He lived as he advised others to live, in the fear 
of his Maker, and in a sense of his omnipresence. 
His natural disposition was bold and manly, 
tempered with innocence ; his conversation 
affable and instructive, circumscribed by great 
watchfulness over himself. His Christian cour- 
age in the fulfilment of his duty was remarkable, 
an instance of which is recorded at page 222, 
vol. ii., of these Miscellanies. 

He travelled in many parts of England, Ire- 
land, Scotland, and Flanders, in the exercise of 
his ministerial gift, meeting with repeated suf- 
ferings and imprisonments. But his principal 
field of labour was London and its neighbour- 
hood, where his ministry was effectual to the 
conversion of many. His gospel solicitude for 
the inhabitants of that city was so warm that, 
when persecution grew hot, he said to his bosom 
friend, Francis Howgill, 'I can freely go to that 
city, and lay down my life for a testimony to 
that truth which I have declared through the 
Spirit and power of God.' And being this year 
on a visit to Friends in Bi-istol, in taking leave 
of them, he said he did not know that he should 
see their faces an^ more, and therefore exhorted 
them to faithfulness ; adding to some, ' I am 
now going up to Loudon again, to lay down my 
life for the gospel, and suffer among Frien-ds in 
that place.' 

1- 2 



About that time the rage of persecution was 
such, that it was estimated there were five hun- 
dred Friends at one time in prison in London 
alone ; and the Friends who met for Divine 
worship at the ' Bull and Mouth ' meeting, near 
the centre of the metropolis, were particularly 
exposed to the merciless violence of the magi- 
strates and soldiery. The soldiers came sev- 
eral successive First-days with muskets, lighted 
matches, pikes, and halberds, conducted by an 
officer with a drawn sword in one hand, and a 
cane in the other. They usually entered with 
violent rushing and uproar, to terrify t!io as- 
sembly, commanding the people to be gone ; 
and then shamefully attacked both men and 
women with canes and clubs, threatening to fire 
at them, and even striking them with swords 
and the butt-ends of their muskets, in such a 
manner that some fainted away, and others 
survived their injuries but a short time. 

On one occasion, when the meeting was near 
breaking up, Major-General Richard Brown 
entered the house, with a party of men with 
drawn swords, in a manner rude and terrifying 
beyond expression, and, ordering the doors to 
be made fast, they fell upon the innocent as- 
sembly, engaged in the most solemn act of wor- 
shipping their Maker, and, without regard to 
age or sex, dealt such unmerciful and unmanly 
blows on men and women with tlieir swords and 
cudgels, cutting, bruising, and levelling those be- 
fore them, as bore an appearance of open hostility 
beyond what had ever been seen in a time of 



peace. Six or eight together being knocked down, 
were dragged out, and laid in the gutters sense- 
less, and apparently half dead with the wounds 
and bruises they had received. Their blood 
flowed visibly in the street, so that the passers 
by, struck with compassion for this unolleiiding 
people, cried ' Shame ' upon the perpetrators, 
and for their compassionate expressions obtained 
also their share of similar abuse. Many of these 
Friends were so much injured as to keep their 
beds for a considerable time, and one died of 
the wounds he there received. Thomas Ellwood 
was among those thus seized on one of these 
occasions, along with many more Friends ; and 
the prisons in London were literally thronged 
with this people for several months. 

Not long after Edward Burrough's arrival in 
London this year, he attended this meeting; 
and, while he was preaching the gospel, he was 
violently pulled down by soldiers, and com- 
mitted, with many others, to Newgate prison. 
Here, being thrust into crowded rooms, among 
the vilest felons, besides the great annoyance 
to which, from the filthy character of these 
criminals, and the dirty state of the prison, 
Friends were subjected, they were also witnesses 
of such vile and wicked conduct and conversa- 
tion as brought grief and sorrow on their souls. 
Having lain here some weeks, he was brought 
to trial at the Old Bailey, fined by the court 
twenty marks, without authority of the law, and 
condemned to lie in prison till he should pay 
the fine. As the deed for which he and his 



brethren were condemned, viz., meeting for the 
worship of God, was in their estimation no 
crime, but rai act of indispensable dutv to their 
Maker and Redeemer, and as a voluntary and 
active compliance with the penalty would have 
been a tacit confession of guilt, a giving awaj 
of the cause, and a baulking of their testimony 
to the truth, they durst not, for conscience sake, 
pay the fine ; so that this sentence amounted to 
perpetual imprisonment, unless released by the 

Being thus immured in prison with six or 
seven score of liis Friends, and so many crowded 
into one room as to make it even suffocating, 
many of them grew sick and died ; of which 
number he was one. A special order from the 
King was sent to the sheriff for his release and 
that of some others, but so implacable was the 
malice of some of the city magistrates, that 
they found means to evade the execution of this 
order. Edward being consequently still detained 
in prison, his disease gained upon him, and 
threatened approaching dissolution. But this 
holy man being raised above the fear of death, 
supported by the consolatory review of a life 
spent in the service of his Creator, and com- 
forted by a consciousness of no wilful omission 
of duty, and an inward sense of freedom from 
the power and guilt of sin, through the effectual 
operation and atonement of Him who came to 
put au end to sin and take away its guilt, he 
made the following solemn and affecting ap- 
peal; — 'I have had the testimony of the Lord's 



love unto me from my youth ; and my heart, O 
Lord, hath been given up to do thy will. I have 
preached tlie gospel freely in this city, and have 
often given up my life for the gospel's sake. 
And now, O Lord, rip open my heart, and see 
if it be not right before thee I ' Again he said, 
' There is no iniquity lies at my door ; but the 
presence of the Lord is with me, and his life, I 
feel, justifies me.' His friends about him he 
exhorted ' to live in love and peace, and love 
one another;' and, praying for his enemies and 
persecutors, he said, ' Lord, forgive Richard 
Brown, if he may be forgiven ' — who was the 
chief agent of the persecution. Being sensible 
that his dissolution drew near, he thus memor- 
ably expressed his faith : — ' Though this body of 
clay must turn to dust, yet I have a testimony 
that I have served God faithfully in my genera- 
tion ; and that spirit that hath lived, and acted and 
ruled in me, shall yet break forth in thousands.^ 
The morning before his departure, he said) 
' Now my soul and spirit is centred into its own 
being with God, and this form of pei'sou must 
return whence it was taken ; and shortly after- 
wards he expired, having been a zealous preacher 
of righteousness about ten years, though only 
in the twenty-eighth year of his age. 


Richard IIdbbertiiorn was another of those who, 
violently dragged away from the meeting at the 



' Bull and Mouth,' finished their earthly course 
in 16G2, in prison, for the testimony of a pure 
conscience. He had been a soldier in the army 
of the Commonwealth, but early joined George 
Fox in the better warfare against sin and spiri- 
tual darkness; and receiving ability to direct 
others in the sure way to the kingdom of heaven, 
became one of the first and most eminent mini- 
sters of the Society of Friends. But, after 
many travels and deep sufferings for the cause 
of truth, being seized this year at the aforesaid 
meeting, he was carried before that implacable 
magistrate, Richard Brown ; who, giving vent 
to his passion as usual, pulled this inoffensive 
man down by the hat, with such fury that he 
brought his head almost to the ground, and 
then committed him to the noisome prison of 

His infirm constitution was so affected with 
the throng and vitiated air of this doleful place, 
that he presently grew sick ; and, after about 
two months' imprisonment, was taken away by 
death. His end exhibited the happy result of 
a life spent in righteousness and the pursuit of 
peace ; being enabled in his last moments to 
look forward, ia full assurance of faith, to the 
near approach of future happiness. To some 
of his friends he expressed, that ' he knew the 
ground of his salvation, and was satisfied for 
ever of his peace with the Lord ;' and, at another 
time, he said, ' Tliat faith which liath wrought 
my salvation I well know, and have full 
satisfaction in it.' The greatest part of the 



time of his sickness he passed in inward retire- 
ment and meditation, in great resignation and 
stillness; and, towards his close, he requested 
his friends not to hold him, for the body was too 
strait for him, and he was to be lifted np on 
high, far a.boye all mortal or corporeal restraints. 
And thus, in a frame of mind prepared for an 
entrance into the kingdom of glory, he finished 
his earthly course, and doubtless obtained that 
eternal reward laid up for those who are faithful 
unto death. 


A SCENE sequestered from the haunts of men, 
The loveliest work of all that little glen. 
Where weary pilgrims found their last repose : 
The little heaps were ranged in comely rows, 
With walks between, by friends and kindred trod. 
Who dressed with duteous hands each hallowed sod. 
No sculptured monument was taught to breathe 
His praises whom the worm devoured beneath ; 
The high, the low, the mighty, and the fair, 
Equal in death, were undistinguished th.'re ; 
Yet not a hillock mouldered near that spot. 
By one dishonoured, or by all forgot ; 
To some warm heart the jioorest dust was dear, 
From some kind eye the meanest claimed a tear, 
And oft the living, by affection led, 
AVere wont to walk in spirit with their dead ; 
Where no dark cypress cast a doleful gloom. 
No blighting yew shed poison o'er the tomb. 
But wliite and red, with intermingling Howera, 
The graves looked beautiful in sun and showers ; 
Green myrtles fenced them, and beyond that bound 
Ran the clear rill with ever-murmuring soimd. 
'Twas not a scene for grief to nourish care. 
It breathed of hope, it moved the heart to prayer. 





Some notice of William Bartram, and his son 
John, appeared in vol. ii. pp. 105-8 of these 
Miscellanies. Further interesting particulars 
respecting the latter having come to hand, they 
are here inserted : — - 

John Bartram, it appears, established the 
first botanic garden in America ; and, in pursuit 
of his favourite study, pei"formed numei'ous 
journeys with unwearied vigour and dauntless 
courage, amongst the fiercest and most jealous 
of the Indian tribes. Graham, in his Ilistorxf 
of the United States, after enumerating various 
individuals by whom the sciences of botany and 
zoology were cultivated with ardour and success, 
says, but by none with greater genius and 
celebrity than Jolin Bartram, a Pennsylvaniau 
Quaker, and farmer, whom Linnajus pronounced 
to be the greatest natural botanist in the world. 
He was elected a member of the most illustrious 
societies and academies in Europe, and a pro- 
fessor of botany in the university of Pennsyl- 
vania ; and, before his death, received the ap- 
pointment of American botanist to the King of 

The compiler of these Miscellanies, when re- 
cently in the United States, met with a large 
8vo. volume of nearly 600 pages, just published, 
entitled. Memorials of John Bartram and Hum- 
phrey Marshall {his cousin), loith Notices of their 
Botanical Contemporaries. This volume'contains 
much interesting information, and a mass of 



correspondence, chiefly on botanical subjects, 
prefaced by a biographical sketch of John Bar- 
tram, from which the following letter is ex- 
tracted, for insertion here, purporting to be 
from a Russian gentleman, descriptive of a 
visit to the Pennsylvanian botanist in 1769. 
It is admirably graphic, exhibiting pleasant 
traits of truthful simplicity. 'The fidelity of 
the portraiture therein sketched,' observes the 
author of the Memorials, 'will not be questioned 
by any one having the slightest knowledge of 
the history, character, and pursuits of John 
Bar tram.' 

Letter from Iwan Alexiowitz, a Russian gentleman ; 


Pennsylvanian botanist.* 

Examine this flourishing province, in whatever 
light you will, and the eyes, as well as the mind, 
of a European traveller, are equally delighted ; 
because a diffusive happiness appears in every 
part — happiness which is established on the 
broadest basis. The wisdom of Lycurgus and 
Solon never conferred on man one-half of the 
blessings and uninterrupted prosperity which 
the Pennsylvanians now possess — the name of 
Penn, that simple but illustrious citizen, does 
more honour to the English nation than those 
of many of their Kings. 

In order to convince you that I have not be- 

* The compiler lias altered the ungrammatical use of 
' thee' to ' thou' in this letter, and has corrected a few other 
slight inaccuracies. 



stowed undeserved praises in my former letters 
on this celebrated government, and tliat either 
nature or the climate seems to be more favour- 
able here to the arts and sciences than to anj 
.other American province — let us together, 
agreeably to your desire, pay a visit to Mr. John 
Bartram, the first botanist in this new hemi- 
sphere, become such by a native impulse of 
disposition. It is to this simple man that 
America is indebted for several discoveries, and 
the knowledge of many new plants. I had been 
greatly prepossessed in his favour by the exten- 
sive correspondence which I knew he held with 
the most eminent Scotch and French botanists ; 
I knew also that he had been honoured with 
that of Queen Ulrica, of Swedeu. 

His house is small, but decent ; there was 
something peculiar in its first appearance, which 
seemed to distinguish it from those of his neigh- 
bours ; a small tower in the middle of it, not 
only helped to strengthen it, but afforded con- 
venient room for a staircase. Every disposition 
of the fields, fences, and trees, seemed to bear 
the marks of perfect order and regularity — 
which, in rural affairs, always indicate a pros- 
perous industry. 

I was received at the door by a woman dressed 
exti'emely neat and simple, who, without cour- 
tesyiug, or any other ceremonial, asked me, 
with an air of benignity, who I wanted ? I 
answered, 'I should be glad to see Mr. Bartram.' 

' If thou wilt step in and take a chair, I will 
send for liim.' 



' No,' I said, ' I had rather have the pleasure 
of walking through his farm ; I shall easily find 
Iiim out, with your directions.' 

After a little time I perceived the Schuylkill, 
winding through delightful meadows, and soon 
cast my eyes on a new-made bank, which seemed 
greatly to confine its stream. After having 
walked on its top a considerable way, I at last 
reached the place where ten men were at work, 
I asked if any of them could tell me where Mr. 
Bartram was ? An elderly-looking man, with 
wide trousers and a large leather apron on, look- 
ing at me, said, * My name is Bartram — dost 
thou want me ? ' 

' Sir, I am come on purpose to converse with 
you, if you can be spared from your labour.' 

' Very easily, ' he answered ; ' I direct and 
advise more than I work.' 

We walked toward the house, where he made 
me take a chair while he went to put on clean 
clothes ; after which he returned and sat down 
by me. 'The fame of your knowledge,' said I, 
' in American botany — and your well-known 
hospitality — have induced me to pay you a 
visit, which I hope you will not think trouble- 
some. I should be glad to spend a few hours 
in your garden.' 

' The greatest advantage,' replied he, ' which 
I receive from what tl»ou callest my botanical 
fame, is the pleasure which it often procures me 
in receiving the visits of friends and foreigners. 
But our jaunt into the garden must be postponed 
for the present, as the bell is ringing for dinner,' 

IV. y 



We entered into a large hall, where there 
was a long table full of victuals ; at the lowest 
part sat his negroes, his hired men were next, 
then the family and myself ; and at the head, 
the venerable father and his wife presided. 
Each reclined his head and said liis prayers, 
divested of the tedious cant of some, and of the 
ostentatious style of others. 

'After the luxuries of our cities,' observed 
he, ' tliis plain fare must appear to thee a severe 

' By no means, Mr. Bartram ; this honest 
country dinner convinces me that you receive 
me as a friend and an old acquaintance.' 

' I am glad of it, for thou art heartily wel- 
come. I never knew how to use ceremonies ; 
they are insufficient proofs of sincerity ; our 
Society, besides, are utterly strangers to what 
the world calls polite expressions. We treat 
others as we treat ourselves. I received yester- 
day a letter from Philadelphia, by which I under- 
stand thou art a Russian ; what motives can 
possibly have induced thee to quit thy native 
country, and to come so far in quest of know- 
ledge or pleasure ? Verily it is a great com- 
pliment to this our young province, to think 
that anything it exhibits may be worthy, tliy 

' I have been most amply repaid for the 
trouble of the passage. I view the present 
Americans as the seed of future nations, whicli 
will replenish this boundless continent. The 
Russians may be in some respects compared to- 



you ; we, likewise, are a new people — new, I 
mean, in knowledge, arts, and improvements. 
Whoknows what revolutions Russia and America 
may one day bring about ! We are, perhaps, 
nearer neighbours than we imagine. I view 
with peculiar attention, all your towns — I ex- 
amine their situation, and the police — for which 
many are already famous. Though their foun- 
dations are now so recent, and so well remem- 
bered — yet their origin will puzzle posterity as 
much as we are now puzzled to ascertain the 
beginning of those which time has in some 
measure destroyed. Your new buildings, your 
streets, put me in mind of those of the city of 
Pompeii — where I was a few years ago ; I at- 
tentively examined everything there, particu- 
larly the footpath which runs along the houses. 
They appeared to have been considerably worn 
by the great number of people which had once 
travelled over them. But now, how distant ! 
neither builders nor proprietors remain ; nothing 
is known ! ' 

' Why, thou hast been a great traveller, for 
a man of thy years.' 

'Few years, Sir, will enable anybody to journey 
over a great tract of country ; but it requires a 
supei'ior degree of knowledge to gather harvests 
as we go. Pray, Mr. Bartram, what banks are 
those which you are making ; to what purpose 
is so much expense and so much labour be- 
stowed ? ' 

' Friend Iwan, no branch of industry was 
ever more profitable to any country, as well as 



the proprietors. The Schuylkill, in its many 
windings, once covered a great extent of ground, 
though its waters were but shallow even in our 
highest tides ; and though some parts were 
almost dry, yet the whole of this great tract 
presented to the eye nothing but a putrid 
swampy soil, useless either for the plough or 
for the scythe. The proprietors of these grounds 
are now incorporated ; we yearly pay to the 
treasurer of the company a certain sum, which 
makes an aggrega.te superior to the casualties 
that generally happen, either by inundations or 
the musksquash.* It is owing to this happy 
contrivance that so many thousand acres of 
meadow have been rescued from the Schuylkill 
[and Delaware], which now both enriches and 
embelHshes so much of the neiglibourhood of 
our city. Our brethren of Salem, in New 
Jerse}', have carried the art of banking to a 
still liigher degree of perfection.' 

' It is really an admirable contrivance, which 
greatly redounds to the honour of the parties 
concerned, and shows a spirit of discernment 
and perseverance which is highly praiseworthy ; 
if the Virginians would imitate your example, 
the state of their husbandry would greatly im- 
prove ; I have not heard of any such association 
in any other parts of the continent ; Pennsyl- 
vania, hitherto, seems to reign the unrivalled 

* Musquash, the Indian name of the mush-rat (Fiber 
zibethicus, Lin.); an animal well known in the tJnited 
States for its troublesome operations of burrotving in em- 
bankments along streams. 



queen of these fair provinces. I'ray, Sir, wliat 
expense are you at, ere these grounds bo fit for 
the scythe ? ' 

' The expenses are very considerable, parti- 
cularly when we have land, brooks, trees, and 
brusii to clear away ; but such is the excellence 
of these bottoms, and the goodness of the grass 
for fattening of cattle, that the produce of three 
years pays all advances.' 

' Happy the country where nature has be- 
stowed such rich treasures ! Treasures superior 
to mines;' I said, 'If all this fair province is 
thus cultivated, no wonder it has acquired such 
reputation for the prosperity and the industry 
of its inhabitants.' 

By this time the working part of the family 
had finished their dinner, and had retired with 
a decency and silence which pleased me much. 
Soon after I heard, as I tliought, a distant con- 
cert of instruments. ' However simple and 
pastoral your fare was, Mr. Bartrara, this is 
the dessert of a prince ; pray, what is this I 
hear ? ' 

' Thou must not be alarmed ; it is of a piece 
with the rest of thy treatment, friend Iwan.' 

Anxious, I followed the sound, and, by ascend- 
ing the staircase, found that it was the eff'ect of 
the wind through the strings of an iEolian harp, 
an instrument which I had never before seen. 
After dinner we quaffed an honest bottle of 
Madeira wine, without the irksome labour of 
toasts, healths, or sentiments ; and tlien retired 
into his study. 




I was no sooner entered, than I observed a 
coat of arras, in a gilt frame, with the name of 
John Bartrani. The novelty of such a decora- 
tion, in such a place, struck me ; I could not 
avoid asking, ' Does the Society of Friends take 
any pride in those armorial bearings, which 
sometimes serve as marks of distinction between 
families, and much oftener as food for pride and 
ostentation ? ' 

'Thou must know,' said he, 'that my father 
was a Frenchman ;* he brought this piece of 
painting over with him. I keep it as a piece 
of family furniture, and as a memorial of his 
removal hither.* 

From his study we went into the garden, which 
contained a great variety of curious plants and 
shrubs ; some grew in a green-house, over the 
door of which were written these lines : — 

' Slave to no sect, who takes no private road, 
But looks through nature up to nature's God.' 

He informed me that he had often followed 
General Bouquet to Pittsburg, with the view of 
herborizing, that he had made useful collections 
in Virginia, and that he had been employed by 
the King of England to visit the two Floridas. 

Our walks and botanical observations en- 
grossed so much of our time, that the sun was 

• This is evidently a misapprehension on the part of the 
' Russian gentleman.' John IJartram, no doubt, had refer- 
ence to his remote ancestor, a Norman ' Frenchman,' who 
' came with William the Conqueror,' and ' settled in the 
north of England.' 



almost doTvn ere I thouglit of returning to Phila- 
delphia; I regretted tliat the day had been so 
short, as I had not spent so rational a one for 
a long time before. I wanted to stay, yet was 
doubtful whether it would not appear improper, 
being an utter stranger. Knowing, however, 
that I was visiting the least ceremonious people 
in the world, I bluntly informed him of the 
pleasure I had enjoyed, and with the desire I 
had of staying a few days with him. ' Thou art 
as welcome as if I was thy father ; thou art no 
stranger, thy desire of knowledge, thy being a 
foreigner, besides, entitles thee to consider my 
house as thine own as long as thou pleascst ; use 
thy time with the most perfect freedom, 1, too, 
shall do so myself.' 

I thankfully accepted the kind invitation. 
We went to view his favourite bank ; he showed 
me the principles and method on which it was 
erected, and we walked over tlie grounds which 
had been alrcaily drained. The whole store of 
nature's kind luxuriance seemed to have been 
exhausted on these beautiful meadows ; he made 
me count the amazing number of cattle and 
horses now feeding on solid bottoms, wliich, but 
a few years before, had been covered with water. 
Thence we rambled through his fields, where 
the rightangular fences, the heaps of pitched 
stones, the flourishing clover, announced the 
best husbandry, as well as the most assiduous 
attention. His cows were then returning home, 
having udders ready to burst; seeking, with 
seeming toil, to be delivered from the great ex- 



uberance they contained. He next showed me 
his orchard, formerly planted on a barren, sandy 
soil, but long since converted into one of the 
richest spots in that vicinage. 

' This,' said he, ' is altogether the fruit of my 
own contrivance. I purchased, some years ago, 
the privilege of a small spring, about a mile and 
a half from hence, which, at a considerable ex- 
pense, I have brought to this reservoir; therein 
I throw old lime, ashes, horse-dung, &c., and 
twice a week I let it run, thus impi'egnated. 
I regularly spread on this ground, in the fall, 
old hay, straw, and whatever damaged fodder I 
have about my barn. By these simple means 
I mow, one year with another, fifty-three hun- 
dreds of excellent hay per acre, from a soil which 
scarcely produced five fingers (i.e., Cinque/oil, or 
Potentilla Canadensis, Lin.) some years before.' 

' This is, Sir, a miracle in husbandry ; hSppy 
the country wliich is cultivated by a society of 
men wliose application and taste lead them to 
prosecute and accomplish useful works.' 

' I am not the only pei'son who does these 
things ;' he said, ' wherever water can be had, it 
is always turned to that important use ; whei'ever 
a farmer can water his meadows, the greatest 
crops of the best hay, and excellent after-grass, 
are the sure rewards of his labours. AVith the 
banks of my meadow-ditches I have greatly-- en- 
riched my upland fields ; tliose which I intend 
to rest for a few years, I constantly sow with 
red clover, which is the greatest meliorator of our 
lands. For three years after they yield abun- 



dant pasture; when I want to break up my 
clover fields, I give them a good coat of mud, 
which has been exposed to the severities of 
three or four of our winters. This is the reason 
that I commonly reap from twenty-eight to 
thirty-six bushels of wheat an acre ; my flax, 
oats, and Indian corn I raise in the same pro- 
portion. Wouldst thou inform me whether the 
inhabitants of thy country follow the same 
methods of husbandry ?' 

' No, Sir ; in the neighbourhood of our towns 
there are indeed some intelligent farmers, who 
prosecute their rural schemes with attention, 
but we should be too numerous, too happy, too 
powerful a people, if it were possible for the 
whole Russian empire to be cultivated like the 
province of Pennsylvania. Our lands are so 
unequally divided, and so few of our farmers are 
possessors of the soil they till, that tliey cannot 
execute plans of husbandry with the same vigour 
as you do, who hold yours, as it were, from the 
Master of nature, imincumbered and free. O 
America ! ' exclaimed I, ' thou knowest not, as 
yet, the whole extent of thy liappiness ; the 
foundation of thy civil polity must lead thee, in 
a few years, to a degree of population and power 
which Europe little thinks of I ' 

'Long before this happens,' answered the good 
man, ' we shall rest beneath the turf; it is vain 
for mortals to be presumptuous in their conjec- 
tures ; our country is, no doubt, the cradle of 
an extensive future population, the old world is 
growing weary of its inhabitants, they must 



come here to flee from the tyranny of the great. 
But dost not thou imagine that the great will, 
in the course of years, come over hei'e also ? for 
it is the misfortune of all societies everywhere 
to hear of great men, great rulers, and of great 

' My dear Sir,' I replied, 'tyranny never can 
take a strong hold in this country, the land is 
too wisely distributed ; it is poverty in Europe 
that makes slaves.' 

' Friend Iwan, as I make no doubt thou under- 
standest the Latin tongue, read this kind epistle 
which the good Queen of Sweden, Ulrica, sent 
me a few years ago. Good woman ! that she 
should think, in her palace at Stockholm, of 
poor John Bartram, on the banks of the Schuyl- 
kill, appears to me very strange.' 

' Not in the least, dear Sir, you are the first 
man whose name as a botanist has done honour 
to America; it is very natural, at the same 
time, to imagine that so extensive a continent 
must contain many curious plants and trees ; is 
it then surprising to see a princess, fond of useful 
knowledge, descend sometimes from the throne 
to walk in the gardens of Linnteus ?' 

' 'Tis to the directions of that learned man,' 
said Mr. Bartram, ' that I am indebted for tlie 
method which has led me to the knowledge I 
now possess ; the science of botany is so diffu- 
sive, that a proper thread is absolutely wanted 
to conduct the beginner.' 

' Pray, Mr. Bartram, when did you imbibe 
the first wish to cultivate the science of bot- 



any? Were you regularly bred to it iu Phila- 

' I have never received any other education 
than barely reading and writing ; this small 
farm was all the patrimony my father left me, 
certain debts, and the want of meadows, kept 
me rather low in the beginning of my life ; my 
wife brought me nothing in money, all lier riches 
consisted in her good temper and great know- 
ledge of housewifery. I scarcely know how to 
trace my steps in the botanical career, they 
appear to me, now, like to a dream; but thou 
mayest rely on wliat I shall relate, though I 
know that some of our friends have laughed 
at it.' 

' I am not one of those people, Mr. Bartrara, 
who aim at finding out the ridiculous in what is 
sincerely and honestly averred.' 

' Well, then, I'll tell thee. One day I was 
very busy in holding my plough (for thou seest 
I am but a ploughman), and, being weary, I ran 
under tlic shade of a tree to repose myself. I 
cast my eyes on a dais^/ ; I plucked it mecliani- 
cally, and viewed it with more curiosity than 
common country farmers are wont to do, and 
observed therein very many distinct parts, some 
perpendicular, some horizontal. What a shame, 
said my mind, or something that inspired my mind, 
that thou shouldst have employed so many years in 
tilling the earth, and destroying so many flowers 
and plants, without being acquainted with their 
structures and their uses! This seeming inspira- 
tion suddenly awakened my curiosity, for these 



were not thoughts to which I had been accus- 
tomed. I returned to my team, but this new 
desire did not quit my mind ; I mentioned it to 
my wife, who greatly discouraged me from pro- 
secuting my new scheme, as she called it ; I was 
not opulent enough, she said, to dedicate much 
of my time to studies and labours which might 
rob me of that portion of it which is the only 
wealth of the American farmer. However, her 
prudent caution did not discourage me; I thought 
about it continually — at supper, in bed, and wher- 
ever I went. At last I could not resist the im- 
pulse, for, on the fourth day of the following 
week, I hired a man to plough for me, and went 
to Philadelphia. Though I knew not what book 
to call for, I ingenuously told the bookseller my 
errand, who provided me with such as he thought 
best, and a Latin grammar beside. Next, I ap- 
plied to a neighbouring schoolmaster, who, in 
three months, taught me Latin enough to under- 
stand Linnpeus, which I purchased afterward. 
Then I began to botanize all over ray farm. In 
a little time, I became acquainted with every 
vegetable that grew in my neighbourhood ; and 
next ventured into Maryland, living among the 
Friends. In proportion as I thought myself 
more learned, I proceeded farther, and, by a 
steady application of several years, I have ac- 
quired a pretty general knowledge of every 
plant and tree to be found on our continent. 
In process of time I was applied to from the old 
countries, whither I every year send many col- 
lections. Being now made easy in my circum- 



stances, I have ceased to labour, and am never 
so happy as when I see and converse with my 
friends. If, among the many plants or shrubs I 
am acquainted with, there are any thou wishest 
to send to tliy native coutry, I will cheerfully 
procure them ; and give thee, moreover, what- 
ever directions thou mayest want.' 
^ Thus I passed several days, in ease, improve- 
ment, and pleasure. I observed, in all the 
operations of his farm, as well as in the mutual 
correspondence between the master and the in- 
ferior members of his family, the greatest ease 
and decorum : not a word like command seemed 
to exceed the tone of a simple wish. The very 
negroes themselves appeared to partake of such 
a decency of behaviour, and modesty of coun- 
tenance, as I had never before observed. 

'By what means,' said I, 'Mr Bartram, do 
you rule your slaves so well, that they seem to 
do their work with all the cheerfulness of white 
men ?' 

' Though our erroneous prejudices and opinions 
once induced us to look upon them as fit only for 
slavery, though ancient custom had very unfor- 
tunately taught us to keep them in bondage, 
yet, of late, in consequence of the remonstrances 
of several Fi-iends, and of the good books they 
have published on that subject, our Society 
treats them very differently. With us they are 
now free. I give those whom thou saw at my 
table eighteen pounds a year, with victuals and 
clothes, and all other privileges which white 
men enjoy. Our Society treats them, now, as 

IV. R 



the companions of our labours ; and by this 
management, as well as by means of the edu- 
cation we have given them, they are, in general, 
become a new set of beings. Those whom I 
admit to my table I have found to be good, 
trusty, moral men : when they do not what we 
think they should do, we dismiss them, which 
is all the punishment we inflict. Other so- 
cieties of Christians keep them still as slaves, 
without teaching them any kind of religious 
principles. What motive, beside fear, can they 
have to behave well? In the first settlement 
of this province, we employed them as slaves, 
I acknowledge ; but when we found that good 
example, gentle admonition, and religious prin- 
ciples, could lead them to subordination and 
sobriety, we relinquished a method so contrary 
to the profession of Christianity. We gave 
them freedom : and yet few have quitted their 
iincient masters. I taught mine to read and to 
write: they love God, and fear his judgments. 
The oldest person among tliera transacts my 
business in Philadelphia, with a punctuality 
from which he has never deviated. Tiiey con- 
stantly attend our meetings ; tlioy participate — • 
in health and sickness, in infancy and old age — 
in the advantages our Society affords. Such 
are the means we have made use of, to relieve 
them from that bondage and ignorance in which 
they were kept before. Perliaps thou hast been 
surprised to see them at my table ; but, by ele- 
vating them to the rank of freemen, they ne- 
cessarily acquire that emulation, without which 



\fe ourselves should fall into debasement and 
profligate ways.' 

' Mr. Bartram, this is the most philosophical 
treatment of negroes I have heard of. Happy 
would it be for America, would other denomi- 
nations of Christians imbibe the same principles, 
and follow the same admirable rules. A great 
number of men would be relieved from those 
cruel shackles under which they now groan : and 
under this impression, I cannot endure to spend 
more time in the southern provinces. The 
method with which they are treated there — the 
meanness of their food, the severity of their 
tasks — are spectacles I have not patience to 

' I am glad to see that thou hast so much 
compassion. Are there any slaves in thy 

' Yes, unfortunately ; but they arc more pro- 
perly civil than domestic slaves: they are at- 
tached to tlie soil on which they live ; it is the 
remains of ancient barbarous customs, estab- 
lished in the days of the greatest ignorance and 
savageness of manners I and preserved, notwith- 
standing the repeated tears of humanity — the 
loud calls of policy — and the commands of reli- 
gion. The pride of great men, with the avarice 
of landholders, makes them look on this class 
as necessary tools of husbandry, as if freemen 
could not cultivate the ground!' 

'And is it really so, friend I wan? To be 
poor, to be wretched, to be a slave, is hard in- 
deed: existence is not worth enjoying on those 

R 2 



terms. I am afraid thy country can never 
flourish under such impolitic government.' 

' I am very much of your opinion, Mr. Bar- 
tram, though I am in hopes that the present 
reign, ilhistrious by so many acts of the sound- 
est policy, will not expire without this salutary, 
this necessary emancipation, which would fill 
the Russian Empire with tears of gratitude.' 

' How long hast thou been in this country ?' 
' Four years, Sir.' 

'Why, thou speaks English almost like a na- 
tive. What a toil a traveller must undergo to 
learn various languages — to divest himself of 
his native prejudices — and to accommodate him- 
self to the customs of all those among whom he 
chooses to reside.' 

Tlius I spent my time with this enlightened 
botanist, tliis worthy citizen, who united all the 
simplicity of rustic manners to the most useful 
learning. Various and extensive were the con- 
versations tliat filled the measure of my visit. 
I accompanied him to his fields, to his barn, to 
his bank, to his garden, to his study, and at 
last to the meeting of the Society, on the Sun- 
day following. I was at the town of Chester, 
whither the whole family went in two waggons ; 
Mr. Bartram and I on horseback. When I en- 
tered the house where the Friends were asem- 
bled, who might be about two hundred men and 
women, the involuntary impulse of ancient cus- 
tom made me pull off my hat ; but soon recover- 
ing myself, I sat with it on at the end of a 
bench. The meeting-house was a square build- 



iiig", devoid of any ornament whatever. The 
whiteness of the walls, the conveuiency of seats, 
and a large stove, which, in cold weather, keeps 
the whole house warm, were the only essential 
things which I observed. Neither pulpit nor 
desk, fount nor altar, tabernacle nor organ, were 
there to be seen : it is merely a spacious room, 
in which these good people meet every Sunday. 
A profound silence ensued, which lasted about 
half an hour ; every one had his head reclined, 
and seemed absorbed in profound meditation, 
when a female Friend arose, and declared, with 
a most engaging modesty, that the Spirit moved 
her to entertain them on the subject she had 
chosen. She treated it with great propriety, 
as a moral, useful discourse, and delivered it 
without theological parade, or the ostentation 
of leai-ning. Either she must have been a great 
adept in public speaking, or had studiously pre- 
pared herself ; a circumstance that cannot well 
be supposed, as it is a point, in their profession, 
to utter nothing but wiiat arises from sponta- 
neous impulse ; or else the Great Spirit of the 
world — the patronage and influence of which 
they all came to invoke — must have inspired 
her with the soundest morality. Her discourse 
lasted tliree quarters of an hour. I did not ob- 
serve one single face turued toward her : never 
befoi'e had I seen a congregation listening with 
so much attention to a public oration. I ob- 
served neither contortions of body, nor any kind 
of affectation in her face, style, or manner of 
utterance ; everything was natural, and there- 
is ;? 



fore pleasing, aud, shall I tell you more ? she 
was very handsome, although upwards of forty. 
As soon as she had finished, every one seemed 
to return to their former meditation for about a 
quarter of an hour, when they rose up by com- 
mon consent, and, after some general conver- 
sation, departed. 

How simple their precepts, how unadorned 
their religious system, how few the ceremonies 
through which they pass dui'ing the course of 
their lives ! At their deaths they are interred 
by the fraternity, without pomp, without pray- 
ers, thinking it then too late to alter the course 
of God's eternal decrees ; and, as you well know, 
without either monument or tomb-stone. Thus, 
after having lived under the mildest govern- 
ment, after liaviug been guided by the mildest 
doctrine, they die just as peaceably as those 
who, being educated in more pompous religions, 
pass through a variety of sacraments, subscribe 
to complicated creeds, aud enjoy the benefits of 
a church establishment. These good people 
flatter themselves with following the doctrines 
of Jesus Christ, in that simplicity with which 
they were delivered. A happier system could 
not have been devised for the use of mankind. 
It appears to be entirely free from those orna- 
ments and political additions which each coun- 
try and each government has fashioned after its 
own manners. 

At the door of this meeting-house I had been 
invited to spend some days at the houses of 
some respectable farmers in the neighbourhood. 



The reception I met with everywhere insensibly 
led me to spend two months among these good 
people ; and I must say they were the golden 
days of my riper years. I never shall forget 
the gratitude I owe them for the innumerable 
kindnesses they heaped on me: it was to the 
letter you gave me that I am indebted for the 
extensive acquaintance I now have throughout 
Pennsylvania. I must defer thanking you as 
I ought, until I see you again. Before that 
time comes, I may perhaps entertain you with 
more curious anecdotes than this letter alfords. 
Farewell. Iwan Alexiowitz. 


John Bartram, who exchanged specimens of 
plants with Sir Hans Sloane, and often for- 
warded him natural and artificial curiosities, 
which he met with on his journeys of research, 
received from Sir Hans in return many valu- 
able presents of books, &c. He also presented 
Bartram with a silver cup, in the year 1742, a 
representation of which is given on tlie opposite 
page. This cup is now the property of Isaac 
Bartram, a grandson of the botanist. 

The following, acknowledging the present of 
Sir Hans Sloane, may also serve as a specimen 
of Bartram's letters : — 

Friend Sir Hans Sloane, 

I have received thy kind present of a 
silver cup, and am well pleased that thy name 


is engraved upon it at large, so that when my 
friends drink out of it, they may see who was 
my benefactor. 

I received thy kind letter, and have endea- 
voured to answer thy desires. I have sent thee 
two quires of specimens, gathered in their full 
bloom — as many as I could, but several tliat I 
found amongst the Indians could not be found 
with their proper cliaracteristics. So, pray 
accept them as I found them, rather than none 
of that species. I have collected several kinds 
of seeds belonging to tlie specimens, numbered 
as the specimens are to which they belong. I 
have also wrapped up, in separate papers, sev- 
eral of our North American mosses, and packed 
them up with the seeds. If tliou wants more 
another year of mosses, seeds, or specimens, 
pray let me know particularly by a letter, and 
I liope to endeavour to procure them for thee. 

I have put in the box of specimens one of 
our yellow wasp's nests, that was built in my 
ditch bank. We have another sort like tliese, 
that build a hanging nest on the twigs of bushes 
or tree.s, like our hornets. 

I have wrapped up in paper, some of our 
humble-bee brewing cells, or combs, and liave 
procured a largo hornet's nest to send. 

Dear Sir Hans, if these few curiosities are 
acceptable to thee, it will not only encourage 
me to strive to oblige thee more, but will ex- 
ceedingly please thy sincere and obliged friend, 

John Bartuam. 



IN 1772. 

In 1772, a gold medal was presented to John 
Bartram, bj a society at Edinburgh, established 
in 1764, for the purpose of importing seeds of 
useful trees and shrubs. 

This medal was forwarded to him through his 
intimate friend, Dr. Franklin, then residing in 
England, accompanied with the following letter 
from Franklin : — 

Lmdon, Feb. 10, 1773. 

My dear good old Friend, 

I am glad to learn that the turnip 
seed and the rhubarb grow with you, and that 
the turnip is approved. It may be depended 
on that the rhubarb is the genuine sort. But, 
to have tlie root in perfection, it ought not to be 
taken out of the ground in less than seven years. 

Herewith I send you a few .seeds of what is 
called the cabbage-turnip. They say it will 
stand the frost of the severest winter, and so 
make a fine early feed for cattle in the spring, 
when their other fodder may be scarce. I send 
also some seed of the Scotch cabbage, and some 
peas that are much applauded here, but I forget 
for what purpose, and shall inquire, and let you 
know in my next. 

I think there has been no good opportunity 
of sending your medal since I received it till 
now. It goes in a box to my son Bache, with 
the seeds. I wish you joy of it. 


Notwithstanding the failure of your ejes, you 
write as distinctly as ever. 

With good esteem and respect, I am, my 
dear friend, yours most aifectionately, 

Benjamin Franklin. 


A little, with the hlessing of God upon it, is 
better than a great deal with the incumbrance 
of his curse. His blessing can multiply a mite 
into a talent, but his curse will shrink a talent 
into a mite. By him the arms of the wicked 
are broken, and by him the righteous are up- 
holdeu; so that the great question is, whether 
he be with or against us, and the great misfor- 
tune is that this question is seldom asked. The 
favour of God is, to them that obtain it, a better 
and enduring substance, which, like the widow's 
barrel of oil, wasted not in the evil days of 
famine, nor will fail. — (Bisnoi> Houne.) 


The following verses commemorate a somewhat 
remarkable event, in the history of Puritan in- 
tolerance, as exercised towards the early Fi'iends, 
and those who favoured their testimony. Two' 
young persons,* son and daughter of Lawrence 
Southwick, of Salem, who had been himself im- 

Daniel and Provided Soutliwiek. 



prisoned, and deprived of all his property, for 
having entertained two Quakers at his house, 
were fined £10 each for non-attendance at the 
church, which they were unable to pay. The 
case being represented to the genei"al court at 
Boston, that body issued an order, which may 
still be seen on the court records, bearing the 
signature of Edward Rawson, secretary, by wliich 
the treasurer of the county was 'fully empowered 
to sell the said persons to any of the English 
nation at Virginia or Barbadoes, to answer the 
said fines.' An attempt was made to carry this 
barbarous order into execution, but no ship- 
master was found willing to convey them to the 
West Indies. — (Sewell's History, pp. 291, 292, 
376, 377.) 

To the God of all sure mercies let my Ijlessings rise to day 1 
From the scoffer and the cruel he hath plucked the spoil 
away, — 

Tea, He who cooled the furnace around the faitliful tliree, 
And tamed the Chaldean lions, hath set his handmaid free ! 

Last night I saw the sunset melt through my prison bars ; 
Last night across my damp earth-floor fell the pale gleam 
of stars ; 

In the coldness and the darkness, all through the long 
night time, 

My grated casement whitened with Autumn's early rime. 

Alone, in that dark sorrow, hour after hour crept by, 
.Star after star looked palely in and sank adown the sky ; 
No sound amid night's stUlness, save that which seemed 
to be 

The dull and heavy beiiting of the pulses of the sea. 

i\ll night I sat unsleeping, for I knew that on the morrow, 
H'lie ruler and the cruel priest would mock me in my sorrow ; 



Dragged to their place of market, and bargained for and 

Like a lamb before the shambles, like a heifer from the fold ! 

O, the weakness of the flesh was there — the shrinking and 
the shame, 

And the low voice of the Tempter like whispers to me came ; 
' Why sitt'st thou thus forlornly?' the wicked murmur said, 
' Damp walls thy bower of beauty, cold earth thy maiden 
bed! . 

' Where be the smiling faces, and voices soft and sweet, 
Seen in thy father's dwelling, heard in the pleasant street ? 
Where be the youthful glances, which all the Sabbath 

Turned tenderly and timidly unto thy father's pew? 

' Why sitt'st thou here, Provided? — Bethink thee with what 

Thy happy schoolmates gather round the warm bright 
hearth ; 

How the crimson shadows tremble on foreheads white and 

On brows of merry girlhood, half hid in golden hair. 

' Not for thee the hearth-fire brightens; not for thee kind 

words are spoken ; 
Not for thee the nuts of Wenham woods by laughing boys 

are broken ; 

No first-fruits of the orchard within thy lap are laid ; 

For thee no flowers of Autumn the youthful hunters braid. 

' Oh I weak deluded maiden ! — by crazy fancies led, 
With wild and raving railers an evil path to tread ; 
To leave a wholesome worship, and teaching pure and sound. 
And mate with maniac women, loose-haired and sackcloth- 
bound ; 

' Mad scofi'ers of the priesthood, who mock at things Divine, 
Who rail against the pulpit, and holy bread and wine. 
Sore from their eart-tail scourgings, and from the pillory 

Rejoicing in their wretchedness, and glorying in their shame. 



' And what a fate awaits thee? — a sadly toiling slave, 
Dragging the slowly lengthening chain of bondage to the 
grave ' 

Think of thy woman's nature, subdued in hopeless thrall, 
The easy prey of any, the scoff and scorn of all !' 

0 ! ever as the Tempter spoke, and feeble nature fears 
Wrung, drop by drop, the scalding flow of unavailing tears, 

1 wrestled down the evil thoughts, and strove in silent 


To feel, b Helper of the weak, that thou indeed wert there ' 

T thought of Paul and Silas within Philippi's cell, 
And how from Peter's slee])ing limbs the prison shackles fell. 
Till I seemed to hear the trailing of an angel's robe of white. 
And to feel a blessed presence invisible to sight. 

Bless the Lord for all his mercies ! — for the peace and love 
I felt. 

Like dew of Hermon's holy hill, upon my spirit melt, 
When ' Get behind me, Satan !' was the language of my 

And I felt the evil tempter with all his doubts depart. 

Slow broke the gray, cold morning, again the sunshine fell, 
Fleck'd with the shade of bar and grate, within my lonely 

The hoar-frost melted on the wall, and upward, from the 

Came careless laugh and idle word, and tread of passing feet. 

At length the heavy bolts fell back, my door was open cast. 
And slowly, at the sheriff's side, up the long street I passed. 
I heard the murmur round me, and felt, but dared not see, 
How from every door and window the people gazed on me. 

And doubt and fear fell on me, shame burned upon my 

Swam earth and sky around me, my trembling limbs grew 
weak ; 

' O Lord, support thy handmaid, and from her soul cast out 
The fear of man which brings a snare, the weakness, and 
the doubt.' 

IV. s 


Then the dreai-y shadows scattered like a cloud in morning 

And a low, deep voice within me seemed whispering words 
like these : — 

' Though thy earth be as the iron, and thy heaven a brazen 

Trust still his loving-kindness whose power is over all.' 

paused at length, where at my feet the sun-lit waters 

On glaring reach of shining beach, and shingly wall of rock ; 
The merchant-ships lay idly there, in hard clear lines on 

Tracing with rope and slender spar their net-work on the 

And there were ancient citizens, cloak-wrapped, and grave, 
and cold, 

And grim and stout sea-captains, with faces bronzed and old, 
And, on his horse, with Rawson, his cruel clerk, at hand. 
Sat dark and haughty Endicott, the ruler of the land. 

And, poisoning with his evil words the ruler's ready ear. 
The priest leaned o'er his saddle, with laugh, and scoff, and 
jeer ; 

It stirred my soul, and from ray lips the seal of silence 

As if through woman's weakness a warning spirit spoke. 

T cried, ' The Lord rebuke thee, thou smiter of the meek. 
Thou robber of the righteous, thou trampler of the weak ; 
Go light the dark, cold hearth -stones, go turn the prison 

Of the poor Irearts thou hast hunted, thou wolf amid the 
flock !' 

Dark lowered the brows of Endicott : and, with a deeper red. 
O'er Rawson's wine -empurpled cheek the flush of anger 

' Good people,' quoth the white-lipped priest, ' heed not her 
words so wild, 

Iler master sjieaks within her — the Devil owns his child.' 



But gray ht-ads shook, and young brows knit, the while the 
sheriff read 

That law the wicked rulers against the poor have made. 
Who to their house of Rimmon and idol ))riesthood bring 
No bended knee of worship, nor gainful offering. 

Then to the stout sea-captains the sheriff turning said, 
'^Vhich of ye, worthy gentlemen, will take this Quaker 
maid ? 

In the isle of far Barbadoes, or on Virginia's shore. 

Ye may hold her at higher price than Indian girl or Moor.' 

Grim and silent stood the captains, and when again he cried, 
' Speak out, my worthy gentlemen I' nor voice nor sign 
replied ; 

But I felt a hard hand press my own, and kind words met 
my ear, 

* God bless thee and preserve thee, my gentle girl and dear !' 

A weight seemed lifted from my heart — a pitying friend 
was nigh, 

I felt it in his hard, rough hand, and saw it in his eye ; 
And when again the sheriff spoke, that voice, so kind to me. 
Growled back its stormy answer, like the roaring of the sea : 

' Pile my ships with bars of silver, pack with coins of 
Spanish gold. 

From keel-piece up to deck-plank, the roomage of her hold ; 

! — I would sooner in your bay 
Sink ship, and crew, and cargo, than bear this child away !' 

' Well answered, worthy captain, shame on their cruel laws,* 
Ran through the crowd in murmui-s loud, the people's just 
applause ; 

' Like the herdsmen of Tekoa, in Israel of old. 

Shall we see the poor and righteous again for silver sold ?' 

I looked on haughty Endicott, with weapon half-way drawn, 
Swept round the throng his lion-glare of bitter Late and 
scorn ; 

Fiercely he drew his bridle-rein, and turned in silence back, 
And sneering priest, and baffled clerk, rode murmuring in 
his track. 




Hard after tliern the slieriff looked, in bitterness of soul, 
Tlirice smote his staff upon the ground, and crushed his 

parchment roll ; 
' Good friends,' he said, ' since both have fled, the ruler and 

the priest, 

Judge ye if from their farther work I be not well released.' 

Lend was the cheer which full and clear swept round the 
silent bay. 

As, with kind words and kinder looks, he bade me go uiy 

For He who turns the courses of the streamlet of the glen, 
And the river of gi-eat waters, had turned the hearts of 

O ' at that hour the very earth seemed changed beneath 
my eye, 

A holier wonder round me rose the blue walls of the sky, 
A lovelier light on rock and hill, and stream and woodland 

And softer lapsed on sunnier sands the waters of the bay. 

Thanksgiving to the Lord of life, to him all praises be, 
AVho from the hands of evil men hath set his handmaid free I 
All praise to Him before whose power the miglity are afraid, 
"Who takes the crafty in the snare which for the poor is laid. 

Sing, O my soul, rejoicingly; on evening's twilight calm, 
Uplift the loud thanksgiv ing, pour forth the grateful psalm ; 
Let all dear saints with me rejoice, as did the saints of old. 
When of the Lord's good angel the rescued Peter told. 

And weep and howl, ye evil priests and mighty men of 

The Lord shall smite their pride, and break the jaw-teeth of 
the strong, 

AVoe to the wicked rulers in his avenging hour, 

Woe to the wolves who seek the flock to raven and devour ! 

But let the humble ones arise, the poor in heart be glad. 
And let the mourning ones again with robes of praise be 
clad ; 


For lie who cooled the furnace, and smootlied the stormy 

And tanied the Chaldean lions, is mighty still to save ! 



It was when the persecution of the people called 
Quakers had, for a short season, somewhat 
abated its rigour, and they ventured to attend 
their religious assemblies without fear of injury 
to tlieir families, in the meantime, tliat Walter 
Pisley and his wife, a stayed and respectable 
couple belonging to that despised community, 
rode eleven miles, to their county town of Staf- 
ford, to be present at a meeting, appointed by 
that apostle-like youug man Edward Burrough, 
leaving their little daughter Martha under the 
care of an aged woman, who was, at that time, 
their sole female domestic. 

Martha was a grave child, though but seven 
years of age; her young mind had taken its 
tone from both of her parents. She had been 
born in a season of persecution, had been cradled, 
as it were, in anxiety and sorrow ; and, as she 
grew old enough to comprehend the circum- 
stances that surrounded her, she saw her parents 
constantly filled with apprehension for tlie safety 
of their lives and property. She had heard them 
talk over tlieir grievances, spoiling of goods, the 
maimings, the whippings, and the horrible suf- 
ferings of their persecuted brethren, persecuted 
even to the deatii ; had heard of little cliildrcn 

3 3 



enduring, with the steadfastness of early martyrs, 
imprisoumeuts and pains which would overcome 
even the strong man; till, unlike the ordinary 
child of her years, her countenance habitually 
wore a look of gravity, and her heart bled at 
the least thought of suffering or sorrow. 

Martha's home was in a country place, sur- 
rounded by fields — a pleasant, quiet valley, the 
patrimonial heritage of lier father. It was har- 
vest time, and, in the course of the morniug, 
the old servant went out with the reapers' din- 
ners, leaving little Martha to amuse herself in 
her tisual quiet way. She had not been long 
alone, before a beggar-woman pi-esented herself 
with a young child in her arms. Martha knew 
that it was her mother's custom to relieve dis- 
tress in whatever shape it presented itself, and 
the story the woman told, whether false or true, 
touched her to the soul; she gave her, therefore, 
the dinner which had been set aside for herself, 
and compassionated her in words of tlie truest 
sympathy, and when the cliild in the woman's 
arms wept, her heart yearned towards it. Strange 
it may be to all, but so it was, for our story is 
true, when the beggar-woman saw the affection 
with which little Mai'tha regarded the child, she 
proposed to sell it to her, and Martha, innocent 
of all guile, readily accepted the proposal. All 
her little hoard of money was produced, the bar- 
gain was struck, and the two parted perfectly 
satisfied with the transaction. The child was 
beautiful in its form and features, and Martha 
sat down with it upon her knee, and lavished 



upon It all the endearing tenderness which her 
most aifectionate nature suggested. 

In a short time the child fell asleep ; and, as 
she sat gazing upon it, a half-defined fear stole 
into her mind that perhaps she had done wrong 
in taking upon her this charge unknown to her 
parents, that perhaps they would be displeased. 
She rose up In haste, and looked from door and 
window for the beffffar-womau, but neither across 
the fields, nor down the valley, nor upon the 
distant highways, was she to be seen ; and then 
she was afraid, and thought to hide the child. 
She made it a comfortable warm bed with a 
blanket, in a large press, and kissing its sleeping 
eyes, and wishing that she had no fear, she left 
it to its repose, and began with great anxiety 
to look out for the return of her parents. To 
the old domestic she said not one word of what 
she had done. 

After two hours, all which time the child had 
slept soundly, Walter Pixley and his wife re- 
turned. The good mother, who was accustomed 
to help in all the domestic business, employed 
herself in preparing the early afternoon meal, 
and Martha sat down with her parents to par- 
take of it. While Walter Pixley and his wife 
were in the midst of their review of the events 
of the morning — of Edward Burrough's extra- 
ordinary sermon, and of the concourse to whom 
it was addressed, they were startled by what 
seemed to them the cry of a child. Martha's 
heart beat quick, and her sweet face grew sud- 
denly pale, but her parents were not observing 



her. The good mau stopped in the middle of a 
sentence, and both he and his wife turned their 
heads towards the part of the liouse whence the 
sound proceeded, listened for a second or two, 
and then, all being again still, without remark- 
ing upon what they supposed was fancy, they 
went on again with their conversation. Again 
a cry louder and more determined was heard, 
and again they paused. ' Surely,' said the wife, 
' that is the voice of a young child.' 

The critical moment was now come, conceal- 
ment was no longer possible, and Martha's af- 
fection mastered her fear ; as the infant con- 
tinued to cry, she darted from the table and 
exclaimed, ' Yes, yes, it is my child ! ' and the 
next moment was heard audibly soothing her 
little charge, in the chamber above, with all the 
tenderness of the fondest mother. 

The mother was soon at the daughter's side, 
full of the most inconceivable astonishment, and 
demanded from her whence the child had come, 
or how it had been consigned to her charge. 
Martha related the story with perfect honesty. 
The old domestic was then summoned, but she 
knew nothing of the affair. They were not long 
deliberations that followed. The family could 
not conscientiously burden themselves with 
another dependent, and one, especially, who 
liad no natural claim upon them, in these peril- 
ous and anxious times, when they could not 
even insure security for themselves ; and besides 
this, how did they know but this very circum- 
stance miglit be made, in some way or other, 


a cause of offence or of persecution — for the 
world looked witli jealous and suspicious eyes 
upon the poor Quakers. Walter Pixley, there- 
fore, soon determined what he had to do in the 
affair— to make the circumstances known at the 
next village ; to inquire after the woman, who, 
no doubt, had been seen either before or after 
parting with the child ; and also to state the 
whole affair to the nearest justice of the peace. 

Within an hour, therefore, after the discovery 
of the child, the good man might be seen making 
known his strange news at the different places 
of resort in the village, and inquiring from all 
if such a person as the little girl had described 
the woman to be, had been seen by any ; but, 
to his chagrin and amazement, no one could 
give him information, such a person had evi- 
dently not been there. He next hastened to 
the justice's. It was now evening, and Walter 
Pixley was informed that the justice very rarely 
transacted any business after dinner, and that 
especially, ' he would not with a Quaker.' Wal- 
ter, however, was not easily to be put by ; he 
felt his business was important, and, by help of 
a gratuity to the servant, he gained admittance. 

The justice was engaged over his wine, and 
he received Walter Pixley very gruffly, and, in 
the end, threatened him with a committal to 
jail for his pains. The poor Quaker had been 
in jail the whole of the preceding winter, and 
he remembered too woefully the horror of that 
dungeon, to bring upon himself willingly a 
second incarceration. It was of no use seeking 



for help at the hands of the Justice ; therefore 
he urged his business no further, and i-eturned 
quietly to his own house. 

Against the will, therefore, of the elder Pix- 
leys, the child was established with them ; and 
it was not long before the father and mother as 
cordially adopted it as their little daughter had 
done from the first beholding it. ' For who 
knows,' argued the good Walter Pixley, ' but 
the child may be designed for some great work, 
and therefore removed thus singularly from the 
ways of evil for our teaching and bringing up ? 
Let us not gainsay or counteract the ways of 
Providence.' This reasoning abundantly satis- 
fied the pious minds of the good Friends, and 
the little stranger was regularly installed a 
member of the family by the kindred name of 

At the time little Mary was first received 
under this hospitable roof, she might be about 
six months old, a child of uncommon beauty ; 
nor, as the months advanced into years, was 
the promise of her infancy disappointed. She 
was, in disposition and tone of mind, the very 
reverse of her grave and gentle elder sister, as 
Martha was now considered ; she was bold and 
full of mirth ; full of such unbroken buoyancy 
of heart, as made the sober mother Pixley half 
suspect that she must have come of some race 
of wild people. Certain it was, the subdued 
and grave spirit of the Pixleys never influenced 
her ; but as Martha grew up into womanhood, 
and the quietness and sobriety of her younger 



years matured into fixed principle, she em- 
braced, with a firm mind, the peculiar tenets 
in which she had been brought up, and would 
Iiave stood to the death for the maintenance of 
them. Marj also advanced past the jears of 
girlhood, but still remained the gay, glad, bold- 
spirited being that she had ever been. She re- 
vered all the members of the persecuted body 
to whom her friends belonged, and would have 
suffered fearlessly for their sakes; still their 
principles and practices she never would adopt. 
Her beautiful person was adorned, as far as she 
had opportunity, in the prevailing fashion of the 
times ; and she often grieved the sober minds of 
every member in the family, by carolling forth 
'profane songs,' as the Pixleys called them, 
while how she became acquainted with them, 
remained for ever a mystery. Often did the 
conscientious mind of Walter Pixley question 
with liimself, whether it was quite right to 
maintain so light a maiden under his roof ; but 
then the affectionate being, who had no friends 
save them in the world, had so entwined herself 
round the hearts of all the household, that the 
good man banished the idea as inhuman, and 
never ventured to give it utterance. Martha 
and her mother meantime strove to win over 
this bright young creature to their own views, 
and for a few moments she would settle her 
beautiful face to a solemn expression, try to sub- 
due, what her friends called, ' her airy imagina- 
tion,' and attend the preaching of some eminent 
Friend. But it would not do — the true chara-c- 



ter burst forth through all — Mary was again all 
wit aud laughter, and though her friends re- 
proved, they loved her, and forgave all. 

On the accession of James II., which is the 
period at which our little narrative is now 
arrived, persecution raged again with greater 
violence than ever ; aud the Pixleys, along with 
seventeen other friends, both men and women, 
were dragged from their meeting-house by a 
brutal soldiery, under the command of the Jus- 
tice we have before mentioned, to the dungeon- 
like county jail, in the depth of winter. The 
hardships they endured were so dreadful, that 
it is painful to relate them. They were kept 
many days without food, and allowed neither 
fire nor candle ; their prison was damp and cold, 
and they were furnished with straw only for 
their beds ; they were also forbidden to see their 
friends, who might have procured them some of 
the necessaries of life ; nor were they allowed to 
represent, by letter, their case to any influential 
man of the county, who might have interested 
himself on their behalf And to all this was 
added the brutality of a cruel jailor, who heaped 
upon them all the ignominy he could devise. 
In these dreadful circumstances lay the gentle 
Martha Pixley and her parents. Mary, not hav- 
ing -accompanied them to their place of worship, 
did not share their fate. 

Poor mother Pixley's health had long been 
declining, and this confinement reduced her so 
low, that in a few days her life was despaired 
of ; still, no medical aid could be procured, and 



the cloaks and coats of many of her suffering 
companions were given up to furnish covering 
for her miserable bed. 

When the news came to Marj of tlie com- 
mital of her friends to jail, the distress of her 
mind expressed itself in a burst of uncontrollable 
indignation ; and then, asking counsel of no one, 
she threw on her liat and cloak, and taking with 
her an old man who lived in the family as a 
labourer, she hurried to the Justice's ; and as 
she did not appear with any mark of the de- 
spised Quaker, either in dress or manner, she 
soon obtained admittance. The magistrate was 
somewhat startled by the sudden apparition of 
so fair and young a maiden, and demanded her 
pleasure with unwonted courtesy, seating her in 
the chair beside him, and removing from his 
head the laced hat which he was wearing at her 
entrance. Mary made her demand for the lib- 
eration of her friends, the Quakers. The Justice 
stared, as if doubting his senses, and rallied her 
on the strangeness of her request, charging upon 
the Quakers all those absurd and monstrous 
things which were alleged against them in those 
days. Mary, nothing abashed, denied every 
charge as false, and demanded, if not the libera- 
tion of her friends, at least tlie amelioration of 
their sufferings. As Mary pleaded, the Justice 
grew angry, and at length the full violence of 
his temper broke forth, and the high-spirited 
girl, even more indignant than terrified, rushed 
from his presence. 

What was next to be done? She ordered her 

IV. T 



old attendant to saddle the horses, and mount- 
ing one, and bidding him follow on the other, 
she set off to the county town. There she found 
great numbers of Friends surrounding the prison 
with baskets of provisions, bedding, warm cloth- 
ing, and fuel, begging for admittance to their 
perishing brethren. Little children, too, there 
were, weeping for their imprisoned parents, and 
offering their little all to the jailor, so that they 
might be permitted to share their captivity. 
Mary made her way through this melancholy 
crowd, peremptorily demanded access to the 
jailor, and was admitted ; her garb, unlike that 
of the persecuted Quakers, obtaining for her this 
favour, as at the house of the Justice. But here 
again her errand debarred her further success ; 
the jailor would neither allow her to see her 
friends, nor would he convey a message unto 
them. Mary could have wept in anger and 
vexation, and from intense sympathy with the 
grief she had witnessed outside the walls — but 
she did not ; she retorted upon the jailor the 
severity of his manner, and bidding him look 
to the consequences, folded her cloak round her, 
and walked forth again into the circle of Friends 
who surrounded the gate. The jailor laughed 
as he drew the heavy bolts after her, and bade 
her do her worst. 

Among the Friends collected in the street be- 
fore the prison, Mary heard that William Penn, 
who had just returned from his new settlement 
in America, was now in London. As soon as 
•she heard this, she determined upon her plan 



of couduct. She knew his influence with the 
king, who, when Duke of York, had induced his 
brother, Charles II , to bestow on him that tract 
of laud called Pennsylvania. To him, therefore, 
she determined to go, and praj him to represent 
to the king the deplorable sufferings of Friends 
in those parts. 

When her old attendant heard of her meditated 
journey, he looked upon her as almost insane. 
To him the project was appalling. It would 
require many days to reach London, and who 
must take charge of the farm in his absence, 
seeing his worthy master was in prison ? And 
then, too, though he had been willing to attend 
her as far as the next town, would it be right 
for a young maiden and an old man to endanger 
their lives by so long and so strange a journey ? 

Mary was uninfluenced by his reasoning, nor 
was she to be daunted by his fears. 'If,' she 
said, ' he would not accompany her, she would 
go alone.' She bade him, therefore, to have her 
horse saddled by break of day, and retired to 
her own apartment, to prepare for the journey. 

'Of a surety,' said the old man to himself, 
' she is a wilful young thing.' 

In the morning, however, she found not only 
her horse prepared, but the old man and his 
also, for wilful as she was, the old man loved 
her ; and though he could not conjecture the 
object of so strange a journey, 'he would,' he 
said, ' go with her to the end of the world.' 

Mary had ventured to make use of the stores 
in Walter Pixley's coffers, for she considered 



the lives of her friends were at stake. She was 
therefore sufficieutlj supplied with money for 
their journey. 

For this time the wild gaiety of Mary's spirits 
was gone, but instead was a strong energy and 
determination of character, wliich supported her 
above fatigue, or the apprehension of danger; 
and day after day, from town to town, in the 
depth of winter, did she and her attendant 
journey onward. They had no intercourse with 
travellers on the road, nor did they make known 
to any one the object of their journey. 

When she arrived in London, slie went straight 
to the house where William Peun had his tem- 
porary residence, and without introduction, apo- 
logy, or circumlocution, laid before that great 
and good man the sad condition of her suffering 
friends. She then made him acquainted with 
her own private history, lier obligations to the 
family of the worthy Walter Pixley, and the 
anxiety she now felt for the life of her who had 
been as a mother unto her. 

William Penn heard her with evident emo- 
tion, and promised to do all that lay in his power 
for her benefactors ; though he assured her she 
had overrated his influence with the King. He 
then desired Mary to take up her abode under 
his roof ; and bidding an attendant call in his 
mistress, lie gave her into the hands of his fair 
and gentle wife, briefly relating to her upon 
what errand tlie young maiden had come. 

When Mary found her mission thus far so 
happily accomplished, and the door shut upon 



lierself and lier Itiiid hostess, tlie overstrained 
energy of her spirit for a moment relaxed, and 
she wept lilce a feeble child. The fair wife of 
William Penn understood her feelings, soothed 
her with syrapatliy, and encouraged her to open 
lier heart freely. Never had Mary seen good- 
ness so graceful and attractive as in the high- 
minded and gentle being before her. Her very 
soul blessed lier as she spoke ; she could not 
doubt but that all would be well ; and with her 
heart comforted, assured, and filled with grati- 
tude, it seemed as if a new life had been given 
to her. 

The next day William Penn obtained an 
audience of the King, and so wrought upon him 
by the story of the heroic young creature under 
his roof, and the sufl'eriiigs of her friends, that 
he desired she might be brought before him, and 
receive from his own hands the order for tlieir 

Mai'y was accordingly arrayed in the best 
garments her scanty wardrobe permitted, by the 
elegant and gentle hands of Gulielma Penn, 
who surveyed her beautiful face and figure with 
admiration, and then kissed her and blessed her, 
as an affectionate mother might bless a beloved 

Leaning upon the arm of lier protector, she 
was conducted through a great chamber of lords 
and ladies, assembled for the occasion, into the 
presence of tiie King. Mary's heart beat viol- 
ently, as her companion, drawing her arm from 
liis, presented her to his sovereign, who grn- 



ciously bade her speak her wishes without fear. 
Reassured by the kindness of the King's man- 
ner, ahnost forgetting the presence in which she 
stood, for what seemed to her the greater im- 
portance of her errand, she made her petition 
gracefully and well. She related all she had 
told William Penn of the great kindness of the 
Pixleys to her, and her otherwise desolate con- 
dition ; she told of their domestic virtues, of 
their piety, and their firm loyalty ; and, lastly, 
of their wretched condition in the jail, with that 
of many others ; and of the cruelty of the Justice 
and the jailor ; and then, almost unconsciously 
falling on her knees, she prayed so eloquently 
that they might be released, that the King turned 
aside to wipe away a tear before he put forth his 
hand to raise her. 

The petition was granted. The King himself 
put into her hands the order for their release, 
and then praying God might bless her, and tak- 
ing leave of William Penn very kindly, passed out 
of the presence-chamber. Many of the lords ac- 
companied the King, but the rest closing around 
the almost terrified maiden, overwhelmed her 
with compliments. William Penn, who saw her 
confusion, apologized for her with all the grace 
of a courtier, and extricating her from the 
admiring company, conveyed her, like a being 
walking in a dream, to his own house. 

Not a moment was lost in sending down by 
express the order for the Friends' enlargement, 
and together with that a dismissal from liis office 
for the jailor. Rest was now absolutely ncccs- 



sary for Marj after these extraordiuary exer- 
tions ; William Penn detained her, therefore, a 
few days under his roof, and then conveyed her 
himself in his own comfortable carriage to the 
house of her friends. It is impossible to describe 
the joy which her return afibrded, and which 
was not a little increased by the presence of her 
illustrious companion. 

The troubles and persecutions of the Pixleys 
here came to an end, for they went over to 
Pennsylvania with its distinguished founder, on 
his return, and became noted among the most 
worthy and influential of the settlers there. 
Mary, however, returned to England, being 
affluently married ; and I myself, several years 
ago, was possessed of a piece of needlework said 
to have been of her doing. 

Epb. iv. 5. 

I am the bread of life : he that cometh to me shall never 
hunger; and he that believeth on me shall never thirst.' 
— John vi. 35. 

The white- vested priest may with water baptize, 

But can he the infant thus s])iritualize ? 

He may sprinkle its face, and bede^^ its fair skin. 

But can be infuse the good Spirit within ? 

With water, said .)olin, I baptize you indeed, 

But soon a far mightier than I shall succeed ; 

Heaven's wisdom and judgment bis soul shall inspire, 

Lo, he shall baptize %ith the spirit and fire I 

I soon shall depart, and my office soon cease. 

His reign shall endure and for ever increase. 

By whom is the act then effectually done ? 



By Jesus the Lord, or his forerunner John ? 

To the all-needful process then let us submit, 

For as a refiner, lo ! Jesus shall sit ; 

And his people as gold and as silver refine. 

Till in tlieiu he beholds his own image divine. 

One Lord, and one faith, and one baptism wo own. 

And obedience will yield to the Saviour alone. 

What though we partake of the bread and the w'ine. 
For safety on this dare we solely recline ? 
The life-giving bread alone cometh from Heaven. 
And freely to all is this food Divine given — 
To all that on Jesus, their Saviour, rely, 
Wlio of his abundance their wants will supply. 
Through him who once died will their sins be forgiven, 
And with joy shall they enter the kingdom of heaven. 
' Behold,' saith the Saviour, ' I stand at the door, 
And knock,' and an entrance within I im[dore. 
List then to his voice, whosoever thou art. 
And give him possession at once of thy heart ; 
Then thou at his table with him shalt recline, 
With him shalt partake of a supper divine. 
This, this is to eat of the true living Bread, 
And communion to have with the great cov'nant Head ! 
One Lord, and one faith, and one baptism we own, 
And obedience will yield to the Saviour alone. 
York, 1843. Holman Shephard. 

If an earthly prince quits his palace to visit 
the cottage of a poor peasant, it is thought 
great condescension — what then shall we think 
of the King of kings, who deigns to fix his abode 
in the contrite and humble soul ? 


Dauguter of Thomas Crowley, of London, being, 
seized with illness which continued several 



months, was preserved in much patience, and 
uttered many expressions whicli showed the 
fervency of her mind. At one time she ex- 
pressed herself thus — ' The pains of death are 
hard to bear, hut I am sensible they are not on 
me now, but they are near approaching ; death 
is no terror to me. " O death ! where is thy 
sting ; O grave ! where is thy victory ? " My 
dear, tender mother, it will be a bitter cup, but 
it is tlie Lord's preparing, and therefore I drink 
it willingly.' Being removed into the country, 
for the benefit of the air, she expressed herself 
to the following eifect : — 'This is hard work ; 
it is indeed hard to bear, but the Lord is with 
me in these trying moments. I did not think 
my dissolution was so near, but I am ready. 
Take me, Father, take me to thyself this even- 
ing, if it be thy will, for I long to be with thee 
in paradise. Though I have endured so many 
moments of agonizing pain, the Lord has been 
my support througli the whole, and, I doubt not, 
will continue to be with me to the end. O 
Father ! Father I Father ! bow the heavens, and 
come down ; be thou with thy people universally 
all the world over. Why do ye weep? Weep 
not for me, but give me up to the Lord, for I 
am happy, far happier than I can express. I 
wish every one of you could feel what 1 feel at 
this time, for it is beyond expression ; O, it is 
like a heaven upon earth ; it hath not entered 
into the heart of man to conceive what good 
things God hath in store for them that love him.' 
To one of her sisters she said, ' 0 ! my sister. 



give up, give up, now in the days of thy youth ; 
for the Lord loves an early sacrifice. 0, pre- 
pare thyself ! lest it should please the Lord to 
cut thee down in the flower of thy youth. ' 

About two weeks before her departure, she 
earnestly prayed, that it might please the 
Almighty to take her that night, and expressed 
herself as follows : — ' Thou hast been pleased to 
give me a taste of thy goodness, and a sight of 
thy glory, and it is glorious indeed ; but, 0 
Father I I long to be with thee, that I may 
enjoy it in a more plentiful manner — the gates 
of heaven are open to receive me.' She said, ' I 
have never murmured at what it is the Lord's 
will I should suffer, but I was content if the pain 
had been much greater, if it was the will of my 
lieavenly Father. 0 Lord I I long to be with 
thee, where my soul shall join the angels and 
archangels that are in heaven.' And she further 
added, ' and it is my desire that you, my tender 
brothers and sisters, may come to the same ex- 
perience ; I was nearly visited long before I was 
laid on this bed of sickness ; if I had not, it 
would be miserable indeed ; ' and a little after, 
' my spirit was warmed in the renewing of tliy 

About six days before her close, she sent for 
her three brothers separately to her bedside ; 
and, in a most affectionate and tender manner, 
cautioned them against the gaiety, riches, and 
grandeur of the world ; and exhorted them to 
walk in the path of virtue, to keep close to 
Divine instructions, and likewise to watch and 



pray continually ; adding, ' I feel it needful, 
even on mj deathbed.' To one of them she 
.said, ' Give up, O give up, remember the fear 
of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom ; seek 
thou that wisdom now in the days of thy youth ; 
step gently along, and keep thy mind low and 
humble before him.' After lying still a little 
time, she said, ' Though painful my nights, and 
wearisome my days, as Samuel Fothergill said, 
yet I am preserved in resignation and patience.' 

Some friends visiting her, she expressed to 
them, — ' My pains of body are great, but my 
dep'endence is on tlie Lord, and my only com- 
fort is in him ; I thought from the beginning 
that I should not get over it; but within these 
three weeks I have seen clearly I shall not ; ' 
and further observed, that she had been visited 
long before her illness, and had found great 
uneasiness in wearing things that were gay, and 
also in speaking in the plural language to one 
person ; and added, that she found it difficult 
to take up the cross, but when she did, her sat- 
isfaction was great, ' 0 ! what I feel for those 
■whose minds are involved in the world,' with 
much more ; all importing the happy state of 
her mind ; saying to one Friend, ' I am ready, 1 
have nothing to do but die.' 

She particularly requested of her father, that 
after her decease her body might be buried 
from Devonshire House meeting ; and desired 
that the young people of that quarter, in partic- 
ular, might be invited to attend ; hoping it might 
prove a profitable time to them. 



The evening preceding her departure, slie 
spoke to one of her sisters to the following 
effect: — Gaiety proceeds from pride, and pride 
is the root of all evil ; and she fervently exhorted 
against it. 

In the night her pains were exceeding great, 
and she felt the approacli of death ; and in tlie 
last two hours continued uttering ejaculations ; 
and, calling for her mother, on her coming to 
her, she said, ' Farewell ; ' and expired the 12tli 
of 2d month, 1774; being not quite seventeen 
years of age. 


Lord Eldox, although a great stickler for the 
Church, seldom or never attended public wor- 
ship. A parasite spoke of him to a friend as a 
'pillar of the church.' 'Say rather a but- 
tress,' was the reply, 'for you never see him 


The author of the following exhortation, David 
Bogue, an eminent minister among the Inde- 
pendents, for many years resident at Gosport, 
was a zealous advocate of the cause of peace, 
before societies for the promotion of that truly 
Christian object were in existence; and from a 
sermon of his, on Universal Peace, one of the 
best tracts of the London Peace Society, No. VI., 
was compiled. During the late war, at a time 
when the tradesmen of Gosport, and the neigh- 



bouring towns of Portsmouth and Portsea, wore 
carrying on, in consequence, a prosperous trade, 
David Bogue, in his public discourses from the 
pulpit and otherwise, bore an unflinching testi- 
mony in favour of peace, and published 


' All the disciples of Christ should imbibe the 
spirit of peace. It displays unspeakable mercy 
in God, that, while individuals who have been 
made partakers of his grace maintain senti- 
ments injurious to his honour and the happiness 
of man, he should yet compassionately hold 
communion with them. But these unciiristian 
opinions certainly prevent them from enjoying 
those full communications which God would 
otherwise impart. Let these old things, which 
belong to the old man, be done away, and all 
things become new. Understand your calling, 
brethren ; it is from darkness into marvellous 
light, that ye may shine as lights in the world, 
that ye may do no harm to any person of any 
country, but all the good in your power to all 
mankind. This was the spirit of your Master 
and of his religion, let it be yours; and let the 
ardour and universality of your benevolence 
continually increase. 

'Above all, let the ministers of Christ be men 
of peace, aud advocates for the peace of the 
world. If we seek to inflame the malevolent 
passions of the soul, who shall be found to cool 

IV. u 



them ? The people of the world talk of gloi'y 
from victory and conquest, but we know that 
honour and happiness can arise only from doing 
the will of God, and living in subjection to hira, 
and in peace with men. Let us tell the world 
so, and call them away from their angry con- 
tests for mastery, to dwell in love. 0 that those 
who preach to emperors and kings, to ministers 
of state, to senates, and to parliaments, would 
lift up their voice like a trumpet, and proclaim 
to them, from the great Jehovah and from Jesus 
Christ, who shed his blood for sinners, to save 
them from misery, that the religion of the New 
Testament is a religion of peace ; and that for 
the blood of every man slain in war, the al- 
mighty Ruler of the universe will demand an 
account from those who direct the affairs of 
nations, and decree violence aud war, and not 
pursue peace with their whole heart. 

' The co-operation of all enlightened Chris- 
tians to diffuse these benevolent principles, 
■would do much to promote the peace of the 
world. The great changes in the moral world, 
which are pregnant with happiness to man, are 
only to be brought about by the most vigorous 
exertions of moral principle in the breast of the 
wise and good. It is from the operation of prin- 
ciples that the peaceful state of the world is to 
be produced ; and these principles must be dis- 
seminated by tliose in whose hearts they reign. 
Few they may be at first, but the number will 
continually increase. Let every one consider 
what he can do to promote the grand work, and 



let him do it without delay. He that has no- 
thing else, has a tongue to plead the cause of 
peace in his domestic circle, and infuse his 
sentiments into the minds of his neighbours too, 
and his acquaintances, and those he meets with 
in the way. Another can write clearly and 
forcibly, let his letters to his friends bear testi- 
mony to his zeal, and let him compose tracts to 
enlighten society on the subject. A third has 
a talent for poetry, let him, in tuneful numbers, 
touch the reader's heart with a delineation of 
the miseries of war aud the blessings of peace. 
A fourth possesses wealth, and he can pui-chase 
these publications, and spread them far and 
wide. A fifth is a man of genius, and could, 
in a fuller and more elaborate treatise, give an 
extensive as well as an impressive view of the 
doctrine, let him consecrate his powers to this 
service, in honour of the Prince of peace. A 
sixth has the eloquence of Apollos, and he can 
stand up in a public assembly, and arrest the 
attention and move the heart of every hearer, 
let him cry aloud and spare not, and merit the 
title of the orator of peace. Tlie ministers of 
Christ from the pulpit (and it is no improper 
theme for that hallowed place) can lead their 
audience to a sight of the sources of wars — those 
lusts which war in the members, and unveil 
their deformity ; and can display with success 
tlie charming beauties of peace on earth and 
goodwill to men. 

' To collect the force of all these into one 
centre, from which the rays of light and heat 

u 2 



may be emitted in every direction, with more 
powerful energy, is a thing of high importance. 
This effect an association will produce ; and, as 
we live in an age of societies to combine indi- 
vidual efforts for public benefit, why should not 
one be formed for promoting peace among the 
nations of the eartli ? * If such a society were 
formed, and was to exert itself with becoming 
activity, in ten years' time the pacific principle 
would be so widely diffused through every rank 
in the communitj^ that it would be no easy 
matter (the expression is too cold) — it would be 
inconceivably difficult — nay, almost impossible 
to prevail on the people of Great Britain to en- 
gage in war. The subject, every one will allow, 
merits all the attention that can be given to it. 
We want a man, wise, good, benevolent, and 
zealous, to lay the foundation stone of this 
temple of peace, and aid in demolishing the 
capitol of war, that its stones may be taken to 
build the walls of this sacred edifice. 

' 0 that God would call forth some wise, pious, 
enlightened, ardent philanthropist, who shall 
form this determination in his heart, and carry 
it into execution : — " To convince mankind that 
Christianity forbids war, to banish the idea of 
its lawfulness from their creed, and the love of 

* It will be perceived that the above was written prior to 
the foniiation of Peace Societies. The animated language 
of the author, and his conviction of the effects of an Associa- 
tion, raises a feeling of regret that the Peace Society is not 
better supported, and does not send out a more efficient 




its practice from their hearts ; and to make all 
men seek peace with their whole soul, and pursue 
it with all their might, till it establish an uni- 
versal reign over human nature, shall be the 
grand object of mj existence on earth." And 
how exalted an object of benevolence does he 
choose ! The suffering of the tenants of a prison- 
house, in comparison of the miseries of war, is 
but as the anguish of a single family pining 
away and dying for want, when placed by the 
side of a whole populous province desolated by 
famine, which has consumed all its inhabitants. 
Even the more extensive calamities of the Afri- 
can slave trade, drawn up in array before the 
ravages, and tortures, and horrors of war, are 
but like the hill Mizar compared to Lebanon. 
What blessings will not descend on the head 
and heart of the man who devotes himself to 
the destruction of this monstrous foe of human 
happiness ?' 


' Peace I leave with you ; my peace I give unto you ; not 
as the world giveth, give I unto you.' — John xiv. 27. 

If such the legacy bequeathed 

By Jesus to his own; 
If such the meek injunctions breathed 

Ere he from eartli had flown, 
How should his lowly followers fiijlit ? 
Reading his gracious words aright. 

His kingdom is not of this world. 

Nor by it understood ! 
The banner, from his cross unfurl'd, 

Leads not to acts of blood ! 

u 3 



The Christian's warfare is within, 
With pride and passion, self and sin. 

Whence come your wars, frail worms of dust ? 

What are your fightings for ? 
Envy and hatred, greed and lust. 

Which in your members war ; 
Dwells such a dark, unhallow'd host, 
In temples of the Holy Ghost ? 

When angels first, to shepherds' ears. 

Announced the Saviour's birth. 
What watchword did the heavenly spheres 

Pour down on listening earlh ? 
' Glory to God, who dwells on high ; 
Toward men — good-will and unity !' 

When Christ, on Calvary's blood-stain'd hill, 

His life a ransom paid, 
What peaceful love, triumphant still, 

Prom|)ted the prayer he pi-ayed ! 
A prayer — how tender, brief, and true — 
' Forgive ; they know not what they do.'' 

'Tis by its fruit the tree is known; 

The test of truth is love ! 
Have they, then, reverently shown 

Theirs to their Lord above. 
Who bid their fellow-creatures bleed. 
And by their acts belie their creed ? 

Thank God ! this gospel truth, no more 

To one small sect confined. 
From sea to sea, from shore to shore. 

Shall flash on many a mind ; 
Till earth below, and heaven above. 
Join in one hymn of peace and love ! 

Bernard Barton. 

Woodbridge, &h Month, 18th, 18i3. 




About the beginning of 1672, several persons 
both in Aberdeen and its vicinity, withdrawing 
from tlie religion established by law, the public 
preachers of the city were so incensed as to pro- 
cure, by their influence with the magistrates, 
the pulling down and demolishhig the walls of a 
burial ground, which the people called Quakers 
had purchased, and wherein a child had been, a 
few days before, interred. By the order of tho 
provost and baillies, the body of this child was 
taken out of the ground after three days' inter- 
ment, and carried to a village called Futte, or 
Foot of Dee, where they had a grave made for 
it. But a rumour being raised, by some mali- 
cious persons, that Friends, to deceive the ma- 
gistrates, had taken out the child's body, and 
tilled the coffin with something else, they or- 
dered it to be broken open ; in doing which the 
corpse was injured. In the same year in which 
this piece of wanton inhumanity was practised, 
an unusual mortality is stated to have taken 
place amongst the cliildren there, such as had 
not occurred in the memory of any person 
then I'esident in the vicinity. The very next 
day after the raising of the body of this child, 
it so happened that John Scott, one of the ma- 
gistrates, who had been the most active instru- 
ment in this affair, had his own favourite grand- 
child uuiutentionally killed by the servant, wliich 
occasioned much distress to the family. Going 
on in his usual course of wickedness, among 



similar acts, often causing the walls of burial 
places to be pulled down, &c. ; he was shortly 
afterwards suspended in his career bj a fall, 
which fractured his leg. They, nevertheless, 
continued to remove every corpse that was in- 
terred in the same ground ; nor did the barbar- 
ous practice cease, till a representation being 
made to the king's council, a secret check was 
given them, and this, more than ordinary inhu- 
manity, at last put a stop to. 

What a sad illustration is presented in the 
instance here related of the length to which 
men may be carried, when they relieve them- 
selves from the obligations of Christianity, and 
a civilized state ! — (A. Jaffuay's Diary, p. 308. 


'WouLDST thou know,' said the thoughtful 'Elia,' 
' what true peace and quiet mean ; wouldst thou 
find a refuge from the noises and clamours of 
the multitude; wouldst thou enjoy at once soli- 
tude and society ; wouldst thou possess the depth 
of thy own spirit in stillness, without being shut 
out from the consolatory faces of thy species ; 
wouldst thou be alone, and yet accompanied ; 
solitary, yet not desolate; singular, yet not 
without some to keep thee in countenance ; an 
unit in aggregate ; a simple in composite ; come 
with me into a Quaker's meeting. Nothing- 
plotting, nought-caballing, unmischievous synod! 
convocation without intrigue ! parliament with- 



out debate I what a lesson dost thou read to 
council and to consistory ! My spirit hath 
gravely felt the wisdom of your custom, when 
sitting among you in deepest peace, which some 
out-welling tears would rather confirm than dis- 
turb, I have reverted to the times of your be- 
ginnings, and the sowings of the seed by Fox 
and Dewsbury. I have witnessed that which 
brought before my eyes your heroic tranquillity, 
inflexible to the rude jests and serious violences 
of the insolent soldiery, republican or royalist, 
sent to molest you ; for ye sat betwixt the fires 
of two persecutions, the outcast and offscouring 
of church and presbytery. I have seen the 
reeling sea ruffian, who had wandered into your 
receptacle, with the avowed intention of disturb- 
ing your quiet, from the very spirit of the place 
receive, in a moment, a new heart, and presently 
sit among ye as a lamb amidst lambs. I re- 
member Penn before his accusers, and Fox in 
the bail-dock, when he was lifted up in spirit, 
as he tells us, and 'the judge and the jury be- 
came as dead men under his feet. ' — (From ' JElia,' 
by Charles Lamb.) 


TiTE most difficult trial of moral courage is, 
when personal provocation and peril have to be 
endured. During the Irish rebellion, in 1798, 
some remarkable instances of the power of 
passive resistance were afforded, which deserve 



the serious attention of all — the young espe- 
cially, because they establish two important 
positions— the first, that there is more bravery 
in enduring evil than in resenting it ; and the 
second, that Providence extends, in a wonderful 
manner, its protection to those who, taking 'no 
thought for their life,' quietly and prayerfully 
resign themselves into its keeping ; leaving the 
retribution of oifences to Him who has said — 
'Vengeance is mine, I will repay.' 

Nothing is a greater trial to the passions of 
human nature tlian to be exposed to personal 
danger, arising from the cruelty and bad pas- 
sions of others. Naturally, violence begets 
violence — anger excites anger ; but this ought 
never to be the case with those who call them- 
selves by the name of Christ ; ' Who, when he 
was reviled, reviled not again.' To flesh and 
blood this is a diiScult attainment, but it is 
worth attaining ; and, more than that, it is our 
duty to attain it if we would exemplify the 
gospel of Christ in our lives and conversation. 
' What pusillanimity ! what cowardice ! ' ex- 
claims some rash and thoughtless youth, whose 
spirit has never been disciplined by the teach- 
ings of wisdom. Alas ! cowardice and pusilla- 
nimity far more frequently belong to the man 
who wields the sword, and embrues his hand in 
tlie blood of his fellow-creatures, on the plea of 
necessity. There is not much physical, and no 
moral, heroism in fighting. It may be brawl- 
ing — ^it is not bravery. 

During a time of rebellion, when a kingdom 



is divirled against itself, it is very difficult to 
remain neuter. We may avoid engaging in, or 
sympathizing witli, ordinary warfare ; but when 
our neighbours and friends become the subjects 
of aggression, or are engaged in the conflict, 
then interest in their actions, sympathy in their 
sufferings, is inevitable. The condition of the 
peace-loving members of the Society of Friends 
during the Irish rebellion, was an interesting 
exemplification of moral heroism sustaining a 
^ people in peace in the midst of conflicting 
: parties, and wliile under the apprehension of 
'. impending violence and death. 

As early as the years 1795-96, their attention 
1 was called to the threatening aspect of affairs, 
l| and their course determined on. In the county 
j of Wexford many Friends resided, and it is re- 
I markable that, though they aided the martial 
I operations in no one particular, yet in seasons 
of distress they succoured tlie wounded and 
wretched of each party : — 

r ' They did not question their opinion 

Of party, kingship, or dominion ; 

i They did not even their folly chide : 

But like the sun and showers of heaven, 
Which to tlie false and true are given. 
Want and distress relieved on either side.' 

This mode of conduct, at the time, subjected 
the Friends to the animadversions of both 
parties. The military accused them of dis- 
loyalty — the rebels of apathy ; and yet they 
carried out their principles in the minutest 
particular. A worthy man at Ferns, in the 



county of Wicklow, op the breaking out of the 
rebellion, to show his neighbours the part he 
meant to act, took out his fowling-piece the only 
weapon that would find a place in the dwelling 
of a Friend, and broke it to pieces^before his 
door, in the ©pen street ; thus showing to all 
that his house was entirely without weapon of 
offence or defence. Another individual, who 
kept a shop where ropes and hardware were 
sold, had his dwelling surrounded by the mili- 
tary, who came and demanded ropes to hang 
the rebels they had taken. Though his life 
was imperilled by the refusal, as it might be 
construed into rebellion, the Friend refused to 
supply the rope for taking away the life of a 
fellow-creature. At another time, a night at- 
tack on a town in possession of the rebels was 
intended by the military, and all persons not 
in league with the rebels were commanded to 
put lights in their windows ; but, as the Friends 
chose to put confidence in the protection of G-od 
rather than man, they declined to do this, par- 
ticularly as such lights would aid the combat- 
ants in their murderous warfare. In all these 
instances, though sternly threatened and in im- 
minent peril, the moral heroism of the Friends 
triumphed, and their lives were preserved. 

Scarcely any one, who, in that dreadful time, 
resided in Ireland, dared to attempt going out 
on their usual pursuits, for all subordination 
was at an end ; and yet the Friends, unarmed, 
went constantly to their religious meetings 
through the most disturbed districts of the 



country, and though commanded, on peril of 
their lives, to desist. Conscience commanded 
them to go, and thej went, leaving the issue in 
the hands of the Almighty, who wonderfully 
preserved them. Throughout the whole of that 
fearful time, it is a remarkable fact, that only 
one member of the Society of Friends perished, 
and he was led to trust in the power of earthly 
weapons to preserve him, rather than in the care 
of an Almighty Protector. — (C. L. Balfocr.) 


From the pen of a well-known and highly gifted 
young Friend, lately deceased, were composed 
during a violent thunder storm, wherein two 
young men, not far from the writer, were de- 
prived of life by a stroke of lightning : — 

Oh I Lord of heaven and earth, and all 

That is, or was, or yet shall be ! 
Upon thy holy name we call. 

With t'alt'ring tongue and bended knee. 

Great God of light, of life, of power, 
To whom in faith the soul can flee. 

Sustain us in this dreadful hour, 
And fix our hearts alone on thee. 

Lord, on the storm thou'rt passing by. 

In might and majesty profound ; 
Thy lightnings rend the clouds on high. 

Thy thunders burst with awful sound. 

Father of spirits ! calm our fear 

'Midst thy red lightning's vivid flame ; 

Teach us to feel that thou art near, 
In calm and tempest still the same. 

IV. X 



And as in reverence we bow 

Before thy throfle, Almighty God ! 

Frail, erring creatures, O I do thou, 
Tn mercy, make us kiss thy rod. 

If thy pure witness in the soul 
Doth testify that guilt is there. 

Do thou the raging storm control. 
Be merciful, O Lord, and spare. 

For thou who fling'st the lightning down 
From thy dread armoury above, 

And mak'st the clouds reflect thy power. 
Art still, O God, a God of love. 

And though thou terrible appear 

When thunder-bolts, thy heralds, speak, 

Grant us to live in holy fear. 

That we in hope thy face may seek. 

One stroke from thy Almighty hand 
Could rend the universe away; 

Kings, nobles, all, before thee stand 
But weak and fragile worms of clay. 

Directed to our hojie on high, 
On thee alone, O God, we call ; 

Equal in thine Almighty eye. 
Save good and evil, are we all. 

'Tis of thy mercy well we know 
That by thy word alone we live ; 

To whom but thee. Lord, can we go ? 
Who else the bread of life can give ? 

The clouds now part, the storm is past. 
The evening sun beams on the earth ; 

And lie who blew the tempest's blast. 
Has put his bow of promise forth. 


Then let us covenant make with thee. 
Father of mt-rcies, God of love ! 

7f thou through life our God*wilt be, 
Obedient sons we'll strive to prove. 



Let not this time of deep-felt awe 
Paiss with j'on parting clouds away ; 

Rebels in heart, like those who saw 
Thy wondei-s in an ancient day ; 

When Canaan's sons before thee fled, 
And Moses' face in glory shone ; 

When Sinai bent his hoary head 

Beneath the lightnings from thy throne. 

Thy elements have ceased their strife, 
The rain-drop on the flower shines clear ; 

Peace, whisper peace, O God of life. 

Through all the storms that wait us here. 


The Fifth-monarchy men appear to have held 
the principle of the establishment of Christ's 
kingdom on earth hy the sword. If the reader 
turns to Dan. ii. 36-45, he will perceive on what 
prophecy these mistaken men built their system. 
' There was at that time (about the year 1661, 
says Sewel) a great number of these turbulent 
people in England ; who, perceiving that their 
exorbitant opinion was inconsistent with kingly 
government, which now had taken place, thouglit 
it not meet for their cause to sit still while the 
government, which was yet but new, should be 
fully settled and established. Perhaps they 
had also some intent to free some of the late 
King's judges, who were imprisoned.' George 
Fox says, ' Tliere»seemed at that time an incli- 
nation and intention in the government to have 
granted Friends liberty, because they were sen- 
sible we had suffered, as well as they, under the 




former powers. But when auytliing was going 
forward in order thereunto, some dirty spirits 
or other, that would seem to he for us, threw 
something in the way to stop it. It was said 
there was an instrument drawn for confirming 
our liberty, which only wanted signing ; when 
on a sudden that wicked attempt of the Fifth- 
monarchy people broke out, and put the city and 
nation in an uproar. This was on a First-day 
night ; and very glorious meetings we had that 
day ; wherein the Lord's truth shined over all, 
and his power was exalted over all ; but about 
midnight the drums beat, and the cry was, 
" Arm, arm ! " ' George relates his own dangers 
and escapes on this occasion, in which he ex- 
perienced the protection of a gentleman of the 
King's bedchamber, who had before been his 
friend ; but many others were not so favoured. 
He adds, ' Great havoc was made both in city 
and country, so that it was dangerous for sober 
people to stir abroad several weeks after ; and 
hardly could either man or woman go up and 
down the streets to buy provisions for their 
families without being abused. In the country 
they dragged men and women out of their houses, 
and some sick men out of their beds by the legs. 
Nay, one that was in a fever the soldiers dragged 
out of his bed to prison, andwhen he was brought 
thither he died.' — {Journal, 314.) Neale says, 
' Their leader was Thomas Venner, a wine-cooper, 
who in his little conventicle in Coleman Street 
warmed his admirers with passionate expecta- 
tions of a fifth universal monarchy, under the 



personal reign of King Jesus upon earth ; and 
that the saints were to take the kingdom to 
themselves. To introduce this imaginary king- 
dom, they marched out of their meeting-house 
towards St. Paul's Churchyard, on Sunday, 
January 6, 16G1, to the number of about fifty 
men, well armed, and with a resolution to sub- 
vert the present government, or die in tlie at- 
tempt.' This author I'elates the particulars of 
their conflicts with the military, until suppressed 
with the loss of half their number, and nine be- 
sides who were executed. He adds, ' This mad 
insurrection gave the Court a handle for break- 
ing through the late declaration of indulgence, 
within three months after it was publi.shed ; for 
(January 2), there was an Order of Council 
against the meetings of sectaries in great num- 
bers and at unusual times ; and on January 10, a 
proclamation was published, whereby his Majesty 
forbids the Anabaptists, Quakers, and Fifth-mon- 
archy men, to assemble or meet together under 
pretence of worshipping God, except it be in 
some parochial church or chapel, or in private 
houses by the persons there inhabiting. All 
meetings in other places are declared to be 
riotous and unlawful.' 

The Dissenters of the different denominations 
disclaimed all connection with Venner and his 
party — some of whom also cleared Friends in 
what they said the place of execution — but 
it cost many Dissenters dear. As an instance 
— ' Mr. John Bunyan was apprehended at a meet- 
ing and committed to prison, though he offei'ed 

X 3 



bail till the next sessions. He was then iu- 
dicted for devilishly and perniciously abstaining 
from coming to church to hear Divine service ; 
and as a common upholder of several unlawful 
meetings and conventicles, to the distraction of 
the good subjects of this kingdom, contrary to 
the laws of our Sovereign Lord the King.' He 
frankly owned being at the meeting. The Jus- 
tices took this for a confession of the indictment ; 
and because he refused to conform, sentenced 
him to perpetual banishment, on an Act made 
by the then Parliament. Though the sentence 
of banislmaent was never executed on him, he 
was kept in prison twelve years and a half ; and 
sutfered much under cruel and oppressive jailors. 


The principle of the Quakers is the spirit of 
Christ, who died for us, and is risen for our jus- 
tification ; by which we know tliat we are his ; 
and he dwelleth in us by his Spirit ; and by his 
Spirit we are led out of unrighteousness and 
ungodliness. It brings us to deny all plotting 
and contriving against the king or any man— 
and all manner of ungodliness, as lying, theft, 
murder, adultery, fornication ; also all uuclean- 
ness and debauchery, malice^nd hatred, deceit, 
cozening and cheating whatsoever — and the devil 
and all his works [in spiritual wickedness]. And 
the Spirit of Christ brings us to seek the peace 



and good of all men, and to live peaceably — and 
lead us from such evil works and actions as tlio 
magistrate's sword takes hold upon. And our 
desire and labour is, that all who profess them- 
selves Christians may walk in the spirit of 
Christ ; that tliej througli the Spirit maj mor- 
tify the deeds of tlie flesh, and by the sword of 
the Spirit may cut down sin and evil in them- 
selves. Then the judges and other magistrates 
would not have so much work in punisliing sin 
.in the kingdom, neither need kings nor princes 
fear any of their subjects. That spirit that 
leads people from all manner of sin and evil is 
one with the magistrate's power, and with the 
righteous law. For the law being added because 
of transgression, that spirit that leads out of 
transgression must needs be one witli the law 
that is against transgressors. So that spirit that 
leads out of transgression is the good spirit of 
Clirist, and is one with the magistrates, in the 
higher power ; and owns it [tlie higher power] 
and them [therein]. But that spirit that leads 
into transgression is the bad spirit, and is against 
the law and against the magistrates, and makes 
them a great deal of troublesome work, &c.' 

' The powers that be are ordained of God.' 
Magistracy, simply considered, and righteous 
laws founded on God's word, are here owned 
by George Fox, in his own and his friends' be- 
half, in the fullest manner, lie does not recur 
to the sword as his rule, altliougli the magistrate 
is said to ' bear it not in vain ' — he goes not at 
once to brute force (though this is sometimes 



required for the punishment or restraint of evil- 
doers) but to right reason ; which is one and the 
same, in its full extent and perfection, with God's 
word; and in lies, more truly than in the sword, 
the Christian magistrate's power and authority. 

And in an Epistle which he sent forth in 1659, 
not long after the death of Cromwell, he says, 
' All that pretend to fight for Christ are deceived ; 
for his kingdom is not of this world, therefore 
his servants do not fight. All that pretend to 
fight for the gospel are deceived ; for the gospel is 
the power of God, which was before the devil, 
or fall of man was. All that talk of fighting for 
Sion are in darkness ; Sion needs no such helpers. 
All such as profess themselves ministersof Christ 
or Christians, and go about to beat down the whore 
■with outward and carnal weapons, the flesh and 
the whore are got up in themselves, and they 
are in a blind zeal : the beating down of the 
whore must be, by the inward stroke of the 
Spirit, within. All such as pretend Jesus Christ, 
and confess him, yet run into the use of carnal 
weapons, wrestling with flesh and blood, throw 
away the spiritual weapons. Friends, everywhere ! 
this I charge you (which is the word of the Lord 
God unto you all) live in peace — in Christ, which 
is the way of peace : therein seek the peace of 
all men, and no man's hurt.' — [Jour. f. p. 287.) 


In 1656, Nicholas Rickman and his wife were 
imprisoned in Sussex, through a very cold win- 



ter, by the Mayor of Arundel ; he for writing a 
paper concerning the true worship of Grod ; she 
for testifying against Henry Staples, a priest, 
and her own brother. After two sessions pass 
over, at the third they are called and discharged, 
no legal cause appearing for their commitment. 
— (Besse, vol. i., p. 208.) 


As the memory of the righteous is precious, it 
may he acceptable to our readers to be presented 
with the following short account of the close 
of this eminent and exemplary character, who 
died the 26th of the 12th month, 1780. 

He was suddenly seized, on the 12th of the 
12th month, 1780, with a violent return of a 
complaint to which he had been liable. The 
pain with which it was attended was so extreme, 
that his life was despaired of ; and from this 
state of deep suffering he experienced no inter- 
mission, except from the power of laudanum, 
and that was temporary and transient. 

During his conflicts with the pain to which 
the poor mortal frame was so severely subjected, 
his mind was favoured to rise on the wings of 
faith and love, superior to the sufferings wliich 
the body had to endure. In the midst of them 
he repeatedly endeavoured to comfort his affec- 
tionate sister, Ann Fothergill, who resided with 
him, b}' this consoling assurance — ' All is well 
witii rae. I am going to a blessed, happy eter- 



nity. ^ly sorrows, my troubles are ended, 
mourn not for me.' 

Thus terminated the earthlj career of a man 
who, having attained to superior eminence as a 
physician, evinced, in the hour of death, that 
a life which had been no less conspicuous for 
piety and benevolence, was the genuine fruit of 
Divine grace: so that the man was not more 
exalted than the Christian ; the glory of which 
must be ascribed to Him who said — ' Without 
Me, ye can do nothing.' 


Nicholas Jose, of the parish of Sennen, Land's 
End, Cornwall, appears to have been convinced, 
at a very early period, of the principles pro- 
fessed by Friends ; and in 1659, he was effec- 
tually reached under the ministry of George 
Fox, who calls him an honest fisherman, com- 
pares him to Peter, aud says that he became a 
faithful minister of Christ, and declared the 
truth among the people. 

Being considered a principal person among 
Friends in that part, he was soon subjected to 
much persecution and rudeness, in consequence 
of his faithfulness. For, in the next year, as 
he was passing quietly through Truro to visit 
his friends, watches being set to take up all 
suspicious persons, he was stopped by ' a guard 
of halberts,' and brought before an officer; when, 
for refusing to take the oath of allegiance, he 
was lodged for a week in the town prison, aud 



then sent to Laiuiceston jail, where lie was de- 
tained for about five mouths. 

On the 16th of the 3d month, 1G61, a meet- 
ing for Divine worship having been held in the 
parish of Mabe, near Falmouth, at the conclu- 
sion, as Friends were separating, a party of 
about fifty musketeers came, and brought them 
back into the meeting-house with muskets pre- 
sented and swords drawn, setting guard around. 
Then behaving very rudely, and committing 
much mischief, they drew out with violence N. 
Jose, J. Tregelles, and sixteen others, and car- 
ried them to Peudennis Castle ; where, without 
any examination, the men were put into a dark 
filthy dungeon, and four women Friends were 
shut up in a close chamber. They remained 
there through the night, and the next morning 
were guarded to Penryn, where they were kept 
in the town-hall for two days and nights, and 
then taken to Truro, and brought before J. and 
D. Polwhele. These Justices tendered them the 
oath of allegiance, and for their refusing to take 
it, sent them all to the common jail at Laun- 
ceston, where they continued pi'isoners till re- 
leased with others by a proclamation from tlie 

In the 5th month, 1662, Friends being met 
as usual in the parish called Sf. Just, to wait 
upon the Lord, one Captain Jones came with a 
company of soldiers, and taking out of the house 
Nicholas Jose, with ten other men, and five 
women Friends, carried them before a magis- 
trate, who committed them to the usual place 



of confinement at Launceston ; where, for re- 
fusing to find sui-etios for their good behaviour, 
he and three others remained prisoners for the 
extended period of five years and a half. 

In 1072, he and seven other Friends were 
released from another imprisonment by letters 
patent from King Charles II. He was again 
eent to jail for a short time in the following 
year, for refusing the oath of allegiance : indeed 
scarcely a year seems to have passed without 
his being called upon to sulFer severely, in some 
way or other, for the testimony of a good con- 

Besides his employment in fishing, Nicholas 
Jose carried on a little retail trade as a shop- 
keeper, and cultivated a very small piece of land. 
The occupation of this subjected him to great 
oppression ; and in 1677, having about an acre 
and a half of barley, and a few sheep and lambs, 
he was prosecuted for the tithe in the Hundred 
Court, by Hugh Jones, Impropriator; who, hav- 
ing obtained an execution, took, thi-ough his 
agents, goods at one time, worth £1, 4s. Qd., 
and at another time, 14?. 8d.; and lastly, they 
forced their way into liis sliop, and carried off 
articles, on the same pretended claim, worth 
£10 and upwards. The execution was for 
£3, 10s., treble value : yet in that and the next 
year, H. Jones 'took away goods as just men- 
tioned; worth, in all, about £13. Besides 
which, he sent his clerk most years in the time 
of harvest, and took off as much corn in the 
sheaf as he thought proper. 



On the 30th of 2d month, 1G82, which was a 
year of great persecution in the west of Eng- 
land, Hugh Jones, with J. Weeks, the priest of 
Sennen, and a great rabble of followers, came 
to the house where Friends were peaceably met 
■waiting upon the Lord, and, having broken up 
the meeting, required them all to appear before 
the magistrate the next morning. Thereupon 
Nicholas Jose, as the chief offender, though he 
had not spoken in that meeting, was sent to 
jail, and the rest were fined five shillings each 
for attending an unlawful assembly in a private 
house. The charges in his mittimus were, 
that he was a leader and teacher of divers dis- 
senters from the church, that lie denied the 
taking of an oath to be lawful in any case, and 
that he refused to find sureties for his good be- 
haviour. He was thus again immured with 
twenty other Friends from different parts of the 
county, who had been committed for various 
periods, and under a variety of charges ; and in 
the following year they united in drawing up a 
statement of their suifering case, which was pre- 
sented to Sir Job Charleton, judge of the as- 
sizes. It described tlie sufferings of themselves 
and their families at home in touching terms, 
but proved wholly ineffectual to procure them 
any relief ; on the contrary, the oath being 
again tendered to several of them, they wei'e 
premunired for refusing to take it. Thus they 
continued in confinement till the spring of 1685, 
when they were all set at liberty by a general 
warrant, under the sign-manual of James H. 

IV. y 



It is not surprising that this act of toleration 
should have been regarded, by the many severe 
sufferers, as a vast relief, and hailed as the 
dawn of a brighter day ; they did not stay to 
inquire, neither was it in their power to solve 
the question, from what motives it proceeded. 
It was a great step at least in the right direc- 
tion ; and though short was the reign of the 
monarch who enacted it, and very questionable 
were his designs, yet it was evident that all the 
multiplied sufferings and patient endurance of 
Friends had not been in vain ; their cry was 
heard, oppression was weary and ashamed, and 
liberty of conscience was soon established on a 
broad and permanent basis. It seems only due 
to the quiet but firm instruments through whom 
it was forced upon the ruling powers, to cherish 
in our remembrance the records of their Chris- 
tian unflinching devotedness to suffer for the 
truth, even unto death ; and if any such state- 
ments should feel wearisome tp indifferent read- 
ers, others, it is believed, will find an apok)gy 
for them in the noble firmness of many of these 
early worthies, and the great and beneficial re- 
sults, to this nation and to the world, which 
they largely contributed to produce. From 
this period, happily, they were allowed generally 
to enjoy repose. 

N. Jose was twice married, and left a family. 
His interment is thus recorded — ' Nicholas Jose, 
of the parish of Sennen, our ancient and mini- 
stering Friend, after long and great sufferings 
and imprisonments for the truth's sake, was 



buried at the bui'jing-place of Land's End, the 
16th of the 11th month, 1694-1G95.' 


1657. — In Yorkshire, during this and the three 
preceding years, several Friends were imprisoned 
for being married otherwise than according to 
the form appointed in the Directory; viz., John 
Gatherick, and his wife, twenty-six weeks ; John 
Wallis, and his wife, twelve weeks ; William 
Ermshaw, and his wife ; Simon Rider, and his 
wife, above a year; and Matthew Wightmau, and 
his wife, above six months. — (Besse, vol.ii. p. 69.) 


A MAN of subtle reasoning asked 

A peasant if he knew 
Where was tlie internal evidence 

That proved his Bible true ? 
The terms of disputative art 

Had never reached his ear, 
He laid his hand upon his heart. 

And only answered — uehe. 


It appears to me a great inconsistency, if not 
a great absurdity, to reject immediate revela- 
tion, and yet hold, what no Christian can fail 
to hold, the duty of prayer. The latter sup- 
poses a direct or open communication or chan- 
nel, from man's heart to the Deity ; the former 

y 2 



a direct and open communication from the 
Deity to man's heart. The inconsistency is 
this, that the communication should be open 
one way, and shut or impervious the other! 
The absurdity is, that as the Deity knows the 
want of the heart without being informed, and 
as in many particular cases the heart cannot 
know the will of tlie Deity witliout his will 
being revealed, the presumption would be that 
the communication from the Deity to the heart 
is the more wanted of the two. — Joseph Gurnet 


In 1658, William Vincent, for a demand of only 
fnurpence for tithes, was imprisoned in North- 
ampton low jail, at the suit of Thomas Andrews, 
priest of Wellingborough, above a year, among 
felons, by whom he was much abused, being a 
very weakly man, with sores, and on crutches. 
The priest, his prosecutor, on his miserable case 
being represented to him, refused him mercy. 
— (Besse, vol. i. p. 530.) 


Yonder, upon a throne made of the affections 
of the planters, in the face of an indignant and 
offended God, sits Slavery, horrible as a hag of 
hell. Her face is brass ; her heart is stone ; 
her hand is iron, with which she wrings from 
the multiplied sufferings and labours of the poor 



negroes, the wealth by which she is clothed in 
purple and fine linen, and fareth sumptuously 
everyday; watching, with unslumbering jealousy, 
every ray that would enlighten the darkness of 
her kingdom, and frowning indignantly on every 
finger that would disturb the stability of her 


When Archbishop Fenelon's library was on fire, 
' God be praised,' said he, 'that it is not the 
habitation of some poor man.' — (Buck's Anec- 


' Whereas of late times [Anno 13 and 14mo, 
Car. 2udi] certain persons, under the name of 
Quakers, and other names of separation,* have 
taken up and maintained sundry dangerous 
opinions and tenets, and, among others, that 
the taking of an oath in any case whatever, 
although before a lawful magistrate, is alto- 
gether unlawful! and contrary to the word of 
God, and the said persons do daily refuse to 

* They called themselves ' Friends,' and ' the people ot 

j To wit, to them, as being contrary to the Scriptures. 

y 3 



take an oath, though lawfuUj teudered, whereby 
it often happens that the truth is wholly sup- 
pressed, and the administration of justice much 
obstructed* And whereas the said persons, 
under a pretence of religious worship, do often 
assemble themselves in great numbers in several 
parts of this realm, to the endangering of the 
public peace and safety, and to the terror of the 
people, by maintaining a secret and strict corre- 
spondence among themselves, and, in the mean 
time, separating and dividing themselves from 
the rest of His Majesty's good and loyal sub- 
jects, and from the public congregations and 
usual places of Divine worship : For the redress- 
ing, therefore, and better preventing the many 
mischiefs and dangers' that do and may arise by 
sucli dangerous tenets and such unlawful as- 
semblies, be it enacted ' [Then follow the 

penalties : — five pounds for the first ofifence, ten 
for the second, and imprisonment for three or 
six months, in defect of goods to levy on ; and 
for the third offence, transportation.'] 

I may here remark that the liberty of assem- 
bling in gi'eat numbers for public worship, when 

* Had all this been proveable against them, methinks the 
title should have run, ' An Act for remedying mischiefs and 
dangers that have arisen,' &.C., but it is very improbable, 
from the nature of their pursuits, and their thoroughly 
])eaccable habits, avoiding places of dissipation and loose 
company, that they should be witnesses of much offence 
against the law, beyond their oivn wrongs. If, in respect 
of these, there was a defect of evidence on oath, that was 
their loss and not their crime ; however desirable a remedy 
for it. 



granted, was not, at auy time in that age, nor 
has been since, abused by this people, or made 
conducive to any evil end. And that the separ- 
ating in a religious respect from others, and 
maintaining a strict union and correspondence 
among themselves, are the very characteristics 
of all Dissent and Metliodism ; the exercise of 
which privileges, purchased for them by the 
sacrifice on the part of the Quakers, in their 
measure, of estate, liberty, country, and. In many 
cases, life itself, lias proved not only not danger- 
ous to the public peace and safety, but, on the 
contrary, highly promotive of the spread of 
Christian truth and Christian morals in this 

The real ' mischiefs and dangers ' have lain 
in the tumultuous and arbitrary acts, and evil 
example therein to the people, of those who liave 
interrupted and broken up their quiet gathei'- 
ings ; at which, wlien the officers have been 
shown what they had met about, or have had 
some taste of the doctrine and of the power that 
attended it for themselves, they have sometimes 
chosen to withdraw the force prepared, and 
leave the assembly to finish the engagements of 
the season unmolested. And the real clue to 
these proceedings of the Legislature and the 
magistrate, is still to be found in the ' mischiefs 
and dangers apprehended to their craft by an 
interested and oppressive body of men, exercis- 
ing the office of the (so called Cliristian, but 
in truth rather Levitical) priesthood. — Yorkshire- 




As William Dewsbury was preaching at the 
market-cross at Sedberg, ou a market day, in 
1653, and warning the people to turn from the 
evil of their ways to the grace of God, and to 
the light in their consciences, some rude persons 
endeavoured witli violence to push liim down. 
And setting their backs against the high stone 
cross (not aware, most likely, of its tottering 
condition), with their hands against liim, the 
cross gave way, and, in its fall, broke in pieces. 
George Whitehead was at that time about six- 
teen years of age, liaving been himself convinced 
of the truth of the doctrines preached by Friends 
about a year before, and he relates this occur- 
rence as one which was noticed at the time as 
a remarkable instance of the special providence 
of God attending William Dewsbury in his 
labours ; for, notwithstanding the multitude of 
people that were collected to hear him, not one 
was killed or even injured by the accident. — 
[Life of William Dewsbury, Barclay's Series, 
p. 60.) 


10th Month, 2lst, 1818. — 'About five o'clock 
we set out from Stockliolm for the country re- 
sidence of the King of Sweden, at Rosenthal, 
calling, on our way, to take leave of Julie von 



Blelke (a very interesting, clever person, inti- 
mately acquainted with the Queen of Denmark), 
whom we left in tears. 

' On arriving ^t the King's palace, we sent in 
our cards to Count Engestrom, and, after wait- 
ing some time in one of the apartments, we were 
ushered into another, where several persons be- 
longing to the court were walking about. Our 
friend. Count Rosenblad, kindly came and 
noticed us ; also Anker, the minister for Nor- 
way, and some others. Count Engestrom then 
came and conducted us into an elegant little 
private apartment, where he begged us to sit 
down, and, leaving us for a few minutes, returned 
with the King, who was dressed in military uni- 
form, with stars, crosses, &c. He has a very 
fine countenance, indicating mind and benevol- 
ence, and kindly took us by the hand; no one 
but Count Engestrom was present. Stephen 
Grellett explained to him the motives which 
had induced us to visit his kingdom, and we soon 
entered into free converation. He seemed quite 
one with us on the subject of capital punish- 
ments, and said that he had himself abolished 
the practice of flogging. 

' After standing about a quarter of an hour 
or twenty minutes, he inquired whether we should 
stay two or three days longer ; and, finding that 
this was the case, said he should like to see us 
again the day after to-morrow, when he could 
spare an hour or more. He took leave of us, 
not formally, but with kindness, and even affec- 
tion. We returned to our inn under a feeling 



of reverent tliaiikfuluess, that our great Master 
thus continued to open the way before vis.' 

A few days subsequently, William Allen and 
Stephen Grellett paid another visit by appoint- 
ment to the King of Sweden, which William 
Allen thus describes : — ' In the evening we pre- 
pared everything for our appointed visit ; it was 
trying to our feelings, but I felt a strong evi- 
dence in my own mind that all would be well. 
On our arrival, we waited a little time in the 
antechamber of the palace, and were then con- 
ductefl across a square, and through a long 
suite of apartments, at the end of which was a 
large room, magnificently lighted. Here a 
company was assembled, amongst whom were 
several ladies. Passing through a smaller suite, 
we at length reached a neat little room, with a 
long writing table, which is the King's private 
cabinet. He soon came in, and received us 
very kindly, desiring us to take chairs. Count 
Engestrom was the only person present, as 
before, and we entered into free conversation. 

' The King told us a great deal about the state 
of Norway, and what he had done for that 
country, regretting that there were some things 
in their old constitution which were very hurt- 
ful ; he said the peasants were not represented 
in their government, &c. The subject of the 
address sent to him by the Society of Friends, 
in London, was brought forward, but we could 
not clearly tell whether it had ever reached 
him ; we, however, presented him with a copy, 
and told him that we had ourselves prepared an 



address, wliicli, if he pleased, S. Grellet would 
read to him, to which he readily assented.' 
The following is a copy of the address : — 


' May it please the kixg, — Under, we humbly 
trust, a degree of that gospel love which wishes 
the eternal well-being of all, we have felt it our 
duty to pass through thy dominions, on our way 
to other countries, and to salute those every- 
where who we believe love our Lord Jesus Christ 
in sincerity, whatever may be the form of reli- 
gion which they may profess ; for we know no 
distinction of sect or party, believing that the 
true church is composed of individuals of all 
sects and denominations, who are faithfully en- 
deavouring to know and to perform the Divine 
will concerning them ; these, wherever scattered, 
are united in one head, even Christ, and in the 
fellowship of his gospel, feel that they all are 

' We are deeply convinced that, in proportion 
as the benign spirit of the gospel is submitted 
to in the hearts of men universally, it will lead 
to order, to subordination, and to peace in the 
earth ; for, proceeding from the source of in- 
finite love, it produces nothing but goodwill 
towards the whole human family ; it teaches 
charity for those who differ from us ; and ac- 
cordingly, the true church has been under per- 
secution at times from the earliest ages, but 
has never persecuted. 

' We have been particularly gratified in being 



informed of thy disposition to grant liberty of 
conscience, and indulgence to religious scruples ; 
for as every man must give an account of him- 
self unto God, lie is bound to perform worship 
in the manner which he is convinced, in his own 
mind, is most acceptable in the Divine sight ; 
and we take the liberty to solicit thy kind pro- 
tection of those who, though they may differ in 
sentiment from tlie religion of the country, yet, 
by their lives and conduct, give proof that their 
only object is to preserve a conscience void of 
offence toward God and toward man. It is by 
concentrating all the talent, and all the good 
feeling which exist in the body of the people, 
and directing it to one object — the general good, 
that nations become strong ; and we are sure, 
with thy enlightened mind, it is not necessary' 
for us to dwell on tlie happy effects produced 
by a free toleration, in matters of religion, in 
those countries in which it is enjoyed. 

' In reflecting upon the cai'es and difficulties, 
which must necessarily attend the high station 
in which it has pleased Divine Providence to 
place thee as King of these realms, we have felt 
our minds engaged, in affectionate sympathy, 
earnestly to recommend thee to rely upon tha,t 
grace and good Spirit which, as it is believed in 
and followed, will render us always acceptable 
in the Divine sight. Tliis, 0 King, would assist 
and support thee more powerfully than any mere 
human means, and make thee a happy instru- 
ment to forward that great work which the 
Almighty has in the earth, and which, at the 



present day, is so conspicuously going on in 
different nations in a variety of ways, but tend- 
ing towards the same glorious object — the ad- 
vancement and exaltation of the Redeemer's 
kingdom. Thus would thy throne be established 
in righteousness, supported by the hearts and 
affections of all the wise and the good. ' For 
them who honour me, will I lionour,' saith the 
Lord ! 

' That he, who has so signally made the way 
before thee, may conduct thee by his providence, 
bless all thy virtuous exertions for the good of 
thy people, and finally receive thee into his ever- 
lasting rest, is the earnest desire of 

' Thy sincere and respectful Friends, 

Stephen Grellet, 
William Allen.' 

The King was much gratified and affected by 
the reading of this address. ' He i-emarked 
that the warrior who sought for glory, and those 
whose objects were to aggrandize themselves in 
the world, had their gratification in things ex- 
ternal and transitory, while those who went 
about doing good, enduring fatigues, and sub- 
mitting to many privations and difficulties for 
that purpose, had a much richer reward in the 
inward satisfaction of their own minds. 

We spoke of tlie Friends in Norway, and he 
told us that the affair of marriage had been 
before the council, and it was concluded that, 
provided it was performed after the manner of 
Friends, and registered, it should be lawful, and 

IV. z 



that he would protect not oulj the Friends there 
at present, but those who miglit join them in 
future. He said, ' Your Friends cannot avenge 
themselves ; all that their principles permit is, 
if possible, to parry the blows that may be aimed 
at them, but they cannot otherwise defend 
themselves ; they, therefore, have a double claim 
to protection,' and this, he assured us, they 
should have. 

We felt so sweetly the power of Divine good- 
ness over us all, that we were quite at our ease, 
and way opened to tell the King that one of our 
Friends, residing at Christiana, who had accom- 
panied us here, and been very useful as an in- 
terpreter, had a great desire to see him. He 
ordered him to be sent for directly, and Enoch 
Jacobson was at length brought in ; the King 
received him very graciously, and spoke kindly 
and familiarly to him, Count Engestrom inter- 
preting. We then presented the King with some 
books, which he received with marked satis- 
faction, and he regretted that his son was not 

The conference lasted above an hour, when 
we took leave in a manner which I .shall never 
forget. While I was holding the King's hand, 
in the love which I felt for him, I expressed 
my desire that the Lord would bless and pre- 
serve him. It seemed to go to his heart, and 
he presented his cheek for me to kiss, first one, 
then the other ; he took the same affection- 
ate leave of dear Stephen, and also of Enoch, 
and commended himself to our prayers. This 



was a highly interesting opportunity, and it 
was, indeed, the crown to our labours at this 

Here, as at Rosenthal, we felt the precious 
influence of that power wliich, in every place, 
had set an open door before us, and we could 
only, in deep humility, say, ' It is the Lord's 
doing, and marvellous in our eyes.'— {Life of 
William Allen.) 


' There were in these times,' says Besse, ' some 
men advanced to the office of magistrate, so 
extremely fond of personal homage as to pro- 
secute and imprison for the omission of that 
which no law required.' He proceeds to give in- 
stances of this intolerance (which indeed abound 
in his volumes), for the present, in the conduct 
of two personages — William Fines [Fieniies], 
otherwise called Lord Say, and Sir William 
Waller, at Stanton- Harcourt. ' So furious a 
zealot against the Quakers was this Lord Say, 
that, for no other cause than their being such, 
he arbitrarily and illegally forced Simon Thomp- 
son and John Parsons, two of his tenants, out of 
their houses, had their goods thrown into the 
street, and obliged them, tlieir wives and seven 
children, to lie in the streets three weeks, in a 
cold wet season, with much damage to their 

It is very justly remarked by the author of 
Suferings, that the injuries he specifies were 

z 2 



done to the parties for the omissioa of that 
tvhich no law required; he might have added, and 
which the gospel prohibits to Christians, to wit, a 
servile and flattering behaviour to the great, or 
to persons in office. See James ii. 1-13. 

I am sorry to be obliged to add, to the cata- 
logue of sufferings, the treatment of the Friends 
of that time by the students at the universities of 
Oxford and Cambridge; which was so brutal, 
and in every way so outrageous, especially when 
they found them assembled for worship, that I 
shall not assume the tone of aggravation by 
specifying the acts, but simply refer the reader 
to the Sufferings, vol. i., under Oxfordshire, 
1658, Cambridgeshire, 1658-59; and (if he in- 
cline then to proceed to a lower date) to Story's 
Journal, which indeed gives both sides of the 
case, exhibiting instances of good behaviour also. 


' You teach,' said he to Rabbi Joshua, ' that 
your God is everywhere, and boast that he re- 
sides among your nation ; I should like to see 
him.' ' God's presence is, indeed, everywhere,' 
replied Joshua, ' but he cannot be seen ; no 
mortal eye can behold his glory.' The emperor 
persisted. 'Well,' said Joshua, 'let us try first 
to look at one of his ambassadors.' Trajau 
consented. The Rabbi led him into the open 
air at noon-day, and bade him look at the sun. 
' I cannot,' said Trajan, ' the light dazzles me.' 



' Thou art unable,' said Joshua, 'to endure the 
light of his creatures ; how canst thou expect 
to behold the resplendent glory of the Creator ? 
The sight would annihilate thee.' 

How wond'rous gi-eat, how glorious bright, 

Must our Creator be, 
Who dwells ainiilst the dazzling light 

Of vast infinity I 


In the year 1675, William Ednaundson being 
in Barbadoes, in the course of his ministry, and 
holding meetings with the negroes, complaint 
was made to the Governor, Sir Jonathan At- 
kins, that he was a Jesuit come out of Ireland, 
pretending to be a Quaker, and to make the 
negroes Christians, but would make them rebels; 
on which the Governor was about to send a 
warrant for his apprehension. Hearing of this, 
he took a friend with him, and went to the Gov- 
ernor before the warrant came. The Governor 
used high words, and threatened what he would 
do, sending for his marshal. ' In the mean 
time, however,' W. E. says, ' we had much dis- 
course ; and, among other things, he told me 
he was informed that / ivas making the negroes 
Christians, and ivould make them rebel and cut 
their throats. I told him it was a good work to 
bring them to the knowledge of God and Christ 
Jesus, and to believe in liim that died" for them, 
and for all men : and that that would keep them 




from rebelling or cutting any man's throat : but 
if tliey did rebel, and cut their throats (as he 
said), it would be through their own doings, in 
keeping them in ignorance and under oppres- 
sion: giving them liberty to be common with 
women (like beasts), and, on the other li,and, 
starving them for want of meat and clothes 
convenient: so giving them liberty in that which 
God restrained, and restraining them in that 
which God allowed and afforded to all men, 
which was meat and clothes.' 

This defence of his conduct weighed so much 
with the Governor, that, when the marshal came, 
he told him he thought to have committed him 
to prison, but his mind was altered ; and he 
appeal's to have been kind to this Friend after- 


Kent, 1676. — Jos. Oxglet was committed to 
prison for tithes at the suit of William Jordan, 
priest. Also Jeremy Warner was imprisoned 
for refusing to pay tithes, at the suit of Richard 
Austin, impropriator. His case was somewhat 
peculiar, he being sued for the tithe of a crop 
of corn, the whole ofivhich loas less than the seed 
from which it sprung. The oppression of tithe 
is great when it sweeps away, as it often does, 
the farmer's whole profit ; but that oppression 
is aggravated when added to the loss sustained 
without it. — [From Besse's Sufferings, &c.) 




On the 19th of September, 1676, Nicholas Hom- 
wood died in Maidstone jail, after eleven years' 
imprisonment for tithes. 

As this Friend was not only a martyr to the 
cause in the ordinary acceptation of the word, 
but likewise a witness against it in print, I shall 
liere insert the part in prose (for it is accom- 
panied with a page of verse, of which the mat- 
ter is superior to the style), of his publication. 
It may serve, in addition to that already pub- 
lished of the kind, to evince the conscientious 
feeling and full persuasion of duty, under which 
our ancient Friends bore their testimony — 

A Word of Counsel, or a Warning to all Young 
convinced Friends, and others whom it may con- 
cern, that are called forth to bear a Testimony 
for the Lord in the case of Tithe. Which may 
also serve for Answer to a late Pamphlet, entitled 
The Lawfulness of Tithes, by W. J., as it con- 
cerns the Quaker's conscience in the case ; the 
allegations thereof, for the Divine Right of Tithes, 
being sufficiently confuted in divers treatises, 
not taken notice of in the said Pamphlet. 
Printed in the year 1675. 

' For the priesthood being changed, there is 
made of necessity a change also of the law ' 
(Heb. vii. 12). ' Now, of the things which we 
have spoken, this is the sura, we have an high- 
priest, who is set on the right hand of the throne 
of the Majesty in the heavens ; a minister of 
the sanctuary and of the true tabernacle, which 



the Lord hath pitched, and not man ' (Heb. 
viii. 1, 2). 

Do not flee from the cross, lest tliou miss of 
the crown ; and have a care that the enemy 
and adversary- of thy soul do not betray thee ; 
he will attempt and present many things to tliy 
view, to hinder thee from the work thou art 
called to : therefore stand upon thy watch dili- 
gently, and resist liim, and keep to that which 
makes manifest, which is light, lest thou be be- 
guiled (as I was) by that subtle serpent, which 
is called the devil and Satan. 

When the Lord God, by the light of his Son 
Jesus Christ, had made it manifest to me that 
tithe was not to be paid ; and that they that 
paid tithe, and they that took tithe, denied 
Christ, as to the end of his coming, who hath 
put an end to all shadows whatsoever ; for he is 
tlie substance ; and where the substance, Christ 
Jesus, is truly witnessed, all shadows flee away ; 
so there was life and death, good and evil, set 
before me ; if I joined to that which is good, 
happiness would attend me ; but if to that which 
is evil, I should lose my reward. And in these 
my meditations tlie enemy presents himself, and 
appears in this manner. Hath God set good and 
evil before thee, and hath he showed to thee, 
that they that pay tithe therein deny Christ to 
be come ? Is it not said likewise, he that doth 
not provide for his family is worse than an infi- 
del ? And thou hast many children, and a 
great family to look after ; if thou deniest tithe, 
thou wilt be cast into prison ; and what then 



will become of thy children ? They must suffer. 
This was the voice of the serpent to me ; and I, 
not standing in the cross, but hearkening to it, 
was beguiled and betrayed ; for then the consult- 
ing part got up, and led me into many reason- 
ings and questionings, and so [I] lost my con- 
dition, and fell under the power of the enemy, 
which deceived me, and I was deceived, and 
paid tithe that year, but I desire it may be a 
warning to all whose hearts the Lord hath 
opened in any measure concerning tithe, and 
for their sake is this given forth — 0 ! do not 
consult with flesh and blood, neitlier let the 
reasoning part get up ; but stand in the cross, 
and keep to the first motion, that openeth the 
thing to thee, lest the enemy prevail, and so 
bring thee into terrible bondage and slavery, as 
he did me ; for in so doing, I did greatly in- 
crease the anger of the Loi-d against me, and 
the terrors of the Almighty took hold of me, 
which terribly shook the earth, insomuch that 
when it was morning, I longed for night ; and 
when night hath come, I desired morning ; and 
the fire of the Lord's indignation was kindled 
within me. My exercise was very groat, and a 
bitter cup was my portion, which was a just re- 
compence of reward. And thus it was with me 
for many months, and a sore and grievous travail 
I went under for this my disobedience ; and in 
this my great distress, I sought the Lord with 
many tears, and desired, that he would not cut 
off my life in this condition ; if he did, I should 
be of all men most miserable. And in this my 



great distress and bowed-dowu conditlou, I 
begged of the Lord that he would give me an- 
other opportunity, and try me once more ; pro- 
mising, that I would give up all for the Truth's 
sake, and be faithful to the death, so that I 
might enjoy the immortal crown of life. Wait- 
ing low in this condition, in meekness of spirit, 
the Lord heard me, and had compassion of his 
own, which then breathed after him, and gave 
me my desire, that was, another opportunity, 
that I might bear my testimony against that 
ever-to-be-denied thing of tithe. So the time 
came, and I was freely given up, not looking 
out at any thing, though my besetments were 
many, by that old serpent which at first drew 
my mind out, but the great God gave me power, 
as my eye was kept single to him, against all 
the wiles of the enemy, which were many, both 
within and without. The presence of the Lord 
was daily with me, and his powerful arm did 
mightily uphold me, although he suffered the 
enemy to try me, and cast me into prison, 
where I have been this ten years. It seems to be 
but as a little time, by reason of that endless 
love and life of God, which he hath manifested 
unto me in his Son, Christ Jesus ; who hath re- 
freshed my soul day by day, ever since that good 
resolution was taken up by me, to give up all 
for the truth's sake. Six troubles liath the Lord - 
delivered me out of, and in seven he will not 
leave me ; although my exercises have been 
many, it hath been for the trial of my faith and 
obedience to God. Happy was the day that 



ever I was cast into prison ; I have no cause to 
repent ; praises endless to the Lord God for 
evermore, saith my soul ; although the adver- 
sary of my soul presented lieavy things to my 
view, what would become of my children, if I 
were cast into prison ; as if there would have 
been a want ? But I have seen, by tlie light of 
Christ, that he was a lying serpent; for the Lord 
God hath, ever since that day that my face was 
turned Zion-ward, blessed and preserved me and 
mine, and hath given us all things necessary for 
a comfortable being in this life. And, therefore, 
none be discouraged, nor look out at anything 
without ; but give up all in true obedience to 
the Lord ; let not these outward perishing things 
hinder better things to come ; for of a truth God 
is with us who are faithful, and it is his cause 
we stand for and suffer for, who will uphold and 
carry through to the end all those who are freely 
given up in this matter, against all their op- 
posers and persecutors whatsoever ; this is my 
testimony, and this I am a witness of in mea- 
sure. Happy are all those who suffer for very 
conscience and Christ's sake, they that suffer 
for Christ's sake shall assuredly reign with him. 

Therefore, dear B'rieuds, I leave it upon you 
all, who ai-e any ways concerned in this matter, 
that there be no under-hand nor double-dealing, 
in any measure ; for that wounds tlie life of 
those whose testimony stands firm, and strength- 
eneth the hands of the enemy ; and this I have 
felt, in some measure, since I have been a 
prisoner, which constrains me thus to write ; 



therefore, be careful for time to come, and ease 
me of mj burden, and bear a faithful and public 
testimony against that spirit of Antichrist, which 
rules in the hearts of the children of disobe- 
dience. I say, fall not under anything which 
dishonoureth the Lord God ; and have a care of 
grieving his people ; but be valiant for the truth 
upon earth, and great will be your reward. 

But happily some may say, mine is to an im- 
propriator, and therefore I cannot see so clearly 
to the end of it as to the priest. 

My Friend, this was my state and condition 
for some time ; I paid to the priest and impro- 
priator, and the priest I could, and did deny, 
some time before I could see clearly to the end 
of the other, by reason of the vail that then 
covered my heai't, and darkened my understand- 
ing, so that I could not see clearly to the end 
of those things which Christ had put an end 
unto ; but as I waited low in the light of Christ, 
the Son of God, the vail was taken off, and then 
I saw clearly and perfectly the one was to be 
denied as well as the other ; and if I paid the 
impropriator, I might as well pay the priest ; 
for the ground is one in both, it is as really tithe 
to the impropriator as to the priest ; and it was 
tithe I could not uphold, and great cause I had 
for it, because in so doing I denied the Lord of 
life ; and Christ saitli — ' He that denieth me be- 
fore men, him will I deny before my Father 
which is in heaven.' Therefore I advise all 
Friends, that they stand clear in this thing ; 
for such as you sow, such must you reap. And 



this Is my testimony for the Lord God, they that 
uphold any one [either], are guilty of both. 

By one who is a lover of the truth, and made 
willing to suifer for the same, and to follow the 
Lamb whithersoever he goeth. 

Nicholas Homwood. 

From the King's Bench Prison, 
in the 9<A month, 1675. 



A 11 mortal men that live must surely die, ' 

B ut how, or when, is hid from human eye ; 

C onsider then thy few uncertain days, 

D elay no longer to amend thy ways ; 

E ngage thy heart to serve the Lord in love, 

F or all his ways the ways of comfort prove ; 

G rant to thyseWno time for vain delight, 

H ate all that's wrong, and love to do the right ; 

I n all thou ever dost, act in God's fear, 

K cep still the thoughts of death and judgment near 

L earn to avoid what thou believ'st is sin, 

M ind what reproves or justifies within ; 

N o act is good which doth disturb tliy peace, 

O r can be bad that makes true joy increase. 

P revent the loss of time, be timely wise ; 

Q, uench not the Spirit, all its teachings prize ; 

R ely alone upon that power, that can 

S ubdue the pride and haughty looks of man ; 

T his heavenly power is that which sanctifies 

U nto the Lord the heart that's truly wise ; 

W ait for it then, in it such wisdom is, 

X enophon's wisdom folly was to this ; 

Y ea, this, if 'tis obeyed, will give the youth 

Z eal for the I^ord, and lead unto all truth. 

IV. 2 A 




DcRiNG the autumn of 1830, four Friends made 
a visit to some families in Canada, wiien the 
following interesting instance of Divine inter- 
position in the preservation of a Friend, his wife, 
and eight children, from starvation, was related 
to them bj a member of that familj. 

In the early settlement of the country, a few 
families removed from Pennsylvania, and, pass- 
ing through a wilderness of considerable extent, 
settled nearly thirty miles west of Buifalo. They 
cleared a small tract of land, and raised grain 
for their own use. In the fall of the year, a 
number of famiUes joined them, depending for 
sustenance on the crops of those who had pre- 
ceded them ; but, in consequence of so large an 
addition to their settlement, their provisions 
failed ; and the severity of the. weather, in addi- 
tion to the great depth of the snow, rendered 
travelling impracticable. Their only resource 
was to procure slippy elm, and bass-wood, of 
which they made a kind of jelly, and subsisted 
upon it for some time, hoping that an early 
spring would afford relief But soon their de- 
pendence on this food failed ; for when the sap 
began to rise, instead of affording them nourish- 
ment, it caused sickness. In this state of trial 
and dismay, with no prospect before them but 
that of death, the family assembled, and while 
their minds were turned to him who careth for 
the sparrows, and heareth the young ravens 
when they cry for food, a pigeon was discovered 



to alight on a tree near the door, was taken by 
one of the family, and being prepared by the 
mother, supplied them with sustenance for that 
day. For fourteen successive days they were 
fed every morning by a pigeon in the same re- 
markable manner. On the 15th, this supply 
ceased, and one of the little boys, already weak- 
ened by the scantiness of his portion, lay in bed, 
anxiously watching for their daily visitant, and 
when the time passed by that it had usually 
made its appearance, he looked to his mother, 
and asked if the Great Spirit was offended, that 
he did not send another pigeon. Again it 
seemed to this poor family that death was in- 
evitable ; but the man, on going out to a stream 
of water, found the ice was beginning to give 
way, and caught some fish, which, with the sap, 
which soon commenced to flow from the maple 
trees, preserved their lives. 

The relation was given by one of the family, 
who is now a valuable member of the Society 
of Friends. — {Bradford Tract.) 


' See that thou copy no man save in the matter of faithful- 
ness.' — William Penn. 

Listen not when men shall tell thee here is work for thee 
to do. 

There thy field of labour lieth, and the good thou should'st 
])ursue ; 

Idle one when all are busy, bound, yet longing to arise, 
Follow thou no mortal guidance, though it come in prophet 

While the cloud is on thy spirit and the mist is o'er thy eyes. 

2 A 2 


Not the stars above us shining, in creation's perfect plan, 
Have their places marked more surely than the living soul 
of man ; 

And the laws are not more changeless, which direct their 
daily course, 

Than the lines of light that issue from our being's radiant 

To restrain the soul's outgoings with an ever gentle force. 

Watch and wait, and, as at Bethel, where of old the dreamer 

Sleep-bound on his stony piOow, God himself will set thy 

Wanderer, without a foothold in illimitable space. 
With the first step simply taken on thy heaven-appointed 

Thou wilt know the noiseless sliding of a stone into its place. 

Up, then, with the break of morning, while upon thy lifted 

Clear before thee, rounds of duty one above another rise ; 
On the steps let down from heaven, rugged though they 

seem and hard, 
Pilgrims from all lands will meet thee, silver-haired and 


And the young, in meekness lovely, shielded by an angel 

With a grasp the worldling feels not, by a touch he cannot 

Holy joy tlieir bosoms thrilling, they will greet and welcome 
thee ; 

With their hymns of glad thanksgiving that thy mission is 

That the Father's kingdom cometh, that his will on earth 
is done, 

Mingleth soft tliy heart's ' Eureka ' — peace ! the Father's 
boon is won. 

God hath many aims to compass, many messages to send, 
And his instruments are fitted each to some distinctive 
end ; 


Earth is full of groaning spirits, hearts that wear a galling 

Minds, designed for noble uses, bondaged to the lust of gain ; 
Souls, once beautiful in whiteness, crimsoned with corrup- 
tion's stain. 

Through earth's wrong, and woe, and evil, sometimes seeing, 

sometimes blind. 
Ever must the homeward pathway of the humble Christian 

wind ; 

Stooping over sin and sorrow, watching by the couch of pain, 
Holy promises outi)ouring, gi-ateful as the summer rain. 
To the heart whose hope had withered never to revive again. 

Dark, jierplexing questions cross him, meet him as he on- 
ward goes. 

Why a God of love and mercy should pennit life's ills and 
woes ? 

Why the good should strive and differ? If his love be over 

Why the guiltless and the guilty by the same dread stroke 
should fall ? 

Wliy the haughty arm of power should meek innocence 
enthrall ? 

Why with joy is sorrow walking, hand in hand, and side by 

Sparing not the sad and lowly, breaking in on strength and 
pride ? 

Grief and gladness touch each other, pass each other in the 
street ; 

Why should trains of sabled mourners, yoimg and happy 
lovers meet. 

Chilling on their lips the whisper, ' Life is good, and love is 
sweet *' 

As the earnest soul advances, step by step, to higher ground. 
Simple faith and steady patience slowly bring the answers 
round ; 

Then it moves serenely forward, trusting less to reason's 

Satisfied with faith's revealings of a broad paternal plan 
AVhich, by mutual dependence, fraternizes man and man. 

2 A 3 


Down existence one is sailing, by fair breezes borne along, 
Trilling, on life's solemn voyage, evermore a raen-y song ; 
What to him is that wrapt thinker, wearing out the night 
in toil, 

Gleaning, for the thankless future, from the past, a golden 

But an idle, useless dreamer, but a curaberer of the soil? 

Say we these can never mingle ? soon the student's cheek 
shall pale, 

And the o'ertasked brain shall weary, and the soul-lit eye 
shall fail ? 

Whose bright face Iiis sick room lighteth, with hope's lan- 
guage all a-glow ? 

Whose kind hand the hair is smoothing backward from his 
burning brow ? 

Ah ! his careless-hearted neighbour is a gentle brother now. 

There a proud man coldly gazes on a meek, forgiving face, 
Once he loved her, but ambition crept into affection's place ; 
From her Christian garb unspotted turns he now his scorn- 
ful eye, 

But on his last lowly pillow when the great man comes to lie. 
He will long to hear the rustle of her white robe passing by. 

Thus are God's ways vindicated ; and at length wc slowly 

As our needs dispel our blunders, some faint glimpses of the 

Which connects the earth with heaven, right with wrong, 

and good with ill. 
Links in one harmonious movement, slowly learn we to fulfil 
Our appointed march in concert with hLs manifested will ! 
Philadelphia, Uth Month, 28th, 1848. 


Had a soldier in his army who bore his name, 
but was a great coward. ' Either change your 
name,' said Alexander to him, ' or learn to be 



courageous.' So it may be said to many pro- 
fessors of religion. Either relinquish the name 
of Christian, or act according to the dictates of 
the gospel. 

So let our lips and lives express, 
The holy gospel we profess ; 
So let our works and virtues shine 
To prove the doctrine all Divine. 


Eldest son of William Penn, was a young man 
about twenty-one years of age. For half a year 
before it pleased the Lord to visit him with 
weakness, he grew more retired, and much dis- 
engaged from youthful delights, showing a re- 
markable tenderness in meetings, even when 
they were silent ; but when he saw his recovery 
doubtful, he turned his mind and meditations 
more apparently towards the Lord ; often pray- 
ing with fervency to the Lord, and uttering 
many thankful expressions and praises to him, 
in a deep and sensible manner, saying one day, 
' I am resigned to what God pleaseth ; he knows 
what is best; I would live if it pleased him, that 
I might serve hira ; but, O Lord, not my will, 
but thy will be done.' One speaking to him of 
the things of this world, he answered, ' My eye 
looks another way, where the truest pleasure is.' 
Another time, his father going to a meeting, at 
parting he said, ' Remember me, my dear father, 
before the Lord. Though I cannot go to meet- 
ings, yet have I many good meetings ; the Lord 



comes in upon my spirit ; I have heavenly meet- 
ings with him by myself ; ' with more to the same 
purpose, expressing his sentiments of the vanity 
of this -workl, and of his entering into secret 
covenant with the Lord, and his thankfulness 
for the Lord's preservation and goodness to him. 
Fixing his eyes upon his sister, he took her by 
the hand, saying, ' Look to good things ; poor 
child, there is no comfort without it. One drop 
of the love of God is worth more than all the 
world ; I know it, I have tasted it, I have felt 
as much, or more, of the love of God in this 
weakness, than in all my life before.' 

Taking something one night in bed, just be- 
fore his going to rest, he sat up, and reverently 
prayed thus ; 'O Lord God, thou whose Son said 
to his disciples, "Whatever ye ask in my name 
ye shall receive ; " I pray thee, in his name, 
bless this to me this night, and give me rest, if 
it be thy blessed will, 0 Lord.' And accord- 
ingly he had a very comfoi-table night, of which 
he took thankful notice the next day. At another 
time he expressed his desire to serve the Lord, 
if he lived. One day saying thus, ' I am resolved 
I will have such a thing done,' immediately he 
said, with much contrition, ' O Lord, forgive me 
that irreverent and hasty expression ; I am a 
poor weak creature, and live by thee, and there- 
fore I should have said, If it pleaseth thee that 
I live, I intend to do so or so ; Lord, forgive my 
rash expression.' He desired his mother-in-law 
not to trouble herself for such a poor creature 
as he ; and to pray for liim, that he might live 


and employ his time more in the Lord's service. 
And to his brother he said, looking awfully upon 
him, ' Be a good boy, and know there is a God, 
a great and mighty God, who is a rewarder of 
the righteous, and so he is of the wicked ; but 
their rewards are not the same. Beware of idle 
company, and love good company, and good 
Friends, and the Lord will bless thee. I have 
seen good things for thee since my sickness, if 
thou dost but fear the Lord ; and if I should not 
live, remember what I say when I am dead and 
gone ; ' with many more religious expressions. 
Taking his leave of his father, brother, and 
sister, he said, ' Come life, come death, I am 
resigned. O ! the love of God overcomes my 
soul.' Feeling himself decline, and not being 
able to bring up the matter that was in his 
throat, the doctor was sent for ; but so soon as 
he came, he said, ' Let my father speak to the 
doctor, and I will go asleep ; ' which he did, and 
awoke no more. 

He died the 10th of the second month, 1696. 
His father wrote some account of him, which is 
to be seen in his works. 


June 1658, three Friends, of Findon, in North- 
amptonshire, for refusing to take an oath at a 
court leet, were fined 20s. each, and underwent, 
in consequence, a seizure and loss of goods to 
the value of £56, 2s. 6c?.— (Besse.) 




Of this humane communitj, it is but just to 
say, that they were the only Europeans in the 
New World who always treated the Indians with 
probity like their own, and with kindness cal- 
culated to do honour to the faith they professed. 
I speak of them now in their collective capacity. 
They too are the only people that in a temperate, 
judicious (and I trust successful), manner, have 
endeavoured to convert the Indians to Chris- 
tianity. — (Mrs. Grant's Memoirs of an American 
Lady, vol. ii. p. 33G.) 


Jamaica, 1840. 

In the afternoon we reached Spanish Town. An 
Anti-slavery Convention of delegates from the 
whole island, met the next morning, and a public 
meeting was held in the evening in the Baptist 
chapel, attended by about 2000 persons, the 
main body of it consisting of lately emancipated 
slaves. It was a meeting of amazing interest. 
Imagine a platform in the capital of Jamaica, 
the chair occupied by a great planter, a member 
of the Legislative Council, suiTOunded by Mis- 
sionaries of several denominations, members of 
the Established Church, some of the Society 
of Friends, and planters of large property, who 
lately possessed numerous slaves, and who now 
rejoice in the change from Slavery to Freedom. 



Before us, in the body of the chapel and the 
spacious galleries, a dense crowd of men and 
women of all colours, admirably attired, and 
behind the platform, tier upon tier of intelligent 
black men, from the neighbouring properties, 
who had come in troops to enjoy tlie pleasures 
of the evening, and respond to the observations 
that pleased them. Some of the speeches were 
excellent, particularly those of Capt. Stuart, 
Wra. Knibb, John Clarke ; and J. J. Gurney's 
pointed address to the black people fixed their 
attention deeply. They are a very shrewd 



I HAD wandered among the luxuriant beauties 
of a romantic country, till fatigue induced me 
to seek for rest; and descending the hill from 
which I had viewed as fair a landscape as ever 
poet described, or painter delineated, I sat down 
on a grassy bank, near the cool waters of a 
majestic river, which fertilizes an extensive val- 
ley. During my walk, my thoughts had been 
naturally turned from the contemplation of the 
works of nature, to meditation on the power of 
that Being who created and who upholds them ; 
and at length I became involved in the intricate 
mazes which sophisticated minds have formed 
of Natural and Revealed lleligion. 

My mind was wearied no less than my body ; 
and whether sleep closed my eyes, or whether 



I was merely unconscious of everything around 
me, I am unable to determine ; but a vision of 
brightness and beauty soon appeared before me. 

T^o female figures, arrayed in light and flow- 
ing drapery of brilliant whiteness, met in the 
flowery meadow, and saluted each other with 
apparent cordiality and pleasure. I gazed upon 
them with a feeling of awe and delight, and my 
curiosity respecting their names was no sooner 
excited, than some internal evidence assured 
me that the one was Natural, the other Revealed 

The first was tall, and perfectly graceful in 
form, and dignified in demeanour ; but her dig- 
nity approached the confines of pride. Her 
smooth and polished forehead was large and 
beaming, and her dark and waving tresses flowed 
with an air of wild profusion over her beautiful 
neck and shoulders. Iler dark eyes wei-e pierc- 
ing as those of the eagle, and their brightness 
would liave been insufferable, but for the long 
and thick fringe which surrounded them, and 
the look of calm reflection produced by her 
superbly-arched and unruflfied eye-brows. Her 
features resembled those of the finest Grecian 
statue ; her cheeks and lips glowed with the 
bloom of triumph, and in her smile was an ex- 
pression of mingled pride and sweetness. 

The second figure was less commanding in 
stature, but her delicate form was modelled with 
perfect symmetry, and her prevailing attitude 
was that of dignified submission and persuasive 
love. Her light-brown hair was thick and clus- 



tering, "but Its rich and shining locks were con- 
fined by a simple band of the softest hue of 
the summer rose. Her forehead was high and 
fair, and the light which fell upon it was re- 
flected in chastened lustre. The arch of her 
eje-brows was delicately defined, and the gentle 
yet brilliant blue eyes that beamed beneath 
them, were expressive of Divine intelligence and 
uninterrupted sincerity. Her smile was that 
of meekness and pure benevolence, and the glow 
of her cheeks seemed to be imparted by the 
happiness of her mind. 

' My sistei',' said she, ' I rejoice to meet thee, 
for my love towards thee is perpetually increas- 
ing.' Her sister viewed her with complacent 
regard, but with little warmth of feeling ; and 
in her scrutinizing glance I thought I perceived 
a sentiment of pity, not wholly unmingled with 

' Sister,' said Natural Religion, ' thou art wel- 
come to my sight in this glorious season of ter- 
restrial beauty ; but why dost thou carry in thy 
hand that which thou callest the Book of Truth, 
when the volume of Nature is spread open be- 
fore thee ?' ' This volume,' said Revealed Re- 
ligion, ' contains a transcript of the will of him 
who can be comprehended by those only whose 
understandings are illuminated by Divine truth.' 

' To comprehend the Deity,' said her sister, 
' is beyond the reach of man's limited capacity ; 
but my duty and my delight consist in lead- 
ing the children of men to love and adore the 
Creator by the investigation of his works. I 



accompany them to the mountains which have 
resisted the war of elements for ages, and which 
have ever mocked the levelling hand of man ; 
here, on the giddj verge of the rugged crag, I 
point to the azure sky and the fleecy clouds 
above them ; to the roaring cataract that foams 
below*; to the widely spreading landscape that 
glows around ; and then, by a resistless impulse 
they worship the framer of this beautiful scene, 
which has imparted to their minds a conviction 
of his gi-eatness and power. In the morning, I 
conduct them over the dewy hills to greet the 
glorious sun at his rising ; in the evening, I 
point their view to the host of heaven in its 
brightness; their souls glow with rapture as 
they gaze, and they pant for a nearer com- 
munion with the author of these sublime won- 
ders. In the heat of noon, I walk with them 
in the forest, where varieties of trees rear their 
majestic forms, whose light leaves, in all their 
diversified tints and shapes, whisper to man, 
" the hand that made us is Divine!" In every 
flower, in every shrub, in all the forms of ani- 
mated life, I show them the inimitable skill of the 
Almighty Artist : and on the shore of the billowy 
ocean I see them confounded by its immensity, 
and, in the fullness of their admiration, their 
hearts ofl'er the tribute of adoration and praise 
to the eternal cause of glory and of beauty. To 
the more philosophical of my votaries, I open 
an inexhaustible treasure of delight. They rea- 
son on the construction of mind and matter, and 
reduce all tangible objects to their elements ; 



they watcli the lightning as it bursts from the 
cloud, and listen to the pealing thunder; they 
no longer fancy that they hear in it the rolling 
of the chariot-wheels of their heavenly Sovereign, 
but they feel equal awe and astonishment at his 
might and majesty, because they trace in this, 
and in all the operations of nature, an infinity 
of thought and wisdom ; they are conscious of 
their own lowliness in comparison with his Di- 
vine magnificence, yet they reverence their 
minds as emanations of his glory, and offer at 
his footstool the homage which rational piety 

Here Natural Religion closed her lips, and 
I should have deeply regretted that the sweet 
accents of her musical voice had ceased, had 
not her sister's, equally melodious, though dif- 
ferently toned, now fallen on my ear. She had 
listened with profound atteutiou, yet her eyes 
had alternately wandered from the lovely face 
of her sister, to the blue and cloudless sky ; and 
she stood with her form more and more erect, 
and with parted lips, as if she were inhaling the 
ethereal spirit. ° 

' Sister,' said she, 'I acknowledge that thou 
hast taught mankind to look from earth to 
heaven ; thou hast taught them to view the 
glorious frame of nature as the offspring of 
omnipotence and boundless goodness alone ; their 
thanksgiving and adoration are due. His wor- 
ship thou knowest it is my effort to promote, 
and my enlightened votaries have been intim- 
ately acquainted with the greatest and most 

2 D 2 



minute of the works of God ; and have adored 
Him with the deepest veneration ; but I have 
been commissioned to acquaint them with the 
will of Him who calls for the sacrifice of man's 
heart ; who claims not only the admiration of 
His rational creatures, but also their willing 
obedience to His law, which is set before them 
in this volume of everlasting truth. I have also 
opened to their view a glimpse of eternal blessed- 
ness, which awaits the humble followers of that 
Being, who gave the brightest example the world 
ever saw of perfect humility, unconquerable for- 
bearance, disinterested love, and patient sub- 
mission to sufferings, at which the nature of 
man revolts. I profess not to lead the children 
of men through a path ever blooming with 
flowers ; but the instruction which I communi- 
cate to them enables them to pursue the road 
even when it is toilsome and dreary ; and I in- 
sure them peace of mind during their journey, 
and endless felicity at its close. By some of 
thy followers, I have been accused of extorting 
from my adherents a blind faith in mysteries 
which their understandings are unable to fathom. 
I do, indeed, call upon them to acknowledge that 
they are fallen from a state of original purity, 
and that it is not in their own power to cleanse 
the soul from the pollution of sin, and render it 
sufficiently holy to unite for ever with the source 
of infinite purity and perfection, and when they 
have admitted this point, I show them that 
there is a fountain of living water that can 
cleanse from every stain ; that there is a robe of 



righteousness which shall clothe the trembling 
soul, when stripped of its polluted garments. 
It is not for me to explain to the feeble in- 
tellect of man how the eternal spirit of Godhead 
could exist in a human form ; but I demand from 
my followers a firm belief in this fact, which has 
been proved by incontrovertible miracles ; and 
on this belief I found their participation in the 
atonement which was made for the sins of all 
mankind. And now, my sister, permit me with 
all humility to show thee, that my influence over 
man in his earthly career is superior to thine. 
Thou canst, indeed, exalt the soul for a time, 
above the trivial pursuits of life ; but canst thou 
support it under pain and distress, and comfort 
the mourner with unshaken hopes of a blissful 
immortality ? No I it remains for me to soothe 
with the balm of consolation, those who have 
felt the disappointments, the vexations, and the 
afiiictions inseparable from mortality. Even 
some of thy devoted and admiring children have 
turned from thee, and sought my aid to conduct 
them to tlie path which leads to immortal feli- 
city, to which the soul of man is ever aspiring. 
But when death, the king of terrors, who is con- 
templated with dread by all, presents himself to 
their immediate view, it is then that my power 
becomes triumphant ! The pale and emaciated 
victim of disease, worn and oppressed with 
anguish, turns to me for relief, in the wreck of 
every other hope ; and I strengthen him to en- 
dure the afflictions of the body, whicli shall be 
infinitely overbalanced by the joy which awaits 

2 D 3 



his liberated soul. I soften the poignant regret 
of the dying, who see their beds surrounded with 
weeping relatives, by directing their heavy eyes 
to the region where tears and lamentations are 
unknown. I comfort the mourners who are 
separated from their beloved departed friends, 
by the assurance of a reunion in a happier state 
of existence. I could tell thee of thousands who 
have felt my benign influence in calming their 
troubled souls, while shuddering on the brink 
of eternity. I love thee, my sister, because thou 
worshippest the God of the universe ; but I 
lament that thou shouldst endeavour to satisfy 
thy followers, with the limited knowledge they 
may acquire of Him, by the simple contempla- 
tion of His works.' 

Here she closed her address, and a short but 
deep silence succeeded to the music of her voice. 
I observed that whilst she was speaking, the 
penetrating eyes of her sister were sometimes 
fixed upon her face, and sometimes instantane- 
ously bent upon the ground ; and I imagined I 
perceived a blush suffusing the expressive coun- 
tenance of Natural Religion ; but as I was gazing 
upon them, the vision vanished from my sight. 


Ah ! when will that era so glorious arrive. 
When warfare and tumult shall cease ? 

When nation with nation no longer shall strive, 
But dwell with each other in ^leace ? 



A pruning-hook then shall be made of the spear, 
A ploughshare bo formed of the sword, 

The olive its peaceable branches shall rear. 
And earth its abundance afford. 

The wolf with the innocent lamb by its side. 

The leopard along with the kid, 
Together in pastures of peace shall abide. 

Together in harmony feed. 

The din of the battle it then shall be stilled, 

The wicked and faithless shall flee, 
For the earth with the fear of the Lord shall be filled, 

As the waters now cover the sea. 



All men ought to maintain peace, and the 
common offices of humanity and friendship in 
diversity of opinions. — (Locke.) 


Sir Matthew Hale, while a student at Lincoln's 
Inn, neglected his apparel so much, that he was 
once taken, when there was a press for the King's 
service, as a fit person for it. Some that knew 
him coming by, and giving notice who he was, 
the pressmen let him go ; from which time he 
began to be more decent in his appearance. 

Augustus Ca3sar used to wear no other ap- 
parel but such as his wife, his sister, or daugh- 
ter, made him ; and used to say, ' That rich and 
gay clothing was either the ensign of pride, or 
the nurse of luxury.' 




True glorj is that which results from deeds of 
goodness and beneficence ; and false glory, tliat 
which accompanies the actions of great generals 
and commanders — men who have slain countless 
numbers of their fellow-creatures ; it is to ihis 
kind of renown Shakspeare alludes : — 

GJory is like a circle in the water, 

AViiich never ceases to enlarge itself, 

TiU, by broad spreading, it disperse to nought. 


The following narrative contains a few parti- 
culars relative to two brothers, named John and 
Samuel Jones, who were put to death bj the 
insurgents, on the day of the burning of Sculla- 
bogue-barn, in the lawn near it : — 

kSamuel Jones, the jounger of the two, had 
attended the meetings of Friends, and was con- 
sidered to make no other profession of religion. 
But if unconquerable faith and fortitude in the 
hour of extremity could entitle any one to the 
name of martyr, his name and the circumstances 
of his death deserve to be recorded, as affording 
an instructive example of Christian heroism ; 
and he might have been justly regarded as a 
worthy associate of any Christian community. 
They lived at Kilbraney, near Old Ross, in the 
county of Wexford. 



Samuel was of a meek and tender spirit, and 
remarked for the benevolence of his disposition. 
At one period he had applied himself closely to 
the perusal of Fox's Martyrology, and other re- 
ligious books ; thus fortifying his mind, as it 
were, against the day of trial. As the prepara- 
tions for the impending conflict were going for- 
ward, he became very thoughtful, apprehending 
that some serious calamity would befal him from 
the insurgents. About a month before the 
lamentable event took place, he told his wife 
that he did not expect to die upon his bed ; and 
on one occasion, having, with her, accompanied 
some young women to their place of abode, who 
were gay and lively, he remarked, with much 
seriousness, ' How little do these poor creatures 
know what is before them ! ' The last time he 
attended the meeting at Forrest, it appeared as 
if he considered it to be a final parting with his 

Shortly after this, as the troubles increased, 
and danger became more imminent, he was urged 
by his Protestant neighbours to fly for refuge 
to the adjacent garrison town of New Ross ; but 
he and his wife thought it right to remain at 
their own residence. 

He was taken prisoner, soon after, with his 
elder brother John, and conveyed to the man- 
sion of F. King, of Scull abogue, his wife accom- 
panying them. John lamented his situation 
and former manner of life, signifying that he 
was ill prepared to die ; but Samuel encouraged 
him by repeating the declaration of our Saviour, 



'He that fiudeth his life shall lose it, aud he 
that loseth his life for my sake shall find it.' 

The house where they were imprisoned was 
close to the noted barn, in which, within a few 
days after they were taken, a number of their 
fellow-creatures were horribly burnt to death. 
Like many others confined there, they had little 
to eat ; and his wife, having procured a loaf of 
bread, brought it to him ; but being more in- 
clined to sleep than to eat, he placed it under 
his head, intending to reserve it till he awoke ; 
and whilst he slept, it was conveyed away. 
When he awoke, and his wife was lamenting 
the loss of it at such a time of need, lie patiently 
answered her, ' God, who has permitted the food 
to be taken away, can likewise take away 
hunger.' But afterwards, as he was walking 
about the room, his foot struck against a plate 
of potatoes, which lay concealed under some 
clothes, and, though cold, to them they were 
delicious. A New Testament which they had 
with them, afforded them much comfort. On 
the morning of the day when the barn was set 
on fire, which was also the day of the battle of 
Ross, as they were reading in the New Testa- 
ment, Samuel's wife inquired of one of their 
guards the cause of the peculiar smell, like 
burning animal matter, which she perceived. 
He told her it proceeded from some beef steaks 
they were preparing for breakfast ! To a further 
inquiry she made, ' What was meant by the 
firing of guns ? ' he replied, ' It is some criminals 
we are shooting.' ' And wiU they shoot us ? ' 



said the poor woman. ' 0 ! maybe tliej will 
spare you till the last,' was his answer. 

In about five minutes after this, the three 
were taken out. 

The rebel officer who commanded there had 
been reminded by Samuel of their having been 
school-fellows, and the latter had given him his 
watch and money to keep for him ; it is even 
stated, that the officer slept in the same bed 
with him part of the previous night. Having 
proposed to Samuel that he should conform and 
turn to the Roman Catholic profession, he re- 
plied, ' Where shall I turn, but where my God 
is ? ' And when he was urged to have his chil- 
dren sprinkled, he said, ' My children are inno- 
cent, and I will leave them so.' 

AVhen the two brothers, with Samuel's wife, 
were brought out into the lawn in front of the 
dwelling-house where they were imprisoned, to 
be put to death, some person said, ' They were 
Quakers.' It was replied, that 'if they could 
make it appear they were Quakers they should 
not be killed.' As they were not in reality 
members of the Society, this was not attempted 
to be done. Those who had them in custody 
then took Samuel aside, and on certain condi- 
tions offered him his life ; but, whatever was the 
nature of these conditions, he firmly rejected 
them ; and when the ttoly water, as they termed 
it, was brought to them, he turned his back 
upon it. 

The insurgents then shot his elder brother, 
whom he very much encouraged, fearing his 



steadfastness might give way — for John had 
shown a disposition to turn Roman Catholic, 
if it might be the means of saving Samuel's 
life ; but the latter encouraged his brother to 
faithfulness, expressing the words of our blessed 
Saviour, ' They that deny me before men, them 
will I also deny before my Father who is in hea- 
ven ; ' and he again revived the 39th verse of 
the same chapter in his remembrance. See 
Matthew, chap. x. 

Samuel then desired his love to be given to 
different Friends, whom he named — some of the 
rebels, at the same time, with a view to depress 
his spirits, telling him that these Friends had 
been made prisoners before he was, and shot at 
the camp at the Three Rocks. This communi- 
cation had partially the effect they intended ; 
he meekly replied, 'They died innocent.' He 
then took an affectionate farewell of his wife, 
who, with admii'able fortitude, stood between 
.the two brothers, holding a hand of each, when 
they were shot ; and his last words were reported 
to be those expressions of our Lord and Saviour, 
which he repeated for the third time in the hear- 
ing of his murderers, ' He that findetli his life 
shall lose it, and he that loseth his life for my 
sake shall find it.' It was cause of mournful 
reflection to his friends that he was fired at 
three times before his death took place. He 
was an innocent young man, much beloved by 
his neighbours. 

It seemed as if his wife would have shared 
the same fate, had not the officer who com- 



manrled interposed in her favour. She was 
permitted to convey their bodies to their former 
dwelling on a car ; but not being able at that 
time to procure coffins for them, she buried 
them in the garden. On the death of their aged 
father, which took place in the following month, 
and was probably hastened by the untimely end 
of his two only sons, the bodies of the three 
were taken to the burying-ground of the Friends 
at Forrest, and there interred, about seven 
weeks after. 

Let those who admire military courage, ask 
themselves, ' Who, in this case, were the really 
brave ? ' those who were slaughtered, or the sol- 
diers who slaughtered them ? 


' The flower of youth,' says one, ' never looks so 
•lovely as when it bends to the Sun of righteous- 
ness.' How pleasing are the displays of piety 
in such characters as Joseph, and Samuel, and 
Obadiah, who devoted their early prime, the 
flower of their youth, to the Lord, instead of 
spending in his service the last few years of 
their life, worn out by age, and sicknesSj and 
labour ; they devoted the whole to him, and 
found his ways to be pleasantness, and his paths 
to be peace. By serving the Lord tliey were kept 
from evil, guarded against temptations, and pre- 
served from the paths of the destroyer. — (Cope's 




Christianity does not allow of invidious distinc- 
tions in society. Where its spirit is truly 
breathed, it will tend to the same forgetfulness 
of distinction as was the case with the Emperor 
of Russia and William Allen ; or as was the 
case with Richard Reynolds and his workmen. 
When showing his works to a friend, Richard 
Reynolds pointed out his servant as a Friend. 
To the surprise of the visitor, the servant, who 
was a minister, sat above his master in meeting, 
and appeared acceptably in the ministry. 'Ah,' 
said Richard Reynolds, in reply to the remark 
of his friend, ' though I am his master out of 
meeting, he is my master when in it.' 


' The kingdom of God is not meat and drink, but righteous- 
ness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost.' — Rom. xiv. 17. 

Is heaven a flowery vernal field, 

Adorned with fruitful trees. 
Where fountains living water yield, 

And incense loads the breeze ? 

Is heaven a new Jerusalem, 

More gorgeous than the old. 
Her every several gate a gem, 

Her streets transparent gold ? 

Is heaven a temple fair, sublime, • 
Where countless spirits throng, 

And angel harps, with harps from time, 
Pour forth seraphic song ? 



O ! no, 'tis not in vernal plains, 

In golden streets or gems ; 
O ! no, 'tis not in choral strains, 

In thrones, or diadems. 

On earth the kingdom of the Lord 

Is all within, within; 
'Tis not in splendour or in word, 

'Tis power to vanquish sin ; 

'Tis righteousness without alloy 

That stands the testing fires ; 
'Tis peace with God, 'tis boundless joy 

The Iloly Ghost inspires. 

Above the just shall just remain. 

The pure be holy still ; 
To heaven escaped from sin and pain. 

To do their Father's wiO. — {Bible Lays.) 


A CLERGYMAN of tlic Cliurch of England, in de- 
picting Elizabeth Fry's extraordinary charac- 
ter, and in detailing some of her unparalleled 
labours in the walks of philanthropy, states, 
that he has ' for many years known much of 
Mrs. Fry as " a rare specimen of renovated and 
sanctified humanity." ' 

The same writer further observes — 'With 
unfeigned sincerity I declare that though I 
have known many eminent Christian ladies, 
whose heaven-born spirit and enlarged benevo- 
lence have " adorned the doctrine of Grod our 
Saviour," I have never met with, nor ever heard 
of, any one who appealed to be so highly gifted 

2 c2 



with the spirit, or so fully to exemplify the vir- 
tues of our Divine Redeemer.' — (T. Timpson.) 


' When I endeavour to represent eternity to 
myself,' says Saurin, ' I avail myself of what- 
ever I can conceive most long and durable. I 
heap imagination on imagination, conjectvire on 
conjecture. First, I consider those long lives 
which all men wish, and some attain. I observe 
those old men who live four or five generations, 
and who alone make the history of an age. 
I do more : I turn to ancient chronicles, I go 
back to the patriarchal age, and consider life 
extending through a thousand years ; and I say 
to myself. All this is not eternity, all this is only 
a point in comparison of eternity. Having re- 
presented to myself real objects, I form ideas 
of imaginary ones. I go from our age to the 
time of publishing the gospel, from thence to 
the publication of the law, from the law to the 
flood, from the flood to the creation ; I join this 
epoch to the present time, and imagine Adam 
yet living. Had Adam lived till now, and had 
he lived in misery, had he passed all his time 
in a fire, or on a rack, what idea must we form 
of his condition ? At what price would we 
agree to expose ourselves to misery so great ? 
What imperial glory would appear glorious were 
it followed by so much woe ? Yet this is not 
eternity; all this is nothing in comparison of 
eternity! I go further still. I proceed from 



imagination to imagination, from one supposi- 
tion to another. I take the greatest number 
of years that can be imagined. I add ages to 
ages, millions of ages to millions of ages. I 
form, of all these, one fixed number, and I stay 
my imagination. After this I suppose God to 
create a world like this we inhabit. I suppose 
him creating it, by forming one atom after 
another, and employing, in the production of 
each atom, the time fixed in my calculation just 
now mentioned! What numberless ages would 
the creation of such a world, in such a manner, 
require ! Then I suppose the Creator to ar- 
range these atoms, and to pursue the same plan 
of arranging them as of creating them. What 
numberless ages would such an arrangement 
require ! Finally, I suppose him to dissolve 
and annihilate the whole, and observing the 
same method in this dissolution as he observed 
in the creation and disposition of the whole. 
What an immense duration would be consumed ! 
Yet this is not eternity ; all this is only a point 
in comparison of eternity ! 

A lady having spent the afternoon and even- 
ing at cards, and in gay company, when she 
came home found her servant-maid reading a 
pious book. She looked over her shoulders and 
said, ' Poor melancholy soul ! what pleasure 
canst thou find in poring so long over that 
book?' That night the lady could not sleep, 
but lay sighing and weeping very much. Her 
servant asked her, once and again, what was 
the matter? At length she burst out into a 

2 c 3 



flood of tears, and said, ' O it was one word I 
saw in your book that troubles me ; there I saw 
the word eternity. 0 how happy should I be 
if I were prepared for eternity I ' The conse- 
quence of this impression was, that she laid 
aside her cards, forsook her gay company, and set 
herself seriously to prepare for another world. 

A religious man, skilled in all literature, was 
so ardently bent to impress eternity on his 
mind, that he read over carefully, seven times, 
a treatise on eternity, and had done it oftener, 
had not speedier death summoned him into it. 

Awful as the consideration of eternity is, it is a 
source of great consolation to the righteous. An 
eminent minister, after having been silent in 
company a considerable time, and being asked 
the reason, signified that the powers of his mind 
had been solemnly absorbed with the thought 
of everlasting happiness. ' 0 my friends,' said 
he, with an energy that surprised all present, 
' consider what it is to be for ever with the 
Lord — for ever, for ever, for ever!' 



In ancient York, by Clifford's hoary tower, 
I passed a portion of tlie musing hour ; 
Creative fancy marshall'd to my view 
Those scenes whicli Yorlc in long past ages knew. 
Kound Clifford's tower an army I beheld, 
Gloomy and fierce, impelling and rcpell'd ; 
But from my mind the dismal picture fades. 
As near its base passed on a troop of maids. 


Led fortli in order, with religious care, 
To meet their Maker in the house of prayer. 
To wait his presence, and, in holy fear. 
Worship the One on high with hearts sincere. 
O ! discipline, I see thee move with grace 
To train the various ranks of human race ; 
Through tears, I see thee stretch thy arm afar, 
To form and mould the brilliant ranks of war ; 
How lost thy glory, when the hapless slain 
Are found, by strangers, cooling on the plain ! 

But, to revert to that inviting scene, 

Which imaged war liad cast a gloom between, 

Lo ! here, to draw the blooming train around. 

No deafening drum, no trumpet's martial sound ; 

The signal given, behold, with willing air. 

In ranks the maidens to the school repair ; 

With easy order, and unclouded looks, 

They sit collected 'midst the hum of books. 

With eyes attentive, bending o'er the page. 

They gather wisdom for maturer age, 

Or trace, with hearts affectionate and kind. 

The lines of love to parents left behind ; 

O'er fingers bends the linen, white as snow. 

That distant brothers may their kindness know ; 

Or plant witli steel, in 2)urplo, green, and white. 

The alphabet, with every thread aright; 

Or through the canvas lead the Tyrian twine. 

Till colours rise that Joseph's coat outshine. 

That coat, recorded as a showy dress, 

Led not to harmony or happiness. 

But, in my sex, it sowed the seeds of ill 

In brothers' bosoms, envy and ill-will. 

O ! gentle sex, let never gay attire 

Such alien feelings in your breasts inspire. 

Of all the beauteous flowers we see prevail. 

We love the modest lily of the vale ; 

There is a sweet simplicity in dress, 

W^hose silent powers we inwardly confess; 

There is a dress that keeps the wearer warm. 

And guards her peaceful breast from rising harm ; 



Tliis seems the robe of innocence, designed 
By virtue's hand for lovely womankind. 

The dinner comes, no turtle fe.ast I ween. 
Round which voluptuous epicures are seen. 
But gentle females, all in vestments neat, 
Round wholesome viands take their ready seat ; 
Contentment smiles on every open face, 
And mild deconmi reigns around the place. 
The dinner over, and they troop away. 
Cheerful and lively, to the hall of play; 
Successive sports the allotted moments fill. 
Of active vigour and ingenious skill, 
"While health and pleasure blend theii- very hues, 
And o'er their cheeks a lovely bloom diffuse. 
These are the days to \>e remembered long. 
And I record these happy days in song. 

On Sabbath evening, pleased I saw you meet. 
Beloved girls, like forty sisters sweet, 
All of one parent, innocent and fair. 
Alike in vestments, and alike in air. 
Round one mild maid a stUl attention hung. 
While gospel trutlis fell gently from her tongue. 
Alternate three his sacred precepts read. 
And how his life the dear Messiah led — 
A life of love, for ever doing good. 
To those around him thirsting for his blood. 
Tea, in his short sojourning here below. 
Broke forth a light that will no period know, 
A light that shines in darkness and by day. 
To lead poor traveller on then- heavenly way. 
Beloved children, let me you engage 
To prize the blessings of a rising age ; 
O turn from folly, vanity, and priue, 
Lest, looking on, they draw your steps a.?ide. 
There is, dear girls, a still, small voice within. 
Which whispers warning at the approach of sin ; 
A secret word that says, ' I must forego,' 
When evil tempts to break a righteous law. 
This, the first lesson to the obedient, mind, 
Then active virtue will its season find. 



And honest zeal in time will flush the cheek, 
Till listening goodness takes its turn to speak. 

Amid the human race, is there a sight 
That fills the mind with feelings of delight. 
Like that of j'outh and innocence combin'd 
Within the modest form of womankind ? 

0 modesty I thy lineaments divine 

From maiden brows witli loveliest lustre shine. 

When modesty and innocency dwell 

Within one virtuous bosom, all is well; 

But when I meet with confidence and pride. 

Though in a female form, I turn aside. 

Yet modesty, however dear in youth, 

May join with firmness in the cause of truth ; 

May join that truth opposed to a lie, 

And that blest power that lights us to the sky. 

Light, grace, and truth, they ditl'er but in name, 

The same in substance, and in power the same. 

Your lives before j'ou, in your opening day, 

1 wish you well, my sistere, on your way 

Through this frail world, where specious lures abound, 

And dark designers walk tlieir nightly round. 

But heaven w3l still the suppliant maid befriend, 

And with a shield her innocence defend. 

Remember, oft in early life we take 

A character we never more forsake ; 

With prudence and with goodness then engage 

Your hearts, dear children, in your early age, 

So true e.-teem your virtue will repay. 

And peace wiU lead j'ou gently on your way. 

Of all the virtues cast in Imman mould, 

Integrity comes forth the purest gold ; 

Retain it, use it, 'twill be sure to call 

Round 3'ou, dear girls, the confidence of all. 

Integrity, even in these l)vistling times. 

When wealth is sou;;ht lor in far distant climes, 

In sterling worth will be a surety found. 

More firm, more stable, than the solid ground. 

My blooming sisters, when your gentle band 
To your loved homes is scatter'd o'er the land, 



Days spent at York in sweet remembrance keep, 
When some that loved you with their father's sleep ; 
Tf pious feelings there your minds impress'd. 
Cherish at home that treasure in your breast ; 
This, more than all, will then your hearts refine, 
'Tis something there of origin Divine ; 
'TwUl honour Him who walks in light, and, O I 
When j-ou resign these fading things below. 
Through heaven's blest portals opening wide above. 
You'll reach the boundless realms of peace and love ; 
Which state of happiness this pen of mine. 
Weak and unfit, presumes not to define. 


Biox the philosopher once told a miser, ' Thou 
dost not possess thj wealth, but thj wealth pos- 
sesses thee.' 


In 1687, Clement Lake received a letter from 
a certain John Flavell, ezhibiting many high 
charges against the Society, which he believed 
it his duty to refute. The following extracts are 
taken from his reply — 

' I believe that Christ is glorified with the 
Father, with the same glory he had before the 
world was, according to John xvii. 5. and 1 Tim. 
iii. 16. He is received up to glory, and that he 
shall come again in the glory of his Father, with 
his angels. Matt. xvi. 27. And that he is sitting 
on the right hand of power, Mark xiv. 62. And 
that he ascended up far above all heavens, and 



that he is gone into heaven, and is on the right 
hand of God, and that it is a glorious bodj, 
Phil. iii. 21.' 

To the charge that ' they [the Quakers] deny 
the satisfaction of the blood of Christ,' he says — 

' This is a false, lying, slanderous charge ; 
charge it who will. For my part, according to 
what I have heard and seen since acquainted 
with them, of all the sorts of professors that I 
have been conversant with, I have not known 
any to have a greater esteem for, and put a 
greater value on, the blood of the Lord Jesus 
Christ, than those do who are thus charged ; 
and indeed it is no wonder that they thus value 
it, seeing a remnant have experienced such in- 
expressible virtue from it and benefit by it. 

' As for my part, I believe salvation is in no 
other ; and out of him, there is none ; and I 
believe and know it is the faith of those with 
whom I walk, according to Acts iv. 12. And 
he is the propitiation for our sins, 1 John ii. 2. 
And he hath purchased us with his own blood, 
Acts XX. 28. and Rom. iii. 25. and by him we 
have remission of sin, and we are justified by 
his blood, Rom. v. 9. and by it we have eternal 
redemption, Heb. ix. 12 ; 1 Pet. i. 2. And if 
we walk in the light as He is in the light, we 
have fellowship one with another, and the blood 
of Christ cleanseth us from all sin. And what 
the difference is between the walking in the 
light, that is so much derided, and walking in 
Christ, I know not ; but if we walk in him, the 
blood of Jesus Christ will cleanse us from all 



sin, 1 John i. 7. and I believe not only from the 
guilt, but from the filth also, ver. 9. and I be- 
lieve that sanctification and ]'ustification are 
inseparable.' Pp. 10, 11.— 1687. 


O ! for a little of the best wisdom, and in- 
fluence of the Holy Spirit to walk circumspectly 
amongst all men ; wise as the serpent, harmless 
as the dove, and however I may be treated, to 
be myself full of charity. — Elizabeth Fry. 



In the eai-ly part of this young woman's illness, 
she evinced much anxiety to recover ; but her 
mind was soon seriously impressed with the 
belief that she should not, which caused her to 
be very thoughtful ; and her spirits were at 
times much depressed. Whilst under these dis- 
couragements, two Friends on a religious engage- 
ment paid her a visit, from which she appeared 
to receive much comfort ; and after that time 
until her close, her sweet frame of mind was 
remarkable. So great was her peace, that at 
times she expressed a fear whether it might not 
be a delusion ; but, checking herself for enter- 
taining such a thought, she said, '0, it is the 
enemy! I know it is the insinuation of the 
enemy ! ' 



During an illness of six months, thirteen 
weeks of which she was confined to her bed, and 
suffered much from bodily weakness, a murmur 
was never observed to escape her. On one 
occasion she observed, ' It is all in wisdom that 
I am thus afflicted ; for I felt, before I was taken 
iU, that I was getting high ; and if things had 
continued to prosper with me, I believe I should 
have got very high ; so that it is all in wisdom 
I am to be taken away.' Again, ' I have no 
desire to get better unless it be the will of the 
Almighty ; then I feel as if I should be willing 
to recover.' Her only sister once remarking to 
her, how little she appeared to suffer in mind, 
to what many did at such a time ; she answered, 
' But thou little knowest what I had to suffer, 
before I attained unto this state ; yet things have 
been made easier to me than I ever expected.' 
At another time, feeling herself growing weaker, 
she remarked to her sister, with a sweet smile 
upon her countenance, ' It is a happy thought ; 
I shall soon have to leave this weary world ; I 
hope it will be soon. How pleasant when I can 
rest in peace — in sweet, happy peace.' 

She advised her sister not to give too much 
attention to dress, saying, ' Although I dressed 
consistently, I have now to regret that I should 
have been so particular in wishing to have my 
apparel of the finest quality ; but were I to re- 
cover, my clothing should be plain and homely.' 
She also advised her against reading unprofit- 
able books ; and her sentiments, which were 
found in her pocket book, are worthy of deep 

IV. 2 D 



attention ; ' It is cause of sorrow to me, tliat so 
much of my precious time should have been 
devoted to reading books of that kind, which 
are supposed to improve the stylo of writing ; 
though they may contain notliing of a hurtful 
tendency, the perusal of them never yielded me 
any solid satisfaction. Did young people con- 
sider how short their time may be here, and 
how soon the blessing of liealth may be taken 
from them, I believe they would be more care- 
ful in employing it to the best advantage.' 

The following little effasion was also found 
pencilled in her pocket book. 

Sweet the hours of tribulation, 

When the soul can firmly cry, 
Lord, each painful tribulation 

Patiently to bear I'll try. 

Oft the mind knows no restriction 
Till the pangs of anguish come. 

Softened then by each affliction. 
Gladly it would seek a home. 

Sweeter than a concli of roses 
Does this bed of sickness prove. 

When ray soul in faith reposes 
On tlic Saviour's arm of love. 

Jesus, mayst thou still be near me. 

May thy light for ever shine. 
May tliy holy presence cheer me, 

And, at last, may I be thine. 


John Dobbs of Youghal, an eminent pliysician, 
and an elder in the Society of Friends, whilst 



travelling towards tlie north of Ireland, hap- 
pened to be passing through a small village late 
in the evening. Here his notice was attracted 
bj the merriment usually attendant upon a 
' wake ' among the poorer class of the Irish ; 
and, feeling a stop in his mind, for which he 
could not account, lie alighted, and entered a 
small cabin, where he found a number of persons 
sitting round a middle-aged female. On his 
approaching and requesting leave to examine, 
he soon perceived that life was not quite ex- 
tinct, and, on his making use of some restorative 
means, she revived, to the surprise of those pre- 
sent ; lived many years after ; and, as a token 
of her gratitude to Dr. Dobbs, as the instrument 
of rescuing her from such a dreadful situation, 
walked to Youghal, more than eighty miles from 
her residence, to present him with some stock- 
ings of her own knitting. 

Dr. Dobbs died in the year 1739, much es- 
teemed for his usefulness in civil and religious 


Pierre Rabinel was a worthy old man, a mini- 
ster among the little company of Friends at 
Congenies, in the south of France. He earned 
a livelihood by pruning the vine, as well as from 
the products of a small vineyard of his own, 
which he cultivated himself. The latter was 
situated on the declivity of a hill, in a retired 
part of the country. 

2 d2 



One evening whilst the moon shone brightly, 
Pierre Rabinel, after pursuing his usual avoca- 
tion — pruning, and digging about the roots of 
his vines — was about to pi'oceed homewards. 
Hearing a noise near him, he looked up, and 
saw a wolf advancing towards him, howliag and 
showing his hungry teeth. 

Without losing his presence of mind, the 
good old man, keeping his eye steadily fixed 
upon the ravenous beast, fell on his knees, and 
poured forth an earnest prayer to his heavenly 
Father to be his protector, and enable him to 
drive away his fearful companion. Rising from 
his knees, he still kept his eye steadily fixed on 
those of the wolf, which was only distant from 
him the length of a pick-axe he had in his hand. 
He now walked backwards, over a very stony 
path, if path it might be called, for at least a 
mile, the wolf keeping close to him all the way, 
when an unexpected noise so teiTified the animal, 
that, after grinning at him, he turned suddenly 
away, and soon disappeared. 

The Friend who related the above is a native 
of Congenies, and says the story has been fami- 
liar to her since the days of her childhood, 
having often made the good old man repeat the 
circumstances to her whilst sitting on his knee. 
'He never related it,' she adds, 'without deep 
seriousness ; and the recollection of the power 
which, in so remarkable a manner, kept his 
enemy at bay, frequently filled his eyes with 
tears of gratitude.' 

Pierre Rabinel having related this providen- 



tial deliverauce to two English Friends, wliilst 
ou a religious visit to the south of France, thej 
have recorded it in the following lines: — 

The sun was setting in the west, 

And shed a soft and parting ray, 
As Rabinel, in search of rest. 

Gently pursued his homeward way. 

Early impress'd with serious thought. 

He turned fi'om earth to heaven above ; » 
And, thence inspired, those precepts taught 
Which flow from faith and gospel love. 

His daily task, to prune the vine, 

A lesson of instruction gave, 
To let His holy hand refine. 

Who died to ransom and to save. 

Musing, he shed the grateful tear. 

When, in the wood's extended shade, 
Deep howls convince of danger near, 
' A wolf,' he sighed, and sbrunk afraid. 

' O save me. Lord '.' he raised bis eyes, 
And saw the prowler mark his prey. 
Ready to leap upon his prize. 

No arm but God's his sou! to stay. 

What could he do ? aghast with fear, 

Still, still he shrunk, the wolf pursued; 
He then advanced, the wolf came near. 
And o'er his victim seemed to brood. 

Poor Rabinel, in this dread hour 

He knows his Lord can death control. 
He clings to him who reigns in power. 
And, kneeling, pours forth aU his soul. 

He prays for helj), or strength to bear 

The dissolution of his frame. 
Then, filled with faith, ' thou still canst spare, 
And e'en the wildest creature tame.' 

2 0 3 




The wolf seemed stayed by hands unseen, 
The pilgrim rose prepared to die, 

When suddenly, with softened mien. 
The creature passed him harmless by. 

And now poor Rabinel, though spent. 
Breaks forth in praises to his Lord, 

Recording wonders as he went 
To join the dear domestic board. 

And e'en till age his locks had bleached 
He loved to bear the sweet record, 

llow fervent prayer the throne had reached, 
And brought deliverance from his Lord. 

' Ask, and receive,' the Saviour cried. 
And when aU earthly hope is vain, 

How does hLs providence preside. 
And raise from death to life again. 


' Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to 
dwell together in unity ! 

' It is like the precious ointment upon the head, that ran 
down upon the beard, even Aaron's beard, that went down 
to the sliirts of his garments ; 

' As the dew of Hernion, and as the dew that descended 
upon the mountains of Zion : for there the Lord commanded 
the blessing, even life for evermore.' — Ps. cxxxiii. 

'Tis a pleasant thing to see 
Brethren in the Lord agree, 
Children of a God of love. 
Live as they shall live above. 
Acting each a Christian part. 
One in lip, and one in heart. 

As the precious ointment, shed 
Upon Aaron's hallow'd head. 
Downward through his garments stole, 
Scatt'ring odours o'er the whole; 



So, from our High Priest above, 
To Lis churcii flows heavenly love. 

Gently as the dews distil 
Down on Zion's holy hill. 
Dropping gladness where they fall, 
Brightening and refreshing all ; 
Such is Christian union, shed 
Through the members, from the head. 


Dear George Dillwjn remarked to-day that an 
ancient Friend, a pillar of the church, now no 
more, used to make it a practice to consider in 
the morning whether he had any concerns of 
the church to attend to that day, and, when he 
had settled this point, to arrange his own busi- 
ness. — (Wm. Allen's Diary.) 


From the Notes kept by a Friend who attended 
the Yearly Meeting of Philadelphia in 1792, we 
find that Rebecca Jones was earnestly engaged 
therein, in pressing on old and young the neces- 
sity of weightiness of spirit in religious meetings. 
In the course of her remarks, she said that if 
members were truly weighty in spirit during 
the time of the meeting, they would not exhibit 
the lightness which is so much apparent in some 
before they are out of the house, and round 



about it. The solemnity on the countenances 
of Friends would indicate that they had been 
with Him whom thej met professedly to wpr- 
ship ; and, in meekness and humility, they would 
feel and show themselves to be his humble 

How little is known by many of that true 
introversion, in which the mind, being with- 
drawn from outward things, is properly prepared 
to understand the motions of the Spirit, and, 
through the fresh aspirations thereof, effectually 
to cry, ' Abba, Father ! ' Instead of waiting 
upon God, in earnest desire to draw near him 
in spirit, many in religious assemblies let their 
minds out in consideration of their business or 
their pleasures. How common is this sin ! A 
Friend in Philadelphia, who was by profession 
a tanner, once dreamed that he was sitting in a 
religious meeting, wherein he was surpi'ised to 
observe the congregation with tables before 
them, at which they were pursuing their usual 
avocations. The merchant had his books there, 
the retailer his goods, the mechanic his tools. 
Indignant at such employment amongst those 
professedly assembled for the awful and soul- 
important purpose of Divine worship, he was 
about rising to reprove them sharply, when, in- 
cidentally placing his hand behind him, be found 
a bundle of calf skins suspended from his own 
shoulders ! How much easier is it to discover 
the errors of others than our own, and how often 
we richly deserve the very condemnation we mete 
out to our neighbours. Tiie wilful indulgence 



of wandering thoughts in meeting is sin, and it 
will be felt to have been so whenever the soul 
comes really and truly under a concern to be 


Religious retirement ought to be sought, even 
when we feel a contrary inclination, more es- 
pecially when the holy flame languisheth, and 
the spirit of the world prevails. — (Wm. Allen.) 


It was not unusual in the reign of Charles II., 
when the Quakers' meetings were broken up by 
force of arms, for the officer commanding the 
detachment, when questioned as to his authority, 
to lay his hand on his sword, and tell the party 
tJiat 7vas his warrant. 


* Repeat no grievances,' says one of the golden 
rules of Charles I., to which the monarch should 
have added, to make his meaning clear, the same 
having been once redressed. Until redress of 
some kind be obtained, no just censure is there- 
fore incurred by reviving such facts as the fol- 
lowing: — 

Barbadoes, 1669 — lOth case presented to the 
Government. — Joseph Hobbs, constable, took 



from Richard Gay one of his best Negro men,* 
and one horse, appraised at 7500 lbs. of sugar 
(the demand was for 4200 lbs.), for not sending 
his people to help to build forts, and for what 
are called church dues. The whole was retained. 

18</i case. — Taken from Edward Oistine by 
Richard Marshall, by ordei-, in writing, from 
Christopher Lyne, major, for not sending people 
in arms to the fort, one young Negro man, about 
the age of nineteen or twenty years, worth 3000 
lbs. of sugar. Also taken from liim, one cow 
forward with calf, appraised at 1700 lbs. of 
sugar, but worth 2000 lbs. The demand was 
for 1260 lbs., for not sending his horse into the 
troop. Nothing of the surplus was returned or 
tendered. , 

1689, 22d case. — Thomas Pilgrim, for not 
appearing and not sending men in arms, 
£80, 5s. 9d. ; for opening shop on the day 
called Christmas-day, £20, 5s. ; and for church 

* The Society of Friends have long discontinued the 
practice of holding Negroes otherwise than as servants. 
When George Fox visited the West Indies in 1671, he re- 
commended that they should not only treat them with 
humanity and gentleness, but that after certain years of 
servitude they should be set free. This advice being fol- 
lowed by Friends, caused a general alarm to the inhabitants, 
who charged the Society with teaching the Negroes to rebel. 
Accordingly, in 1C76, an Act was passed by tlie Assembly 
of Barbadoes, ' to prevent the people called Quakers from 
bringing Negroes to their Meetings ;' and continued by a 
second Act, in 1678, forfeiting such Negroes (or £10 for 
each of them, at the informant's option), one-half to the in- 
former, the other to the public use of the island. — (Gouoii 
and Besse.) 



claims and priests' wages, £29, 13s. lid-; in 
all, £130, 3s. lOid Among these distresses, 
the spoiler seized the principal Negro woman he 
had in his family, carrying her away from her 
husband, children, and grand-children, thougli 
her master would not have separated her so 
from them for any money whatsoever. — (Besse's 

It may be well to apprize the reader that the 
currency of Barbadoes, or the standard of the 
value of all commodities, was at the time of 
these seizures in sugar, the staple product of 
the island; that the laws of the island required 
the personal military service of the inhabitants, 
with that of their servants and horses, inflicting 
severe penalties in case of default. 

At the time referred to, there were so many 
Friends in Barbadoes that they had several 
meeting-houses ; and their cases of suffering, 
recorded by the author cited, and presented at 
several times to the governor, council, and as- 
sembly, amount in number to 384, and in value 
to £11,805; of which sum, £1817 was taken 
contrary to laio, severe as the law was. This in 
the space between 1658 and 1695, and attended 
with much personal infliction. 


The names of the Shackletons of Ballitore are 
familiar to Friends generally as the conductors 



of a boarding school of some note at the aboVe- 
uamed place, which was first opened bj Abra- 
ham Shackleton in 1726. 

Abraham Shackleton was a native of York- 
shire, born about the year 1696. His mother 
died when he was six years of age, his father 
two years afterwards. Though deprived so 
early of religious parents, the impression made 
on him by their careful education was not in 
vain. He used frequently to mention the tender 
concern of his pious father, who, following him 
to his bedside, was wont, on leaving him to his 
repose, awfully to recommend him to seek the 
Divine blessing. And that blessing did re- 
markably attend him during the course of his - 
life ; for whilst as yet very young, and exposed 
to manifold dangers, he was enabled to pre- 
serve the tenderness and innocence which con- 
stitute the happiness of childhood; and often 
retiring from his companions, he mused in soli- 
tude on the love of his Maker. In his youth he 
underwent great exercise and conflicts, but per- 
severing in the straight path of duty, and yielding 
obedience to the Divine monitor, through every 
stage of life the same protection was extended, 
as the same watchful care to seek after it was 

His bodily frame not being robust, after hav- 
ing made trial of other means of gaining a live- 
lihood, he resigned them, and cultivated his 
natural taste for literature. Though he was 
twenty years of age when he began to learn the 
Latin language, yet, with genius and applica,- 



tion united, he speedily became a good classical 
scholar, and even wrote pure and elegant Latin. 
His acquirements, his diligence, and still more, 
his character, induced some of the most respect- 
able families of the Society of Friends in Ire- 
land (of which religious body lie was himself a 
member), to encourage him to go into that coun- 
try and undertake the tuition of their children. 
He first engaged in the employment of a private 
teacher, discharging his important trust greatly 
to the satisfaction of his employers ; before his 
removal he had became acquainted with Mar- 
garet Wilkinson of Knowlbank, in Yorkshire. 
She was pleasing in person and manners, cheer- 
ful, of a sweet temper, and endowed with good 
sense ; but what attracted and confirmed Abra- 
ham Shackleton's affection to her, was the ex- 
cellence of her humble and pious spirit. He 
loved her with a true love, and, in a few years, 
returned to England, solicited, and obtained 
her hand. Those Friends who had had trial of 
his abilities as a private teacher, and who saw 
the advantages accruing to the youth from such 
an example as his, were glad to find he had 
determined to settle in Ireland, and to open a 
boarding-school. They probably suggested the 
idea to him, for he was of a diffident dispositon. 
Ballitore seemed to be a suitable place for this 
purpose, a retired village in the county of Kil- 
dare, twenty-eight miles south of Dublin, the 
river Griese, a pleasant stream, running through 
the valley in which the village stands, and con- 
tributing to its salubrity. It was a situation, 



also, wliich gratified Abraham Sliackleton's in- 
clination for the country, and his love of agri- 
culture and planting. Ilither, tlien, he brought 
his beloved Margaret. Here they passed their 
peaceful, pious lives ; here shone the steady 
lustre of tlieir bright example ; and here they 
laid down their heads in a good old ago. But 
their virtues left behind a sweet odour, when 
their places knew them no more; and their 
meraoi'ies are handed down, with respect and 
love, from one generation to another. 

The boarding-school was opened on the 1st 
of the 3d month, 172G, and succeeded beyond 
the Immble hopes of its conductors ; so that not 
only those of their own Society, and of the 
middle rank, but many persons of considerable 
note^ and of various denominations, placed their 
children under their care ; several of whom 
afterwards filled conspicuous stations in life; and 
many not only retained a grateful and affec- 
tionate respect for the memory of their pre- 
ceptor, but good-will and regard for tlie Society 
of Friends on his account; remembering his 
extraordinary diligence and care in their tuition, 
his fatherly oversight of them, and also the 
living lesson ot uprightness, temperance, gravity, 
and humility, which he taught by his example. 
And there is ground to believe, that the prin- 
ciples of the people called Quakers were better 
understood, and that many illiberal prejudices 
against them were removed by means of Balli- 
tore school. 

Amongst the scholars of Abraham Shackle- 



ton, oue of the most distinguished for early 
attainments in literature was Edmund Burke, 
who, with Garret and Richard, his brothers, 
was placed under his care in the year 1741. 
Edmund, being then about eleven years of age, 
manifested uncommon genius, with qualities 
which shelter that 'painful pre-eminence ' from 
those envious blasts, which annoy even when 
they cannot injure; for he was unassuming, 
affable, and modest. He and Richard Shackle- 
ton, the sou of Abraham, pursued their studies 
together. The minds of both were strongly 
bent to literary acquirements ; both were en- 
dowed with a classical taste, solid judgment, 
and keen perceptions ; and with similar dispo- 
sitions, cheerful, affectionate, and benevolent. 
Between these kindred minds a friendship was 
formed, which continued through life, notwith- 
standing the different spheres in which they 
moved. When they met afterwards, Edrauud 
Burke delighted to converse with the friend of 
his youth, on subjects that recalled their juvenile 
days. In private life, he was distinguished by 
the practice of the domestic and social virtues, 
and by exemplary moral conduct. His manners 
and conversation were engaging and instruct- 
ive ; clothed with a simplicity which softened 
the brilliancy of his talents, and made him even 
more beloved than admired. 

Micliael Kearney was another of Abraham 
Shackleton's pupils, a native of Dublin ; a per- 
son of acknowledged worth and learning, and 
as remarkable for his modcstv as for liis ac- 

2 E 2 



quiremeuts. At the age of eighty, he gave 
proof, by a few lines addressed to one of the 
family, of the permanency of that friendship 
which, springing from the soil of innocent and 
cultivated minds, produces blossoms and fruits 
to gladden the heart in youth and in age. 
' A renewal,' says he, ' however slight, of a cor- 
respondence with Ballitore, excited a most af- 
fecting pulsation in my heart: it attracted my 
attention to old times, when I was accustomed 
to receive letters from your father, to whom 
I am indebted for much instruction in what 
is laudable and excellent.' Speaking of the 
pleasure with whicli he read a description of 
Ballitore in verse, lie adds, ' It bestowed on me 
a momentary youth. I recollected the haunts 
of my boyhood with inexpressible pleasure, and 
retraced events that had occurred on every spot. 
The cowslips of the Mill-field were not forgotten, 
and many instructive conversations with your 
father started into my mind.' It was not the 
recollection of hours spent with his friend in 
idleness, folly, or mischievous frolics, whicli was 
presented to his memory ; but through the long 
retrospect of much more than half a century, 
this venerable man could pleasantly contem- 
plate their past studies and recreations. The 
cultivation of taste and science is favourable to 
the preservation of purity in conduct and sen- 
timent; and though there are lamentable in- 
stances of fine talents being laid waste, and, 
instead of raising a goodly and useful structure, 
aff"ording, by their ruin, a shelter to the beasts 



of prey and birds of night; yet the generality 
of the dissipated and profligate appear to be 
those who have neglected or despised the im- 
provement of their own abilities, and endea- 
voured to depreciate those intellectual powers 
and accomplishments which they were either 
unwilling or unable to comprehend ; who, in the 
words of Gay, 

' O'ei'look with scorn all virtuous arts, 
For vice is fitted to their parts.' 

Of Abi'aham's §on, Richard Shackleton, some 
highly interesting and instructive memoirs and 
letters are published, from which the present 
particulars are extracted, which I shall con- 
clude with a testimony written, on occasion of 
his death, by his friend and fellow-student Ed- 
mund Burke, wlio justly appreciated the char- 
acter of him whom he had loved so long and so 


Deaconafiildj September 8th, 1792. 

My dear Madam, 
After some tears on the truly melancholy event 
of which your letter gives me the first account, 
I sit down to thank you for your very kind at- 
tention to me, in a season of so much and so 
just sorrow to yourself. Certainly my loss is 
not so great as yours, who constantly enjoyed 
the advantage and satisfaction of the society of 
such a companion, such a friend, such an in- 
structor, and such an example ; yet I am pene- 
trated with a very severe affliction, for my loss 

2 e3 



is great too. I am declining, or rather declined 
in life ; and the loss of friends, at no time very 
reparable is impossible to be repaired at all in 
this advanced period. His annual visit had 
been for some years a source of satisfaction that 
I cannot easily express. He had kept up the 
fervour of youthful affections ; and his vivacity 
and cheerfulness, which made his early days so 
pleasant, continued the same to the last ; the 
strictness of his virtue and piety had nothing in 
it of the morose or austere; and surely no life was 
better, and, it is a comfort to us to add, more 
happily spent than his. I knew him from the 
boyish days in wliich we began to love each 
other; his talents were great, strong, and 
various ; there was no art or science to which 
they were not sufficient in the contemplative 
life, nor any employment that they would not 
more than adequately fill in the active. Though 
his talents were not without that ambition which 
generally accompanies great natural endow- 
ments, it was kept under by great wisdom and 
temperance of mind ; and though it was his 
opinion that the exercise of virtue was more 
easy, its nature more pure, and its means more 
ijertain in the walk he chose, yet in that, the 
activity and energy whicli formed the character 
of his mind, were very visible. Apparently in 
a private path of life, his spirit was public. 
You know how tender a father he was, to chil- 
dren worthy of him ; yet he extended himself 
moi-e widely, and devoted a great part of liis 
time to the good of that Society, of no mean ex- 



tent, of which the order of Divine Providence 
had made him a member. With a heart far 
from excluding others, he was entirely devoted 
to the benefit of that Society, and had a zeal 
very uncommon for everything which regarded 
its welfare and reputation ; and when he retired, 
which he did wisely, and in time, from the 
worthy occupation whicli he filled in a superior 
manner, his time and thouglits were given to 
that object. He sanctified his family bene- 
volence, his benevolence to his Society, and to 
his friends, and to mankind, with that reverence 
in all things to the Supreme Being, without 
which the best dispositions, and the best teach- 
ing, will make virtue, if it can bo at all attained, 
uncertain, poor, hard, dry, cold, and comfort- 
less. Indeed we have had a loss. I console 
myself under it, by going over the virtues of my 
old friend, of which, I believe, I am one of the 
earliest witnesses, and the most warm admirers 
and lovers. 

Believe me, this whole family, who have 
adopted my interest in my excellent departed 
friend, are deeply touched witii our common 
loss, and sympathize with you most sincerely 

I hope you will assure my dear 

friend, Mrs. Shackleton, the worthy wife of my 
late invaluable friend, that we sympathize 
cordially in all she feels ; and join our entreaties 
to yours, tliat she will preserve to you as much 
as possible of the friend and parent you have 
lost. ]']dmukd Bukke. 




True politeness is the genuine offspring of true 
religion ; a sullen severity of manner is nowhere 
inculcated in the gospel ; meekness, humility, 
and condescension are there marked out as 
fundamental graces ; and wliere these reign in 
the heart, they will surely dictate such a sweet 
and amiable conduct, as is only miinicked by 
the common forms of what is called good breed- 
ing. I find as great a want of this true polite- 
ness among the rich, as among the poor. 
Wealth gives it not, neither does poverty with- 
hold it ; like its illustrious parent, it is confined 
to no state of life, sect, or denomination. — 

It is said of William Penn that he was polite 
beyond all forms of breeding. 


When the last hour seems to be approaching, 
all terrestrial things are viewed with indifference, 
and the value that we once set upon them is 
disregarded or forgotten. And if the same 
thought were always predominant, we should 
then find the absurdity of stretching out our 
arms incessantly, to grasp that which we cannot 
keep, and wearing out ourselves in endeavours 
to add new turrets to the fabric of ambition. 


when the foundation itself is shaking, and the 
ground on whicli it stands is mouldering away. 
— [Guide to Domestic Happiness.) 


That Divine light, which enlightens all men, 
I believe, does often shine in the minds of chil- 
dren very early; and to humbly wait for wisdom, 
that our conduct towards them may tend to for- 
ward their acquaintance with It, and strengthen 
them in obedience thereto, appears to me to be 
a duty on all. — (John Woolman.) 


The best proof that can be given of our having 
attained some degree of wisdom and discretion, 
is a modest deference to the opinions of those, 
who, in the natural order of things, may reason- 
ably claim it. The young and the ignorant are 
prone to be self-opinionated, and impatient of 
control, simply because they are young and 
ignorant — ignorant especially of tliemselves. 



Beloved Friends — I have felt my mind drawn, 
under the pure influence of gospel love, to write 
you ; and though I am fully sensible that your 



states are widely different, yet I believe all of 
you have been overshadowed with that heavenly 
power, light, and life, which comes by Jesus 
Christ, and which, if you are concerned to seek 
after, no other knowledge but what comes from 
this Divine principle, placed in the secret of 
each heart, and are fully obedient to its dis- 
coveries, will lead all of you to a settlement 
upon that foundation which cannot be shaken. 
But as this is a work of time (and when tlie 
Lord works, the enemy of souls works also, if, 
by any means, he may frustrate his work, and 
cause the poor creature to take up a rest short 
of that which is pure and of the Lord's prepar- 
ing), I have earnestly desired, that one and all 
of you may centre down deep in your minds, 
and labour after that state of pure silence in 
which the Lord's still small voice is heard and 
distinctly understood ; in which state you will 
be favoui'cd clearly to distinguish betwixt it 
and the many strange voices that are in your- 
selves and in the world ; which, though they 
may raise a fire, and the poor creatures may, 
for a season, warm themselves at the sparks 
which they or others may kindle, yet, in the 
end, these will lie down in sorrow, and the just 
■witness, which may, for a season, be slain by 
the workings of the creature, will be heard to 
testify, 'Who hath required this at thy hands? ' 
but, in that state of pure silence, that voice is 
heard, which leads in the way of safety, and in 
the path of peace. Tlio Lord hath graciously 
and mercifully visited some of you who have 



sought him, as upon your beds, and in the 
streets, and broad ways, but found him not; 
and, in this state, the watchmen that go about 
the city have found you, and you have inquired 
of them, and had your expectations too much 
outward ; but the Lord hath followed, and is 
following these ; and 0 I saith my spirit, that 
in tliis, the day of his power, ye may be favoured 
to pass a little from these watchmen, and then 
you will find him whom your soul loveth ; and 
when you have found him, hold him, and do not 
let him go, until you have brought him unto 
your mother's house, and into the chamber of 
her that conceived you. There are others 
amongst you, who have passed by these watch- 
men, and know the fool's state — the only way 
to be truly wise — who are esteeming the re- 
proaches of Christ greater riches than all the 
treasures of the world ; and I hope that these 
■will be favoured, from one time unto another, 
to follow on to know the Lord — waiting for the 
renewed discoveries of his heavenly will, con- 
cerning them ; and, in this waiting state, he 
will, at times, be unto you ' As the dew of 
Hermon, and as the dew that descended upon 
the mountains of Zion ; for there the Lord com- 
manded the blessing, even life for evermore.' 
I am satisfied the good will of him wlio dwelt 
in a flame of fire in the bush, is towards all of 
you whom I am now addressing : and though 
your states may be different, there is one, even 
Christ Jesus, who can speak to them, who yet 
continues to speak, as never man spoke ; for his 



words are spirit aud life ; may every mind 
gather unto that light \rhich flows through him 
unto the hearts of all mankind, during the day 
of their visitation ; and, bv your obedience to 
its manifestations, know a passing through the 
many outward and shadowy observations, unto 
him who is the substance of all types, and end 
of all shadows. I have been many times deeply 
instructed in the gradual progressive work of 
religion in man, by the passage of our Lord and 
Saviour, when he took his disciples up into an 
high mountain, apart, and was transfigured be- 
fore them, his face shining as the sun, and his 
raiment white as the light, and there appeared 
unto them Moses and Elias talking with him. 
Now, this was a favoured state, so that one of 
them was ready to say. Lord, it is good for us 
to be here, if thou wilt let us make three taber- 
nacles — one for thee, oue for iloses, and one for 
Elias. Many of the professors of the Christian 
name, I believe, in the present day, have come 
thus far, and are building tabernacles, and taking 
up their rest here ; but remember, while Peter 
spake, behold a bright cloud overshadowed them, 
and a voice was heard out of the cloud, which 
said, ' This is my beloved Son, in whom I am 
well pleased — hear ye him.' Now, when they 
heard this voice, they fell on their face — a truly 
humbled situation ; self, and all selfish perform- 
ances were now slain — and they were favoured 
to see, that without him they could do nothing; 
then he came and touched them, and said. Arise, 
be not afraid ; thus was his strength made per- 



feet in tlieir weakness ; thus a I'cmnant can 
worship him, iu the beauty of holiness, and in 
newness of life, and with hearts prepared by his 
power. Celebrate his great and holy name, who 
hath declared he will be sanctified in all tliose 
who draw nigh unto him ; and when they had 
lifted up their eyes, they saw no man save Jesus 
only. My beloved Friends, — I earnestly desire 
that you may be favoured to know these tilings. 
Remember they were disciples before this ; and 
you have heard his call, and, in some measure, 
been obedient thereunto. Take not up your 
rest by the way, but follow on through the dis- 
pensation of Moses, and through the dispensa- 
tion of Elias, or John the Baptist, who, in his 
day, was a burning and shining light ; but the 
least of the kingdom is greater than he. Those 
who have known a coming through those shadowy 
dispensations, until Jesus be left alone, experi- 
ence Christ to be all and in all. I earnestly 
desire that you may be pressing forward towards 
this attainment ; and it springs in my heart to 
say, 'See that ye fall not out by the way.' The 
enemy may seek to frustrate the work the Lord 
hath begun, this way endeavouring to divide in 
Jacob and scatter in Israel. But if you are 
studying to be quiet and do your business, keep- 
ing the eye single, you will be favoured to see 
and escape his snares, being preserved in that 
love wliich thinketh no evil ; thus will the strong 
bear the infirmities of the weak, and all of you 
will be elothed with humility, which state the 
Lord condescends to own ; and thus may you 

IV. 2 F 



have a word in season one unto another, which 
may have a tendency to build up in the faith ; 
and thus will an increase of love to God, and 
one to another be experienced ; and by this 
mark shall ye be known to be the true disciples 
of Christ. And the more you are favoured to 
see that you cannot live by past experience, and 
brought into a daily dependence upon hira who 
declares himself to be the bread of life, the more 
you will see the necessity of attending religious 
meetings, and outward suffering will not deter 
you from It. And when gathered, as you can- 
not rest satisfied without renewedly feeling after 
his power, he will graciously condescend to over- 
shadow you, in his own time, with his presence — ■ 
making you joyful in the house of prayer ; thus 
will you be favoured to return from your assem- 
blies, as sheep from the washing pool, each one 
bearing twain. 

I salute you in that love which drew me forth 
to write unto you, and in which love I close ; 
and remain your truly affectionate, and well 
wishing Friend, Joseph Wood. 

Newhouse, ith Month, 1802. 


Man is made for reflection ; hence all his dig- 
nity and value. His duty consists in the right 
direction of his mind, and the exercise of his 
intellect in the study of himself, his. Author, 
and his end. But what is the mental occupa- 



tion of the world at large ? Never this, but 
diversion, wealth, fame, power ; without regard 
to the essential duties of intellectual man. The 
human intellect is most admirable in its nature ; 
it must have strange defects to make it despic- 
able; and, in fact, it has so many and so great, 
as to be supremely contemptible. How gi"eat 
is it in itself, how mean in its corruptions I 
There is in man a continual conflict between 
his reason and his passions ; he might enjoy 
tranquillity to a certain extent, were he mastered 
by either of these singly. If ho had reason 
without passion, or passion without reason, he 
might have some degree of peace ; but, possess- 
ing both, he is in a state of perpetual warfare, 
for peace with one is war with the other ; he is 
divided against himself. If it be an unnatural 
blindness, to live without inquiring into our 
true constitution and condition, it proves a 
hardness yet more dreadful to believe in God, 
and live in sin. — (Pascal.) 


To watch the spirit of childi"en, to nurture them 
in gospel love, and to labour to help them 
against that which would mar the beauty of 
their minds, is a debt we owe them ; and a 
faithful performance of our duty not only tends 
to their lasting benefit, and our own peace, but 
also to rciuler their company agreeable to us. — 
(John Woolman.) 

•2 I - 1 




Dr. AValkeu being in France in the time of 
tlie Revolution, on account of refusing to wear 
the national cockade was often subjected to 
many inconveniences, which, however, were 
generally escaped when he announced himself 
a Quaker. Whilst at Paris, the aide de camp 
of Bonaparte came up to him in the hotel, and 
asked wliether he was one of the proscribed 
conscripts. The reason of this was his not 
wearing the national cockade. 

On entering France, after leaving Holland, 
the town first arrived at was Malines. In 
the company were some military ofiicers and 
merchants. The sentinels at the gate furiously 
demanded that Dr. Walker should mount the 
national cockade. His fellow-travellers en- 
deavoured to persuade him to submit. • All 
the way to Paris,' said they, 'at every garrison 
your refusal will excite a similar storm. It is 
the law that every one shall wear the three- 
coloured cockade. The Directory cannot excuse 
it.' To induce the doctor to submit, they bought 
cockades for him. However, he would not. 
When they arrived at Brussels, Dr. Walker thus 
addressed his friends, ' Citizens, and fellow- 
travellers, I am very sensible of your polite 
attention to a stranger ; but I wish no longer 
to prove a source of uneasiness to you. I pro- 
pose to offer myself a prisoner to the command- 
ant, as acting in opposition to your laws.' 



Dr. Walker proccciled forthwith to the com- 
mandant's, and on being introduced, said, 'Jo 
vais mo rcudre prlsonier.' ' Pourquoi ; avez 
vous faites du mal?' 'Non.' He then ex- 
plained ; on whicli the secretary observed, 
•Restez, vous tranquilles. On respecte religion 
en France.' ' Yes,' rejoined Dr. Walker ; ' but 
imhappily Quakers are but little known there. 
If thou could'st favour me with any certificate 
or memorial of what thou knowest of our passive 
character, it might facilitate my journeyings in 
your land.' ' If you saw us,' said the secretary, 
* making preparations for the invasion of Eng- 
land, would you not endeavour to give your 
countrymen information of it ? ' ' If I knew,' 
rejoined Dr. Walker, ' the English to be about 
to make a descent on your coasts to-morrow 
morning, I .should now bo silent. In like man- 
ner, I should be silent towards my countrymen 
if I knew ye were about to invade. I cannot 
mingle or take any part in the hostile proceed- 
ings of any people. They are all equal in my 
view. I wish the diffusion of peace among 
them.' ' That is enough,' said the secretary, 
who, notwithstanding the multiplicity of his en- 
gagements, completed a passport, which opened 
Dr. Walker's way through every interruption, 
military, ecclesiastical, and civil, on his present- 
ing it to the constituted authorities. ' Parbleu ! ' 
said the astonished Parisians ; ' here is a pass- 
port would carry thee to the moon.' — {Life of 
Dr. Walker, pp. 135, 136.) 

2 1-3 




The religious worship of the primitive Chris- 
tians was conducted with the same simplicity 
and freedom which characterized all their eccle- 
siastical polity. They came together for the wor- 
ship of God, in the confidence of mutual love, 
and prayed, and sung, and spoke in the fulness 
of their hearts. A liturgy and a prescribed form 
of prayer were alike unknown and inconsistent 
with the spirit of their worship. 

It is particularly worthy of remai'k, that iu 
all the examples of prayer in the New Testa- 
ment, several of which are recorded apparently 
entire, there is no similarity of form or expres- 
sion, or any repetition of a form, with the single 
exception of tlie response, Amen, Peace be with 
3'ou, &c. Even our Lord's Prayer is never re- 
peated on such occasions, nor is there in all the 
New Testament the slightest indication of its 
use, either by the apostles or by the churches 
which were founded by them. The apostles, 
then, prayed extemporaneously ; and their ex- 
ample is in favour of this mode of offering unto 
God the desires of our soul. 

The Lord's Prayer appears not to have been 
given to the disciples as a form of public prayer ; 
but as a specimen of that spirituality and sim- 
plicity which should appear iu their devotions, 
in opposition to the ' vain repetitions of the 
heathens,' and the heartless formalities of the 
Pharisees. It merely enforces a holy impor- 
tunity, sincerity, and simplicity in private prayer. 



Our Lord expressly enjoined upon his disciples 
to offer other petitions, of the highest import- 
ance, for which no form is given. Tiie gifts of 
the Holy Spirit are offered to those who shall 
ask, while yet no formula is prescribed, in which 
to make known our requests for this blessing. 

A strict adherence to such a form, is incom- 
patible with a suitable recognition of Christ as 
our Mediator aud Intercessor with the Father. 
' Hitherto,' said our Lord in his last interview 
with his disciples before he suffered, ' Ye have 
asked nothing in my name.' But now a new 
and peculiar dispensation was opening to tliem, 
by which they might have 'boldness to enter 
into the holiest, by the blood of Jesus.' We are 
left then to the conclusion, that neither did the 
apostolical churches use any forms of prayers, 
nor is such use authorised by Divine authority. 

No such thing is to be found in the Scriptures 
as a catechism, or regular elementary introduction 
to the Christian religion ; neither do they furnish 
us with anything of the nature of a systematic 
creed, or set of articles, or by whatever other 
name we may designate it. Constantine took 
special care to have fifty copies of the Bible pre- 
pared for the use of the churches, and by a 
royal commission entrusted Eusebius, the his- 
torian, with the duty of procuring them. — 
(Euseb., Vit. Constant, lib. iv. 36.) How is it, 
that the service-book was entirely forgotten in 
this provision for the worship of God ? Plainly 
because none was. used for the purpose. 

The Lord's Prayer appears to have been used 



hy the primitive clmrclies about the close of 
the secoud aud beginning of the third century; 
and in the fifth and sixth centuries was a part 
of the public liturgies of the churches. 

The attitude of the Primitive Christians in 
prayer, is against the supposition that they used 
a prayer-book. AVhat, according to Tertullian 
(TertuL, Apol. c. 30.) was this attitude ? It was 
with arms and eyes raised towards heaven, and 
hands outspread, or it was kneeling and pro- 
strate with the eyes closed, to shut out from 
view every object that might divert the mind 
from its devotions ; or, as Origen expresses it, 
' closing the eyes of his senses, hut opening those of 
his mind.' Few facts in ancient history are 
better attested than this. The coins that were 
struck in honour of Constantine, represented 
him in the attitude of prayer. But how ? Not 
with a prayer-book in his hand, but with hands 
extended and eyes upturned, as if looking towards 
heaven. — (Euseb., Vit. Const.,) ' First, stereotype 
the mind and heart of man, and then is he pre- 
pared to express his-devotions in the unvarying 
letter of a liturgy.' — (Coleman's Church without 
a Bishop, chap. ii. pp. 319-352.) 

It is evident, from what we learn of the prim- 
itive Christians, that they appreciated the in- 
junction of our Lord, ' Men ought always to pray.' 
They practised this important duty, and ex- 
perienced its efficacy. Prayer is the language 
of the soul, through which, by the aid of his 
Spirit, our inmost wants are made known to 
God. Whether in secret aspirations, or clothed 



in words, the Spirit helps our infirmities, and 
through tlie mediation of our living Advocate 
with the Father, our prayers ascend as incense, 
and find access at liis throne of mercy. Our 
various sorrows and necessities, ever changing 
like the vicissitude of night and day, are too 
mingled and too mighty to be enumerated, and 
can only be expressed in the ejaculation, ' Lord, 
thou knowest all things.' When thus pressed 
in spirit, and pouring forth the unrestrained 
effusions of a full heart, in tlie name of Jesus, 
aided by his Spirit, how vain is the idea tiiat 
such warm petitions can be breathed to heaven 
through the cold formality of any prescribed 
rule ! In every individual there is some par- 
ticular hidden want, which the words of others, 
however beautifully and pathetically arranged, 
can never reach ; some peculiarly susceptible 
string in eveiy heart, that can vibrate only 
to the immediate touch of the Holy Spirit. — 


With steeds swift-winged and in harness bright. 
As he left the caverns of dreary Night, 
Rushed forth Old Time in his ivory car, 
Like a Tuscan king as he rode to war; 
And fearless and swift was his wild career, 
And Forty-Five was his charioteer. 

And fii-st they flew o'er the lovely isle, 
Where rural cots amid roses smile, 
Where the lanes are sliaded with arching trees, 
And flowers pay tribute to wandering bees, 
And athwart the meadows the hedges gleam, 
And the willow weeps by the murmuring stream. 


' Ah I many a change,' said Old Time, ' I see 
Since liere I journeyed with Thirty- Three. 
Where the cowslip smiled in its grassy bed. 
Now, cumbrous sleei)crs and rails are spread, 
And men hope soon they may see the day, 
When they equal the pace of Old Time, they say.' 

' 'Twill be long, T trust, ere that day ar^^'e,' 

As he lashed his steeds, muttered Forty-Five ; 

' And yet I would not so much complain, 

If men were not driven by lust of gain, 

If their minds' advance were but more their care. 

Nor better thoughts were the sleepers there.' 

' Ah! would,' said Time, 'they would ponder well 
The sober truths that my flight should tell; 
Nor all the tendrils of hope were curled 
Round the fading things of a transient world ; 
But 'twill soon be known what the end will be ; — 
Now guide thy steeds over yonder sea.' 

Then the charioteer with his guiding rein. 
His coursers turned o'er the western main ; 
And the mariner started as Time rushed by. 
And he marked his flight, and he heaved a sigh. 
For he thought from his friends he was far away, 
Of winds the sport and of waves the prey. 

At length they came to the distant shore. 
Where giant rivers their waters pour. 
Where Nature sows with a liberal hand. 
And wide outspread is the prairie land. 
And Freedom boasts of her own domain. 
As she binds the slave with the galling chain. 

With limbs untired the coursers flew 

Where beside the marshes the rice-plant grew ; 

And toiling there 'neath the sun's fierce ray. 

The slave was waiting the close of day; 

And he looked on Time, and he dropped a tear, 

Wlien thus to his lord spake the charioteer : 

' Ah ! when shall it be that the clanking chain 
Of the wretched slave shall be snapt in twain, 



Nor man .sluill look on lils follow-niaii 

As limlov tlio ciirso of a fearful ban ; 

But master and slave shall as brethren meet, 

'Neath the holy sliailc of the mercy-scat.' 

And Time looked dark, and he knit his brow, 

And to earth he turned as he vowed n vow, 

That never the land of the slave he'd bless 

With peace, and i)lcnty, and fruitfulncss ; 

But on it a grievous curse should be, 

Till the chain was burst, and the chained were free. 

And swift they flew from the slave-curst sliorc. 
And came wliere the waters of ocean roar, 
And many a vessel they passed whose sails, 
Outspread, were wooing the favouring gales, 
Till the isles of coral they reached, that lie 
Like glittering stars in a midnight slsy. 

And there the bananas their foliage spread, 

And the palm-tree raises its towering head, 

And the cotton-shrub and the lime-tree grow, 

And the sugar-cane, and the indigo, 

And the natives rest 'neath tlie shadowing trees, 

And are fanned by the breath of the odorous breeze. 

And gladly his course would Old Time have stayed. 

To repose awhile 'neath the cooling shade ; 

For now no more as in bygone days. 

The cannibal shout they were wont to raise. 

Nor the babe's last shriek met his startled ear ; 

When thus he spake to his charioteer : — 

' Good fellow, we may not our course delay, 

Or much 'twould huve charmed me awhile to stay, 

And grave the records for deathless fame 

Of conquests worthy a conqueror's name. 

Of conquests won by a holier sword. 

Than of Roman chief or of feudal lord. 

' All hail to those who thus dared to brave 
Tlie savage spear or the ocean grave ; 
Who bore the ills of a foreign clime. 
Nor looked for gifts at the liand of Time, 


But strove the torrent of sin to stem, 
And live for Him who had died for them ! ' 

Onward and onward tlie chariot flew 

O'er the glittering isles and the ocean blue, 

Till they reached a land which extending wide, 

Resounded with clamour from side to side. 

' Ah! here,' said Old Time, 'are the brave Chinese, 

Many as locusts, and busy as bees.' 

And here they gathered the tea with care, 
And sowed the rice by the streamlet there. 
And proudly at rest in the spacious bay 
The opium cargoes securely lay ; 
And Time looked dark, and he frowned severe. 
And thus he spake to the charioteer : 

' .\las! alas! for the crimes untold. 

That Britons dare in their thirst tor gold ! 

I'll write the truth upon History's page. 

And hand it down to the latest age, 

That soiled is the brightness of England's fame, 

By her lust for gold, and her deeds of shame I " 

And his voice was loud, and it drowned the roar 
Of the surge that broke on the Indian shore; 
And the echoes woke from their caves around, 
And the Ilimaleh mountains gave back the sound. 
And the cry of ' Shame ! ' like the lightning ran, 
To the farthest limit of Ilindostan. 

Swift flew the car o'er the Indian main, 
And sailed aloft over Ai-aby's plain ; 
Nor hill nor mountain its course forbids. 
And its shadow fell on the pyramids; 
And it hastened onward to proud Algier, 
When thus spake Time to his charioteer : — 

' Now haste, good fellow, and turn thy rein. 

For War is here with his hideous train; 

There's a scent of burning, and slaughter, and death, 

And the air is fouled wiili his pestilent breath; 

And Time as ho passes no eye would see. 

For here men sport with Eternity. 


' Oil! War, War, War, 'tis in vivin I l)rinfj 
Tiio snows of winter, the showers of spi'ing, 
The glorious lii^ht of tiic snminer days. 
Or the autumn sun with its chastened rays, 
For where tlie wlicels of tiiy cliariot pass, 
The earth is iron, her hills arc brass. 

' And hushed is the maiden's joyous strain. 
For her lover lies on tlie battle plain ; 
And the children weep at the cottage door,' 
For a father's care they will know no more; 
And the grandsire's eye is bedewed with tears, 
For the staff is broke of his failing years.' 

Meanwhile the reins of the charioteer 
Had guided the cour>crs from proud Algior, 
And they hastened towards the caves of Night, 
Where never hail entered the cheering light, 
Where mountains frown and where icebergs rise. 
And tlie cold of winter the sun defies. 

And straight they flew o'er the midland main, 
And soon were crossing tlie German plain. 
And there on the wing of the stormy blast. 
The shade of Luther before them passed ; 
But on Time's worn brow was a look of care, 
For Luther's spirit he saw not there. 

' Ah I shade,' he cried, • of the noble dead. 

From thy parent-land is thy spirit fled ? 

O ! still let it cheer as in days of old. 

For Religion is faint and her lieart is cold ; 

And the balm which Reason and Lcai'niiig give, 

Cannot make her spirit rejoice and live. 

' TIow long will it be ere her strength shall show, 
What healing streams from the gos|iel flow? 
Ere her children's hopes she shall plant above, 
And bind their faith in the bonds of love. 
And show the world in their lives combined, 
A lively zeal with a lowlv mind. 
IV. 2 c 


''Twas thus with one* whom in friendship's ghioni, 
I saw consigned to the recent tomb ; 
But I mourn lier not, for to her 'tis given 
Whom she loved on earth to behold in Heaven, 
And sing the praise of his bomidless love, 
With the jo^'ful choir of saints above. 

' She is gone ! she is gone ! but her honoured name 

To the latest age shall Old Time proclaim ; 

I'll sing her worth in her own loved isles, 

And where Jura frowns, and where Leman smiles, 

By the flowery banks of the wandering Seine, 

And the length and breadth of the German plain. 

' IIow bright the day when a Christian band 
Like her, shall traverse from land to land, 
And with zeal untiring, fan the glow 
She strove to kindle while here below, 
Till the truth her lips would so oft proclaim, 
Shall burst at length in a mighty flame ! ' 

' Ah '. bright indeed would that day appear,' 
As he lashed his steeds, said the charioteer; 
And he looked on his lord, and he heaved a sigh. 
For he saw that the caverns of Night were nigh, 
And he knew that Old Time he should drive no more. 
With the swift-winged coursers from shore to shore. 

And soon they entered the caves of Night, 
And awhile were hidden from mortal sight; 
And again like a Tuscan who rode to war, 
Rushed forlh Old Time in his ivory car; 
And fearless and swift was his wild career, 
And Forty- Six was his charioteer. 


Archbishop Seckeu said, ' Before any one can 
peruse tlie sacred Scriptures to profit, the Lamb 
must open tlie Seven Seals. 

* Elizabeth Fry. 




The following extract from Gough's History may 
induce some in the present day to view the con- 
duct of the early Friends in a different light 
tlian they may have been in the habit of doing, 
as regarded their going into places of worship: — 

At the first appearance of tliis peo])le (1049), 
several, as well as George Fox, thought it their 
duty to go to the public places of worship, to 
declare to the priests or people the burden of 
the word on their minds ; mostly, though not 
always, waiting till their worship was ended, 
and then delivering, or attempting to deliver, 
their sentiments in quietness, as far as I can 
discover from their accounts, and iu as few 
words as possible, for which they were often 
treated with great violence and outrage ; and, 
to palliate such treatment, irreconcileable to 
the professed purity of tliis period, or to the 
good order of civil society, great pains have 
been taken to describe their conduct in terms 
of aggravation to a heinous offence, and at this 
day it may seem to deserve censure. Let us 
take a retrospective view of the manners and 
principles of that age, and I think we may find 
some cause of excuse for their seeming intrusion. 

This people were not single at that time in 
their sentiments concerning the gospel liberty 
of prophesying, but the Independents also, as 

2 G 2 



■well as the Baj^tists, adopted the opinion that 
the ordained ministers or pastors had not, by 
any ordination of Christ, or the order observed 
amongst the primitive Ciiristiaus, an exclusive 
right of speaking in the church, but that all 
properly gifted might speak one by one. It 
had been, during the time of the civil war, and 
still continued to be no unusual practice, for 
laymen, soldiers, or others, to speak or preach 
in the public places of worship, and elsewhere, 
with the connivance, if not with the approbation, 
of the ruling powers. Oliver Cromwell, in his 
correspondence with the ministers of Scotland, 
in the following year after the battle of Dunbar, 
vindicates the practice. Oliver having made, 
to the ministers who had taken sanctuary iii 
the castle of Ediuburgli, or who had fled, an offer 
of free privilege to return to their respective 
parishes, the Scotch ministers, in reply, objected 
to his opening the pulpit doors to all intruders, 
by which means a flood of errors was broken 
in upon the nation ; to which Oliver answered, 
' We look upon you as helpers of, not lords over 
the faith of God's people. Where do you find 
in Scripture that preaching is included within 
your function ? Thougli an approbation from 
men has order in it, and may be well, yet he 
that liath not a better than that hath none at 
all. I hope He that ascended up on high may 
give his gifts to whom he pleases, and if those 
gifts be the seal of mission, are you envious 
though Eldad and Medad prophesy ? You know 
■who hath bid us covet earnestly tiie best gifts. 


but chiefly that wc may prophesy, which the 
apostle explains to be a speaking to instruction, 
edification, and comfort — this tiie instructed, 
edified, and comforted can best tell the energy 
and effect of. Indeed, you err through mistake 
of the Scriptures. Approbation is an act of 
convenience in respect to order, not of necessity, 
to give faculty to preach the gospel. Your pre- 
tended fear lest error should step in, is like the 
man that would keep all wine out of the country 
lest men should be drunk. It will be found an 
unjust and unwise jealousy to deny a man the 
liberty he hath by nature, upon a supposition 
he may abuse it.' And, in answer to the gover- 
nor's complaint — that men of secular employ- 
ments had usurped the office of tlie ministry, to 
the scandal of the reformed churches — he queries, 
'Are you troubled that Christ is preached ? Doth 
it scandalize the reformed churches, and Scot- 
land in particular ? Is it against the covenant ? 
away with the covenant if it be so. I thought 
the covenant and these men -would have been 
willing that any should speak good of the name 
of Christ; if not, it is no covenant of God's ap- 
proving, nor the Kirk you mention the spouse 
of Christ.' 

By this, it appears evident that a participa- 
tion of the laity in ministerial offices was not 
only allowed, but patronized by some of the 
leading men of tliat time. 

2 g3 




It is a lamentable trait in human .nature, that 
there was not a sect establislied at the Refor- 
mation that did not avow, as part of their re- 
ligious duty, the horrible necessity of destroying 
some of their fellow-creatures (mostly by burn- 
ing alive), on account of what thoy severally 
termed lieretical tenets. The Quakers were 
absolutely the first Christian community, since 
the Middle Ages, who disavowed all destructive- 
ness in their religious precepts. How furiously 
these friends to their species were persecuted, 
the aunals of New England can tell; and Great 
Britain, though more sparing of their blood, was 
equally wasteful of their lives, for they were 
penned, by Cromwell and Charles II., by hun- 
dreds in jails ; such jails as were provided then, 
rife with malignant fevers and every horror. 
James II. declared to the Hon. Mr. Bertie that 
lie had released 1230 Quakers, confined in dif- 
ferent jails, at liis accession. — {Orifjmal Letters 
of Bertie, Eetrospeclive Review, Second Series, 
quoted in Strickland's Queens of England.) 


You place the whole stress of your inquiries 
upon reason ; I am far from discarding reason, 
when it is enlightened and sanctified, but spiri- 
tual tilings must be spiritually discerned, and 
can be received and discerned no other way, 
for to our natural reason they are foolishness ; 



1 Cor. ii. 14, 15; Matt. xi. 25. Tliis certain 
something I can no more describe to tliosc who 
have not experienced it, than I could describe 
the taste of a pine-apple to a person who had 
never seen one. But scriptural proofs might 
be adduced in abundance, yet not so as to give 
a solid conviction of it till wo actually experi- 
ence it. . . . Upon your present plan how can I 
liope to satisfy you, though even St. Paul asserts 
it, that the carnal mind is enmity against God? 
You will readily agree with me to the proposi- 
tion as it stands in St. Paul's wor-ds, but I think 
you will not so readily assent to what I have 
no more doubt than of my own existence is the 
sense of it — that the heart of man, of any man, 
every man, however apparently amiable in his 
outward conduct, however benevolent to his fel- 
low-ci'catures, however abundant and zealous in 
his devotions, is hy nature enmity against God ; 
not indeed against the idea he himself forms of 
God, but against tlie character which God has 
revealed of himself in the Scriptures. Man is 
an enemy to the justice, sovereignty, and law 
of God, and to the alone method of salvation he 
has appointed i?i the gospel. . . . Whatever is of 
the flesh is flesh, and can rise no higher than 
its principle. — (Newton's Gardiplwnia.) 

If the principles of the Christian religion were 
well rooted in the hearts of all mankind, what 
excellent fruit would they produce I There 



■would be no more wars, nor rumours of wars. 
Kingdom would not rise against kingdom, nor 
nation against nation ; but all princes would be 
at peace with their neighbours ; and their sub- 
jects at unity among themselves, striving about 
nothing but which should serve God best, and 
do most good in the world. — (Holt's Extracts.) 


The bird that soars on highest wing, 
Builds on the ground her lowly nest ; 

And she that doth most sweetly sing 
Sings in the shade when all things rest : 

In lark and nightingale we see 

What honour hath humility. 

When Mary chose the ' better part,' 

She meekly sat at Jesus' feet; 
And Lydia's gently-opened heart, 

Was made for God's own temple meet : 
Fairest and best adorned is she, 
Whose clothing is humility. 

The saint that wears heaven's brightest crown, 

In deepest adoration bends ; 
The weight of glory bows him down. 

Then most, when most his soul ascends ; 
Nearest the throne itself must be 
The footstool oi humility. — (Montgomery.) 


It is apparent that lust of power, and the sense- 
less quarrels of princes, are generally the causes 
of wars, and of the devastations and slaughter 
of their subjects attending them. About 100 



years ago, tlie King of Pegu made war against 
the King of Siain, with an army of above 
1,000,000 of foot, 200,000 horse, 5000 elephants, 
3000 camels, &c. The cause of this war was 
to take two white elephants from the King of 
Siam ; and to do the like from the King of 
Pegu, the Kings of African and Tangu waged 
war with him. — {Considerations on War.) 


We should hold the truth with firmness, but it 
should also be in love ; otherwise, zeal for ortho- 
doxy may dictate such violent measures, as shall 
more distract the church, and injure the cause 
of Christ, than false teachers tliemselves could 
do. But by faith which ivorketh by love, we grow 
up into Clu'ist in all things ; and acting in a 
believing loving spirit, every minister and Chris- 
tian, as a part of that body of which Christ is 
the head, contributes to the proportion, union, 
and prosperity of the whole.' 


I AM not inclined to view things in a gloomy 
aspect. Christianity must undergo a renovation. 
If God has sent his Son, and has declared that 
he will exalt him on his throue, the earth and 
all that inherit it are contemptible in the view 
of such a plan I If this be God's design, pro- 
ceed it does and proceed it will. Christianity 
is such a holy and spii'itual affair, that perhaps 



all human institutions are to be destroj'ed to 
make way for it. Men may fashion things as 
they will ; but, if there is no effusion of the 
Spirit of God on their institutions, they will 
remain barren and lifeless. Many Christians 
appear to have forgotten this. — (Cecil.) 


He that thinks little of himself can bear to be 
thought little of by others. — (Serle.) 


One hundred and eight cane chairs were taken 
from William Hughes of No. 7, Scott's Yard, 
Cannon Street, London, on the 22d of the seventh 
month, 1845, by R. Ibbett, auctioneer, 167, 
Fleet Street, for a demand of £9, by a warrant 
procured by Ford Hale of Cannon Street, and 
Frederick Barry of Turnwheel Lane, church- 
wardens of St. Mary Bothaw. In the spring of 
1844, sixty chairs were taken from the same 
individual for tithes, together 168 in about 
fifteen months. 

There is no church at all in the parish. 


In 1 834, the monthly meeting of Hobart Town, 
in Van Dieman's Land, received an application 
for membership from a person who adopted the 



principles of Frionds on conscientious grounds. 
The father of this person became convinced of 
the accordance of the principles of Friends with 
tlie gospel, in consequence of reading a copy of 
Barclay's Ajyology, which he purchased in Lon- 
don from a person who had seized it from a 
Friend for an ecclesiastical demand. — (James 
Backhouse's Journal.) 

YEAR 1G90. 

J. Besse gives the names of 366 Friends, as the 
total number who died in the British dominions, 
' under sufferings for their religious testimony,' 
from the first rise of the Society, to the year 
1690. What proportion does this number bear 
to that of those who generally died more violent 
deaths, in the persecutions under Queen Mary? 


In 1685, at the close of the reign of Charles II., 
the number of Friends imprisoned in Cornwall 
at one time was twenty-eight ; of whom nineteen 
had been premunired, and had remained under 
confinement for two years, two had been im- 
mured for three years, and one for seven years. 
In the following year they were all discharged 
under a general pardon from King James II. 
It is worthy of remark that, in those times of 
severe persecution, the Society prospered and 


greatly increased in numbers, but as suffering 
ceased there was an evident decline. 



By this vessel a committee embarked, appointed 
bj the Yearly Meeting in London, to go over to 
America, to endeavour to heal a breach amongst 
Friends in that country. 

The vessel sails, and bears away 

Our brethren from our view. 
But O ! may He still be their stay 

"Who can their strength renew, 
And give them power when storms assail, 
To trust in Him who ne'er will fail. 

May He convey them safely o'er 

The ocean's stormy wave. 
Give them to fetl still more and more 

That He is strong to save ; 
Then, may lie gi-ant them full success, 
And every effort deign to bless. 

And when — their work of love complete — 

They cross the boisterous main. 
May He permit them yet to meet 

Their much loved friends again. 
And on their heads the blessing pour 
Promised to those who peace restore. 


The Voelry is distinguished by being printed in Italics. 

Aberdeen, Disinterment of 

a child ut, . . . 235 
Abrahnm, .... IGl 
Acrostic, Alphabetical, . 277 
Act respecting Oaths, . 257 
Address to the King of 

Sweden, . . 263 
„ to the Uiyhlnnds, by 
Tkos. Wilkinson, 
Admonishing the great, 

Faitlifnlness in. 

„ benefit of, 
African youth, . 
Alexander the Great, 

97, 128, 131, 130, 282 
„ Emperor, Visit to, 
by T. ShilUtoe, 

128, 131 
„ „ on the Holy 
Allen, WiUiam, 
Alphabetical Acrostic, 
Alsop, Robert and Phebe, 
Ancient Meeting-honses in 

Arbitrary power avowed 

and exempUfied, 
Authors, &c., quoted: — 
Allen, Wm., 319, 321; 
Besse, frequently; Ball, 
Gowan, 5, 6; Buck, fre- 
quently; B. Barton, 148, 
2.34; Balfour, C.L., 237; 
Bevan, J. G., 255; Burke, 
Edmund, 329; Bertie, 
354; James Backhouse, 








358; Cowjier, 39; Thos. 
Clarkson, 44, 107; Cas- 
pipini, 60, 322; Tliomas 
Chalkley, 72; Cope, fre- 
quently; Chalmers, Dr., 
157; CecU, 357; Eras- 
mus, 17; Edmmidson, 
Wm., 143; Fox, George, 
40, 246; E. Fry, 312; 
Gimiey, J. J., 150; Mrs. 
Grant, 286; Horsley, Bp., 
(i; Hill, Rowland, 17; 
Hale, Judge, 39; Hartley, 
Thomas (Rector of Win- 
wick), 63; Howitt, Rich., 
71; Holland, John, 107; 
Hodgson, Jr., William 
(Memoirs), 145; Home, 
Bishop, 202; Kelt\-,M.A., 
59, 100, 108, 109, 162; 
Leadbeater, 42, 56; Lamb, 
Charles, 236; Locke, 295; 
Montgomery, 177, 356; 
Newton, 354; Opie, A., 
152; Percival, 37; Pen- 
ington, Isaac, 108; Peiin, 
illiam, 148, 149, 279; 
Pascal, 338; Roby (Seven 
Weeks in Belgium) 88; 
Serle, 358; Seeker, Arch- 
bishop, 350; Sigoumey, 
81; Sewell, 203; Shep- 
herd, H., 224, 294; Shake- 
speare, 296 ; Timpson, 
" Rev.,"T., 303; Wiffen, 
J.H.,120; Whitticr,203; 
Wilkinson, Thomas, 306; 



Woolniaii, 333, 339; 
' Ycai-aiey, 162, 317. 
Autographs {see List of Plates) 

Aztcre, Sash, The, . . 107 

Bacon, Christopher, . 37 
Baking cakes on the hearth, 158 
Bales, Thomas, . . 147 
Banishment of Daniel and 
Provided South- 
wick, . . 203 
„ Lines on the above, 203 
Baptismal Regeneration, . 142 
Barbadoes, sufferings of 

Friends in, . . . 321 
Barbarism, gross, . . 235 
Barclay's Apology, . . 359 

Bartram, John, the Ameri- 
can botanist, 178, 199 
„ Letter to by a Rus- 
sian gentleman, 179 
„ Gold medal pre- 
sented to, . 201 
„ Silver cup, do. do. 
by Sir Hans 
Sloane, . .199 
Benevolence, Practical, . 157 
Benezet, Plain dealing of, 158 
Bertie on the Quakers, . 354 
Bible, the, . . .255 
Bishop rebuked, . . 36 
Bishops of Dublin, T. Shil- 

litoe's visit to, . .141 
Bogue, David, an Inde- 
pendent minister, his ex- 
hortation on Peace, . 228 
Brayton, Patience, letter 

from a clergyman to, .11 
Breaches, a Healer of, . 43 
Breaking forth of the IVuth, 5 
Brutal treatment of Friends 
by the students at Oxford 
and Caml)ridge, . . 268 
Buck, Charles, on Persecu- 
tion, . . . .94 
Bunyan apprehended at a 
meeting, . . . 245 


Burial, Lines on a Silent 

Meeting at a, . . 99 
Burke, Bilnumd and Richd. 

Sliackleton, . 327 

„ Letter from to 

Mary Leadbeater, 329 
Bumyeat, J. and G. Fox 
kindly received by an In- 
dian King, . . .75 
Burrough, Edw., his suffer- 
ings and death in pri- 
son, . . . .170 
Burying ground, on a Mo- 
ravian, .... 177 

C;esar, Augustus, on dress, 295 
Cambridge and Oxford stu- 
dents, brutal treatment 
of Friends by, . . 208 
Candler, Jolm, extract of a 

letter from, . . .286 
Caste and distinction in 

society, . . .302 
Catanissa, ancient meeting- 
house at, . . .18 
Cathedral worship, . . 88 
Caton, William, . . 18 
Chalkley, Thomas, account 

of his sou George, . 72 
Children, our conduct to- 
wards, . . 333 
„ our duty towards, 339 
Cluistian liberality, . . 63 
„ miracle of love, . 11 
Christianity, practical effect 

of, 110 

Church, primitive, prayers 

of the, . . 342 
„ and state man, a, . 228 
Churchman, John, his visits 
to Indians of Wyoming, 
&c., .... 32 
Clarkson, Thomas, letter 
from to Henry I., King 
of Hayti, . . .44 
Clergyman, letter from to 
Patience Brayton, . 1 1 




Coale, Josiali, letter from 

to G. Fox, ... 24 
Coekiidc, national, incon- 
venience from not wear- 
ing, . . . .340 
Coleridge on war, . . 34 
Collins, Rebecca, . . 97 
Commendable practice, . 319 
Common Prayer Book, . 6 
„ Bp. Horsley on the, 6 
Communion with God, . 255 
„ with Heaven, . 39 
Condescension, infinite, . 224 
Convincement of a military 

officer, . . . 146 

Con\'incements, . . 156 
Colloid, free labour, . . 144 
Covetousness, . . .310 
Creator, glory of the, . 268 
Crook, John, remarkable 

occurrence in the life of, 82 
Crowley, Ann, . . .224 
Ciutis, Ann, . . . 151 

David, the key of, . . 350 
Denmark, King of, Thomas 

Shillitoe'a visit to, . 126 
Desperate characters, visit 

to by T. Shillitoe, . .141 
Dewsbury, William, . . 260 
Disinterment of a child at 

Aberdeen, . . . 235 
Distinction and caste in 

society, . . .302 
Diversions, . . . 144 
Diversity of opinions, unity, 295 

Divinity of Christ, early 

Friends on the, 310 
„ Clement Lake on 

the, . . 310 

Do good, .... 60 
Dobbs, Dr., Anecdote of, . 314 
Dress, Sir Matthew Hale 

on, . . . 295 
„ Augustus Caesar 

on, . . . 295 
Drewry, Sarah, . . 312 

Drewry, Sarah, lines hy, . 314 
Drinking houses, visits to 
by T. Shillitoe, 

132, 134, 1.37 
to 600 in Dublin, 138 
Dudley, John, brief account 

of, . . . 66 
„ lines on the death 

of, . . . 71 

Edmundson, William, in 

Barbadoes, . . .269 
Eldon, Lord, . . .228 
Ellwood, Thos. and Milton, 

109, 110 
Emancipated slaves, meet- 
ing of, . . . .286 
Emperor Alexander on the 

Holy Spirit, . 130 
„ T. Shillitoe's visits 

to, . 128, 131 
Estimate of a little with 

God's blessing, . . 202 
Eternity, testimony respect- 
ing, . . . .304 
Evil, good out of, . . 358 

Faithfulness, . . .279 
„ in admonishing the 

great, . .123 
False imprisonment, . . 248 
Female sorely beaten and 

imprisoned to death, . 79 
Fenelon's resignation, . 257 
Fifth monarchy insurrec- 
tion, . . . .243 
Flight of time, . . .345 
Forgiveness, spirit of, ex- 
emplified, . . 78 
„ of injuries, . . 151 
Formality, . . .149 
Fothergill, Dr., death of, . 249 
Fox, George, testimony re- 
specting, . 4 
„ reproves people for 
securing the 
wrecks of vessels, 



not caring to save 
tlie lives of the 
passengers, . -10 
Fox, Geo., on a free Gospel 

ministry, . 59 

„ and John Bnmyeat 
kindly received by 
an Indian king, . 75 
„ incideiitsrelatingto, 100 
,, Justice Pearson ad- 
dresses judges of 
assize in behalf 
of, . . . 103 
„ extract from a paper 
of, addressed to 
" the King," . 2-16 
France, Queen of, acknow- 
ledges Quakers to be phi- 
losophers, . . . 169 
Freely ye have received, 

freely give, . .59 

Friend, Uie ever present and 

Almiijhtij, . . .143 
Frieuds, their faith ground- 
ed on the New 
Testament, . 23 
„ works in which 
their faith is 
clearly set forth, 23 
„ early, and modern 
professors, the 
difference clearly 
seen by others, . 80 
„ seven imprisoned 
in York Castle 
for tithes in 1795, 153 
„ lines addressed to 

the above, . . 154 
„ abused by John 

Urchart, . .155 
„ and the rebellion in 

Ireland, . . 237 
„ meeting, descrip- 
tion of, by a Rus- 
sian gentleman, . 19(i 
„ bnital treatment of 
by students of 

Oxford and Cam- 
bridge, . . 2GS 
Friends and Indians, re- 
marks on. . . 2SG 

„ carlv, on the Divin- 
ity of Christ, . 310 

„ sutt'erings of, in 

Barbadoes, . 321 

„ deaths of, in prison, 

up to 1090, . 359 ■ 

„ early, on their con- 
duct in entering 
and preaching in 
the established 
places of worship, 351 

„ prospered and in- 
creased in times 
of persecution, . 359 

„ principles not im- 

derstood, . . 22 

„ and negroes, . 193 
Fruits of Christianity, . 355 
Fry, Elizabeth, . . .303 

Gallic, WilUam, . . 1 
George III., T. Shillitoe's 

A-isit to, . .124 
„ Mary Knowles' visit 

to, with her son, 168 
„ Stanzas repeated on 

the occasion, . 169 
„ IV., T. Shillitoe's 

visit to, . .127 
Glorv', tnie and false, . 296 
Good out of e\'il, . . 358 
Gordon, Priest, suddenly 

cut off, . . . .24 
Gray, George, a well quali- 
fied, though illiterate 
preacher, . . .145 
Great Western, lines sug- 
gested by the departure 
of the, from Liverpool. 
Sth month, 1845, . . 360 
G relict, Stepheu, . 43 

Grievous abuse, and retri- 
bution, .... 155 



Httlc, Sir Matthew, his 

ilres3, . . 295 
„ Judge, on prayer, . 39 
Hayti, King of, letter from 

T. Clarkson to, . 44 
„ his reply, . . 48 
Heaven? What is, . . 302 
„ communion with, . 39 
Hide, Matthew, a repentant 

persecutor, . . .162 
Highlands, Thomas Wilkin- 
son's address to, . , 111 
Hireling exposed, . . 166 
Holy Spirit, teaching o£, 
and blessed effects 
of obeying its re- 
qiiirings, . . 75 
„ Emperor Alexander 

on the, . . 130 
Homwood, Nicholas, dies 
in Mziidstone jail, after 
eleven years' imprison- 
ment for tithes, . . 271 
Horsley, Bishop, on the 

Prayer Book, . . 6 
Hubberthorn, Richard, his 

death in prison, . . 175 
Hughes, William, excessive 
seizure of chiurch-rates 
from, . . . .358 
Humihty, proof of, . . 358 

Imprisonment, protracted 
one, for not swear- 
ing, . . . 113 
„ of seven Friends in 
York Castle in 
1796, for tithes, 153 
„ and death of a faith- 
ful conscientious 
man, . . . 155 
„ false, of N. Rick- 

raan and wife, . 248 
„ for marriages, . 255 
„ for demands of M. 256 
„ of eleven years for 

tithes, . 271 


Indian hospitality, . 75 

Indians, remarks ou 

Friends, . . 286 
„ of Wyoming, &c., 

John Cluu-ch- 

man's visits to, . 32 
„ respect for the name 

ofPenn, . .112 
Injuries, forgiveness of, . 151 
Intolerance, Puritan, . 202 

Jones, Samuel, and brother, 
suffer death in the 

Irish rebeUion, . 296 

„ Rebecca, . . 319 

Jose, Nicholas, . . 250 

Judgment on a persecutor, 24 

Keith, Sir John, awakened, 1 
„ George, . . .14 
King of Prussia, T. ShUU- 

toe's visit to, . 127 
„ Denmark, do. do. 126 
„ Sweden,interviews 
of W. Allen and 
S. GreUet with, 260 
„ Address to the, . 263 
Kingswood, T. Shillitoe's 
visit to an organized com- 
pany of desperate cliarac- 
ters at, . . .142 
Knowledge, . . .148 
„ of the Lord, the 
earth shall be 
filled with the, 294 
Knowles, Mary, amusing 
visit of, with her 
son, to the King, 
Queen, and Royal 
Family, . . 168 
„ Stanzas repeated on 

the occasion, . 169 

Lake, Clement, on the Divi- 
nity of Christ, . . 310 

Lamb from the flock, fetch- 
ing a, . . . . 158 
a 3 



Lauib, Charles, on a 

(iuakers' meeting, . . 236 
Ijiwsom, Wilfi-id, . . 102 
Leadbeater, Mary, letter 

from Edmuud Burke to, 329 
Liberality, Christian, . 63 
Life, trials of, . . .3 
Liraig, moderation in, . 157 
Lord, one, one faith, one 

baptism, . . .223 
Love, Christian miracle of, 11 
„ imiversal, . . 60 
„ inseparal)le from the 

Truth, . . .357 
Lower, Thomas, . . 166 

Magistrate, cruel, awak- 
ened, .... 1 

Ma^strates of Dublin, T. 
Shillitoe's visit to, . 1-11 

Markam, George, a priest, 
imprisons Friends, . 153 

Marriages, imprisonment 

for, . . .255 
„ on equal, . . 144 

Marriott, Sarah, . 49 

Martha aud Man,-, . . 209 

Martyr for tithes, testi- 
mony of a, . . . 271 

MartjTdom of two yoiuig 
men during the Irish re- 
bellion, . . . .296 

'Mayor of Dublin, T. Shilli- 
toe's visit to, . . 141 

Medal, a gold one pre- 
sented to John Bartram, 201 

Meeting-house, ancient one 

at Catawassi, . IS 
„ at Lower Merion, 19 

Marion meeting-house, . 19 

Methodist's testimony re- 
specting George Fox, . 5 

!Michels, LlewcUyn Cupido, Si 

Military officer, convince- 
ment of, ... 146 

Milton's Paradise Regained, 
origin of, . . . 109 

Ministry, gospel, true 
ground and 
authority of, 6 
„ „ George Fox on 

a free, . 59 
„ „ not dependent 
on human 
learning, . 145 
Miracle of love, . .11 
Moderation in h\ing, . 157 
Moracian buryinij-ijround, 

on a, . . . 177 

Mounung apparel, . .51 

Negro boj-, . . .84 
„ Christiauitv-, ques- 
tion of, in Barba- 
does, in the 17th 
cennuy, . . 269 
Negroes, Friends and, . 193 
None their end obtain, . 71 

Oaths, preamble and penal- 
ties of an Act respect- 
ing, .... 257 

Opinions of others, defer- 
ence to the, . . .333 

Papist's testimony to the 

efficacy of silence, . .149 
Paraihsc Kegained, origiu 

of Milton's, . . .109 
Peace, a word far, . . 233 
„ an exliortation on, 
by David Bogue, 
an Independent 
minister, . . 22S 
Penn, AViliiam, . . . 107 
„ makes interest at 
Court for his 
Friends, . . 36 
„ his politeness, . 332 
„ Indians' respect for 

the name of, .112 
„ Springet, . . 28:5 
i'cimsylvania, origiu of the 

name, . . ll.'i 



Pc'iiiisylvania, extent of the 

proviuce, . 113 
Perils of the sea, escape 
from, to suflfer coiifine- 
luent in a prison, . . 18 
Persecuting spirit reproved, 37 
Persecution under prett.-nce 
of Sabbatii-break- 
in?, ... 2 
„ remarks on, by C. 

Buck, . . 94 
„ and violence, 172, 173 
„ Friends prospered 
and increased in 
time of, . . 359 
Persecutor, judgment on a, 24 
„ the repentant, . I(i2 
Persecutor's warrant, . 321 
Piety, an example of early, 72 
Pitman, John, imprisoned 

for not s« earing, . .113 
Pixley, Walter, . . .209 
Politeness, true, the off- 
spring of rehgion, . . 332 
Poverty in riclie.-i, and 

riches in poverty, . . 1 
Prayer, .Judge Hale on . 39 
Prayer-book, Bp. Horsley 

on, .... 6 
Prayers of the primitive 

church, . . . . 342 
Preachers, illiterate, 108, 145 
Presenation, extraordin- 
ary, ... . 278 
Priest confounded. . . 59 
„ a merciless, . . 256 
Priests' warning proves a 
good advertise- 
ment, . .61 
,. Scotch, convinced, 15G 
Prince Regent, T. Shilli- 

toe's visit to the, . .125 
Profession, practice should 

correspond with, . . 282 
Prop/iL'less, the Quaker, . 29 
Providence, . . . 260 
I'rovidential deliverance, . 170 

Providential deliverance of 

Pierre Kobinel, . 315 

Lines on t/ie above, 317 

Puritan intolerance, . . 202 

Quaker prophetess. . . 29 
Uuakers, Bertie on the, . 35 1 

„ traders in rc(iuest, 1U6 

„ preacher, an olil, 
taken prisoner 
and discharged, 146 

„ meeting, by Charles 

Lamb, . . 239 

„ the Queen of 
France acknow- 
ledges them to be 
philosophers, . 169 

Hebellion in Ireland, 

Friends and the, 237 
„ martyrdom of two 
yomig men dur- 

ing the, . . 296 
Hefuf/e, the only, . . 114 
Religion, natural and re- 
vealed ; a vision, . . 237 
Religious retirement, . 321 
Repentant persecutor, . 16'J 
Resignation, remarkable in- 
stance of, . . . 257 
Retribution, . . .155 
Reynolds, Richard, and his 

workman, . . . .303 
Richardson, John, .170 
Riches in poverty, and po- 
verty in riches, . . 1 
Rickman, N., and wife, im- 
prisoned falsely, . . 248 

Robincl, Pierre, providen- 
tial deliverance of, 31 5 
Lilies on the above, 317 
Rusfiian gentleman's de- 
scription of a Frieiuls' 
meeting, . . . 196 
„ gentleman, a letter 
fromiine, (ii -cril)- 
ingavisitto Joliu 




Bartram, the bot- 
anist, . .170 

Sabbath-breaking, persecu- 
tion under pretence of, . 2 
Sansome, Oliver, . .114 
Scarth, Philip, convinced, . 156 
Scotch priests convinced, . 1 56 
Scolt, Job, lines written in 

his journal, . . . 156 
Scripture, illustrations of, 158 
Scriptures a divinely autho- 
rized record, . . .150 
Shackleton, A., of BaUitore, 323 
and Ed. Burke, 327 
„ Michael Kearney, 327 
Shilhtoe's visit to Geo. III., 124 
,, the Prince Reg:ent, 125 
„ King of Denmark, 126 
„ George IV., . .127 
„ King of Prussia, . 127 
„ Emperor Alexan- 
der, . . 128, 131 
„ drinking houses, 

132, 134, 137 
„ a Roman Catholic 

bishop, . . 135 
600 drinkinghouses 
in Dublin, . 138 
„ the mayor, sheriff, 
magistrates, Ro- 
mish and Pro- 
testant bishops 
of Dublin, . 141 
„ an organized com- 
pany of desper- 
ate characters, . 141 
Silence, the Papist's testi- 
mony to the efficacy of, 149 
- Silver cup presented to John 
Bartram by Sir Hans 
Sloane, . . , .199 
Sin, the height of folly. . 62 
Slavery, . . . .256 
Sloane, Sir Hans, silver cup 
presented by, to John 
Bartram, . . .199 


Society, retrospect of our, 53 
Sons of my people, to the, . 120 
Southwick, Daniel and Pro- 
vided, sentenced 
to banishment, 
and to be sold in 
Virginia or Bar- 
badoes, . . 203 
Lines on the above, 203 
Spirit, the, and the imder- 

standing, . . . 354 
Sports and diversions, . 144 
Students of Oxford and 
Cambridge, brutal treat- 
ment of Friends by, . 263 
Suffering, cases of, for 

tithes, in Kent, . . 270 
" Sufferings, meeting for," 

rudiments of, 41 
„ and death of Ed. 
Burrough in 
prison, . . 170 
„ in Oxfordshire, 267 
„ of John and De- 
borah Wynn, 56 
„ of Friends in 

Barbadocs, . 221 
Swear, excessive seizure for 

refusing to, . . . 285 
Swearing, protracted impri- 
sonment for not, . .113 

Taylor, Thomas, . . 89 
Thunder-storm, lines com- 
posed during a, . .241 
Time, thefirjht of, . .345 
„ on the right employ- 
ment of, . . 72 
Times, on these fearful, . 152 
Tithes, seven Friends im- 
prisoned in York 
Castle for, in 1795, 153 
„ cases of suffering for 

in Kent, . . 270 
„ testimony of a mar- 
tyr for, . . 271 
To-day and to-morrow, . 84 



Toioer Street school at 
York, lines addressed to 
those who compose the, . HOG 
Trajan, Emperor of Rome, 268 
Treaty, the unl)rokeii, . 82 
I'rials of life, ... 3 
Truth, breaking forth of 
the, .... 5 

Understanding, the, and 

the spirit, . 334 

Union, Christian, . . 318 
Unity, religious, 17 
Urchart, James, a persecu- 
tor, awakened, . .155 

Victory, . . . .81 
Vincent, Wm., imprisoned 

for a demand of Art., . 25(i 
Violence and persecution, 

172, 173 

Walker, Dr., his inconven- 
ience from not wearing a 
national cockade, . 
War, Coleridi/e on, . 
„ curse of, . 
„ general cause of. 
Warrant, the persecutor'.s, 
Weakness, source of human, 
Wilkinson, Thomas, his ad- 
dress to the High- 
lands, . 
„ lines addressed to 
those who coin- 





pose the Toioer 
Street school at 
York, . . 306 
Wisdom, best, to guide, . 312 
^Vise, O that my people 

were, &c., . . . 333 
Wood, Joseph, his episllo 

of tender love, . . 333 
Woolley, Ed., iuiprisoned, 155 
Words, I love to feel where 

tliey come from, . . 32 
Worship does not consist 
of singing, music, 
and other per- 
fonnances, . . 88 
„ on true, . .148 
„ danger of letting 
out the mind into 
the consideration 
of biisiness or 
pleasure during 
the time of, . 319 
Wyini, John and Deborah, 

sutl'erings of, . . . 5t> 
Wyoming Indians, Joan 
Churchman's visit to, . 32 

Yearly Meeting, rudiments 

of, . . . . . 41 
York Castle, seven Piiends 
imprisoned in, for 
tithes, ill 179.'), . 153 
Lines addressed to 
the above, . .154 
Youth, .... 3U1 



Friends' Meeting-house at Lower Merion, Pennsyl- 
vania — -facing title-page. 

Fac-simile Autographs of Friends; viz., — 

Afercy Ransom, Joan Brocksopp, John Salkeld, 
Elizabeth Hooton, George Rofe, Griffith Owen, 
James Parnell, Thomas Story, John Church- 
man, John Pemberton,/aan(7 ... 94 

Fac-simile Autographs of Friends ; viz., — 

John Bartram, Humphry Marshall, facing . 178 

Silver Cup ; presented by Sir Hans Sloane to J ohn 

Bartram, yocOTi/ ...... 199 

Gold Medal ; presented to John Bartram, /acw^ . 201 

Facsimile Autographs of Friends; viz., — 

John Woolman, Nicholas Wain, Robert Fair- 
man, Thomas Chalkley, Thomas Lurting, 
John Bumyeat, Alexander Arscott, William 
Shewen, Daniel Offley, Mordecai Yamall, John 
Whiting, 294