Wherefore he examined all of us (whom he did not personally know), asking our names, and the places of our respective habitations: but when he had them, and considered from what distant parts of the nation we came, he was amazed. For George Whitehead was of. Westmoreland, in the north of England; the grocer was of Essex; I was of Oxfordshire; and William Penington was of London.

Hereupon he told us, that our case looked ill, and he was sorry for it: "For how," said he, "can it be imagined that so many could jump altogether at one time and place, from such remote quarters and parts of the kingdom, if it was not by combination and appointment?"

He was answered, that we were so far from coming thither by agreement or appointment, that none of us knew of the others coming, and for the most of us, we had never seen one another before; and that therefore he might impute it to chance, or, if he pleased, to Providence.

He urged upon us, that an insurrection had been lately made by armed men, who pretended to be more religious than others; that that insurrection had been plotted and contrived in their meeting-house, where they assembled under color of worshipping God; that in their meeting-house they hid their arms, and armed themselves, and out of their meeting-house issued forth in arms, and killed many; so that the government could not be safe, unless such meetings were suppressed.

We replied, we hoped he would distinguish and make a difference between the guilty and the innocent, and between those who were principled for fighting, and those who were principled against it; which we were, and had been always known to be so: that our meetings were public, our doors standing open to all comers, of all ages, sexes, and persuasions; men, women, and children, and those that were not of our religion, as well as those that were; and that it was next to madness for people to plot in such meetings.

He told us, we must find sureties for our good behavior, and to answer our contempt of the King's proclamation at the next General Quarter Sessions, or else he must commit us.

We told him, that knowing our innocency, and that we had not misbehaved ourselves, nor did meet in contempt of the King's authority, but purely in obedience to the Lord's requirings, to worship Him, which we held ourselves in duty bound to do, we could not consent to be bound, for that would imply guilt, which we were free from.

"Then," said he, "I must commit you;" and ordered his clerk to make a mittimus: and divers mittimuses were made, but none of them would hold; for still, when they came to be read, we found such flaws in them, as made him throw them aside, and write more.

He had his eye often upon me, for I was a young man, and had at that time a black suit on: at length he bid me follow him, and went into a private room, and shut the door upon me.

I knew not what he meant by this; but I cried in spirit to the Lord, that he would be pleased to be a mouth and wisdom to me, and keep me from being entangled in any snare.

He asked me many questions concerning my birth, my education, my acquaintance in Oxfordshire, particularly what men of note I knew there: to all which I gave him brief, but plain and true answers, naming several families of the best rank in that part of the country where I dwelt.

He asked me how long I had been of this way, and how I came to be of it; which, when I had given him some account of, he began to persuade me to leave it, and return to the right way, (the Church, as he called it.) I desired him to spare his pains in that respect, and forbear any discourse of that kind, for that I was fully satisfied the way I was in was the right way, and hoped the Lord would so preserve me in it, that nothing should be able to draw or drive me out of it. He seemed not pleased with that, and thereupon went out to the rest of the company, and I followed him, glad in my heart that I had escaped so well, and praising God for my deliverance.

When he had taken his seat again at the upper end of a fair hall, he told us he was not willing to take the utmost rigor of the law against us, but would be as favorable to us as he could; and therefore he would discharge, he said, Mr. Penington himself, because he was but at home in his own house: and he would discharge Mr. Penington of London, because he came bu as a relation to visit his brother: and he would discharge the grocer of Colchester, because he came to bear Mr. Penington of London company, and to be acquainted with Mr. Isaac Penington, whom he had never seen before: and as for those others of us, who were of this country, he would discharge them, for thee present at least, because they being his neighbors, he could send for them when he would. "But as for you," said he to George Whitehead and me, I can see no business you had there, and, therefore I intend to hold you to it, either to give bail, or go to gaol."

66

We told him we could not give bail: " "Then," said he," "you must go to gaol;" and thereupon he began to write our mittimus, which puzzled him again; for he had discharged sog many, that he was at a loss what to lay as the ground of ourt commitment, whose case differed nothing, in reality, from theirs whom he had discharged.

At length, having made divers drafts (which still George Whitehead showed him the defects of), he seemed to be weary of us; and, rising up, said unto us, "I consider that it is grown

late in the day, so that the officer cannot carry you to Aylesbury_to-night, and I suppose you will be willing to go back with Mr. Penington; therefore, if you will promise to be forthcoming at his house to-morrow morning, I will dismiss you for the present, and you shall hear from me again to-morrow."

We told him we did intend, if he did not otherwise dispose of us, to spend that night with our friend Isaac Penington, and would, if the Lord gave us leave, be there in the morning, ready to answer his requirings: whereupon he dismissed us all, willing, as we thought, to be rid of us; for he seemed not to be of an ill temper, nor desirous to put us to trouble, if he could help it.

Back, then, we went to Isaac Penington's; but when we were come thither, O, the work we had with poor John Ovy! He was so dejected in mind, so covered with shame and confusion of face for his cowardliness, that we had enough to do to pacify him towards himself.

The place he had found out to shelter himself in was so commodiously contrived, that, undiscovered, he could discern when the soldiers went off with us, and understand when the bustle was over, and the coast clear: whereupon he adventured to peep out of his hole, and in a while drew near, by degrees, to the house again; and, finding all things quiet and still, he adventured to step within the doors, and found the friends, who were left behind, peaceably settled in the meeting again.

The sight of this smote him, and made him sit down among them; and after the meeting was ended, and the friends departed to their several homes, addressing himself to Mary Penington, (as the mistress of the house), he could not enough magnify the bravery and courage of the friends, nor sufficiently debase himself. He told her how long he had been a professor, what pains he had taken, what hazards he had run, in his youthful days, to get to meetings; how, when the ways were forelaid, and passages stopped, he swam through rivers to reach a meeting; "and now," said he, "that I am grown old in the profession of religion, and have long been an instructor and encourager of others, that I should thus shamefully fall short myself, is a matter of shame and sorrow to me."

Thus he bewailed himself to her: and when we came back, he renewed his complaints of himself to us, with high aggravations of his own cowardice; which gave occasion to some of the friends tenderly to represent to him the difference between profession and possession, form and power.

He was glad, he said, on our behalfs, that we came off so well, and escaped imprisonment.

But when he understood that George Whitehead and I were liable to an after-reckoning next morning, he was troubled, and wished the morning was come and gone, that we might be gone with it.

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

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

This done, we took our leave of the family, and one of another; they who were for London taking horse, and I and my companion, setting forth on foot for Oxfordshire, went to Wycombe, where we made a short stay to rest and refresh ourselves, and from thence reached our respective homes that night.

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

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

When I was ready to set forth, my friend Isaac Penington was so kind to send a servant, with a brace of geldings, to carry

me as far as I thought fit to ride, and to bring the horses back, I, intending to go no farther that day than to Wycombe, rode no farther than to Beaconsfield town's end, having then but five miles to walk. But here a new exercise befel me, the manner of which was thus:

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

I thereupon informed him what a rogue in law is, viz., one who, for some notorious offence, was burnt on the shoulder; and I told them they might search me if they pleased, and see if I was so branded. A vagabond, I told them, was one that had no dwelling-house, nor certain place of abode; but I had, and was going to it, and I told them where it was: and for a beggar, I bid them bring any one that could say I had begged, or asked relief.

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

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

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

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

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

I was uneasy that I was left alone in the house, fearing lest, if any thing should be missing, I might be suspected to have taken