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1 
 
A 
 
 Series of Bioqraphical Sketched. 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANCES ANNE BUDGE. 
 1 1 
 
 [REPRINTED FROM "THE FRIENDS' QUARTERLY EXAMINER."] 
 WITH PREFACE BY EDWARD BACKHOUSE. 
 
 Wl 
 
 WE ARE .NOTHING, CHRIST IS ALL." 
 
 ^HT'^^''^^'^^ George Fox. 
 
 5j^ Off THB^-^ 
 
 IIVERSITT] 
 
 ^^^^I^^^ONDON: 
 
 SAML. HARRIS & Co., 5, BISrfOPSGATE WITHOUT 
 
 1877. 
 

 LONDON : 
 
 BARRETT, SONS AND CO., PRINTERS, 
 
 SEETHING LANE, B.C. 
 
pFlVERSITY 
 
 CON TENTS 
 
 
 William Caton 
 
 I 
 
 John Audland and his Friends ... 
 
 28 
 
 Edward Burrough 
 
 ... 53 
 
 Elizabeth Stirredge 
 
 ... 72 
 
 William Dewsbury and his Words of Counsel and 
 
 Con- 
 
 solation 
 
 ... 92 
 
 John Crook ' ..." - 
 
 1 04 
 
 Stephen Crisp and his Sermons 
 
 ... 119 
 
 John Banks ... ... 
 
 ... 136 
 
 Humphry Smith and his Works 
 
 ... 157 
 
 Mary Fisher 
 
 ... 185 
 
 The Martyrs of Boston and their Friends 
 
 ... 208 
 
 Passages in the Life of John Gratton ... 
 
 ... 238 
 
 James Dickenson and his Friends 
 
 ... 251 
 
 William Edmundson 
 
 ... 285 
 
 William Ellis and his Friends 
 
 ... 316 
 
 Richard Claridge 
 
 ... 347 
 
 Thomas Story ... 
 
 ... 372 
 
 Gilbert Latey and his Friends ... 
 
 ... 401 
 
 George Whitehead 
 
 ... 428 
 
♦. 
 
 PP^EfACE. 
 
 
 The Memoirs and Sketches of the lives of Friends 
 of the Seventeenth Century, which have, from time 
 to time, appeared in the pages of the Friends' Quar- 
 terly Examiner, are, in this volume, presented as a 
 whole, in the hope of thus obtaining for them a more 
 extended circulation. They contain an account of 
 the religious principles of the Early Friends, as well 
 as narratives of the sufferings they underwent in 
 maintaining the testimonies cornmitted to them by 
 the Lord Jesus Christ; and it is hoped that their 
 example may in^uence «s, their successors, with 
 boldness to maintain the Truth as it is in Jesus, and 
 keep unfurled before the Churches the same holy 
 banner that He has given to ws also, "to be dis- 
 played because of the Truth." 
 
 As a contribution towards the modern literature of 
 the Society of Friends, these memoirs are designed 
 to revive the memory of those who were valiants in 
 their day ; and to inform such as may not be con- 
 versant with the history of Friends two centuries 
 ago ; for they remind us of the costly price our fore- 
 fathers paid — in blood, in loss of liberty and of this 
 world's treasure — to procure for us the religious free- 
 dom we enjoy.* 
 
 • For more complete details of the foundation and progress of the 
 Society of Friends we would refer to William Sewel's jlistory, which 
 is doubtless to be found in most of the libraries attached to our 
 meeting-houses; to George Fox's Journal; Besse's "Sufferings of 
 Friends." &c. 
 
VI ' . PREFACE. 
 
 Many are little aware of the faith, patience, and 
 intrepidity, with which the Friends of the first gene- 
 ration, not only endured insults and injuries, but 
 persevered in their Christian course, triumphing over 
 every difficulty, notwithstanding the virulence with 
 which the opponents of vital religion persecuted 
 them, in many cases even unto death. From the 
 year 1662 to 1697 (inclusive) — namely, in the reigns 
 of Charles II., James II., and William and Mary — 
 John Field informs us that thirteen thousand, five 
 hundred and sixty-two Friends suffered imprison- 
 ment in England; while, if we add the persecutions 
 of the Commonw^lth, under Oliver and Richard 
 Cromwell, and of New England, and those of Ire- 
 land and Scotland, frorn 1650 to 1697, we find the 
 aggregate of these sufferers for conscience' sake, 
 numbers more than twenty -three thousands : and 
 that the total of those who died in gaol, or were 
 executed, is three hundred and eighty-eight. 
 
 The volumes published by Joseph Besse containing 
 the account of the " Sufferings of Friends," show 
 the terrible trials they underwent in those days; 
 when, locked out of their meeting-houses, or their 
 meeting-houses having been destroyed and razed to 
 the ground. Friends held their assemblies for worship 
 in the streets, or upon the ruins, notwithstanding the 
 , furious attacks of the soldiery, who broke their swords 
 ^ and muskets upon their heads, sometimes leaving 
 fifty on the street most shamefully wounded and 
 streaming with blood. Four were hanged in New 
 England by the bigoted professors of religion there : 
 one was squeezed for hours in a torture-hole in the 
 
PREFACE. Vll 
 
 rock in Chester Gaol, called " Little Ease," in conse- 
 quence of which he died ; while let it not be for- 
 gotten that many honourable and educated women 
 (among them Elizabeth Horton, the first Quaker^ 
 minister of her sex), were stripped naked to the 
 waist, by order of Governor Endicott and the Council 
 of Massachusetts, and mercilessly flogged through 
 three towns in succession. Endicott and his fellows 
 raged against the life of religion manifested by the 
 Friends ; though they only came into their jurisdic- 
 tion to preach the Gospel, and specially to demand 
 the repeal of their unrighteous laws, which made it 
 penal for a Friend to enter the Colony. For this 
 foijr Friends suffered death; for the Governor and 
 Court of Assistants at Boston, who professed to have 
 left Old England for the sake of liberty to worship 
 according to their consciences, " knew not what 
 spirit they were of." 
 
 Thus our forefathers bought the Truth; and, 
 having bought it, sold it not : for amid all their 
 afflictions, they held that nothing in the whole world 
 could compare with the glorious inheritance they 
 had obtained. That inheritance was a heavenly 
 one ; even the kingdom of heaven, into which they 
 had entered ; and they valued its holiness and rest 
 beyond the price of rubies or gold, or the treasures 
 of this world, or liberty, or life itself. 
 
 Well might they prefer the heavenly country of 
 which they had even upon earth become citizens to 
 anything the world could offer. William Dewsbury 
 testifies to his own experience, and says, " My gar- 
 ments are washed and made white in the blood of 
 
Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 the Lamb, who hath led me through the gates . . . 
 into the new Jerusalem, . . . where my soul now 
 feeds upon the Tree of Life . . . that stands in 
 the Paradise of God." Again and again the Early 
 Friends record their faith in the cleansing blood of 
 the Lord Jesus, and their own blessed experience of 
 its power; testifying that Christ had become their 
 personal Saviour from the power of sin, and that 
 eternal life was theirs ; " Yea," says Francis Howgill, 
 " I am entered into the true rest, and lie down with 
 the lambs in the fold of God, where all the sons [of 
 God] do shout for joy, and all His saints keep hol}^- 
 day." 
 
 Their exalted views as to the perfection of Chris- 
 tianity (bringing full salvation to every one that will 
 receive it), caused them to express themselves in 
 glowing language, worthy of the theme they dwelt 
 upon ; but not more so than the glory of the Gospel 
 of Christ manifested to His saints deserves. George 
 Fox, in his Journal, says, " Now was I come up in 
 spirit, through the flaming sword, into the Paradise 
 of God; all things were [become] new . . . being 
 renewed into the image of God by Christ Jesus." 
 
 Ann Dewsbury, too, near her close, could say, " I 
 have no guilt upon my spirit. In the covenant of 
 light and life, sealed with the blood of Jesus, I am at 
 eternal peace with the Lord." Stephen Hubbersty 
 — encouraging Friends at a time when they were 
 undergoing deep suffering from the violence of per- 
 secution — says, " It is the enjoyment of the sweet 
 presence of God will encourage you to stand. . . . 
 for we are come, blessed be God 1 to the primitive 
 
PREFACE. IX 
 
 Spirit, the Spirit of Christ which was in the primi- 
 tive w^orshippers. . . . The Lord arm you with 
 patience and boldness ; and let all these things drive 
 you nearer and nearer to your Beloved. The Lord 
 sanctify you to Himself, that you may be like the 
 Holy Apostles, who, when charged to speak no more 
 in Christ's name, would not obey, but chose rather 
 to obey God. Let this be your choice : and ages 
 and generations to come will bless God for you. 
 , . . The Wonderful Counsellor preserve you single- 
 hearted, and keep you over all storms : a calm will 
 come again; and the joy of the Lord, which is as the 
 joy of harvest, fill your souls with joy and peace in 
 believing." 
 
 John Audland desires that Friends " may be 
 grounded, rooted, builded, established; and in the ever- 
 lasting covenant of life, find peace ; where you may rest 
 in the City of God, whose walls are salvation, and 
 whose gates, praise." Ambrose Rigge, also, after 
 ten years' incarceration in Horsham Gaol, could say, 
 *' I have been made both able and willing to bear 
 all, for the testimony of Jesus, and the word of God ; 
 not counting my life dear unto me, that I might 
 finish my testimony with joy ; being counted worthy 
 not only to believe, but also to suffer for that ancient 
 doctrine, faith, and practice, for which the ancient 
 Christians suffered the loss of their liberties, and, 
 many of them, of their lives." 
 
 Their expositions of Scripture truth, and their 
 application of the types and figures to their own 
 experience, as well as to that of the Church, are also 
 extremely interesting. They frequently quote from 
 
 A 2 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 the Book of Revelation (as well as from all parts of 
 the Old and New Testaments) ; but, as regards the 
 Apocalypse, George Fox observes, that too many re- 
 ligious people view it as a sealed book, whereas it 
 contains very precious truths, and vividly sets forth 
 many things which it is most important for us to 
 appreciate. He tells us respecting the New Jeru- 
 salem, " I saw the beauty and glory of it, the length, 
 the breadth, and the height thereof, all in complete 
 proportion. I saw that all who are within . . . the 
 grace, and truth, and power of God, which are the 
 walls of the City, are within the City, . . \ and have 
 right to eat of the Tree of Life, which yields her 
 fruit every month, and whose leaves are for the 
 healing of the nations." This cannot be gainsaid ; 
 because the New Jerusalem, we are told by the 
 Apostle in describing his vision of it, is "the Bride 
 the Lamb's Wife " ; that is to say, is the Church of, 
 the redeemed ; which Church is one, whether on 
 earth or in heaven. Thus George Fox held, that all 
 converted persons, who attend to, and dwell within, 
 the limitations of the grace and truth of God, and 
 live in the power of the Holy Ghost, are in the 
 Church, and belong to the family and household of 
 God while here below. 
 
 Would that we (who are the successors of the 
 Early Friends), might understand from living ex- 
 perience, as they did, the blessedness of being at 
 rest in the kingdom of heaven : and, like them, know 
 for ourselves that Paradise is regained. Our first 
 parents were driven out of Eden (after they had 
 sinned) lest they should put forth their hands, and 
 
PREFACE. XI 
 
 take also of the Tree of Life, and eat, and live for 
 ever." We also, if born again, are entered into 
 the Paradise of God : and, like the Early Friends 
 may eat of the glorious Tree of Life ; for the Tree of 
 Life is Christ. 
 
 They entered into rest : we too may enjoy the rest 
 of the everlasting Sabbath, of which the Jewish 
 Sabbath was but a symbol. This is the true rest ; 
 and whether on earth or in heaven it is one. The 
 saints on earth, and the saints in heaven, are at rest 
 in Christ ; and drink of the River of the Water of 
 Life ; which glorious River is the one Holy Spirit, 
 into which all the redeemed of the Lord drink. 
 
 We think there is a blessed future for the Society 
 of Friends: if only our souls were possessed of a holy 
 ambition to do the will of God on earth, as it is done 
 in heaven : and to work in the Lord's vineyard. 
 That was the ambition which possessed the whole 
 soul of the Early Friends. Edward Burrough was " a 
 son of thunder and consolation," who, (to his friend 
 Francis Howgill's knowledge,) " scarcely spent one 
 week to himself in ten years"; while Ames and 
 Caton, and a host of others, would gladly have 
 spread the '* Gospel net " over all. Such was the 
 zeal which clothed their spirits, that they were men 
 " who married as though they married not, and pos- 
 sessed as though they possessed not." They stood 
 in dominion over the world, the flesh, and the Devil. 
 The language of William Dewsbury is, ** I can never 
 forget the day of His [the Lord's] power, and blessed 
 appearance, when He first sent me to preach His 
 everlasting Gospel. ... for this I can say, I never 
 
Xll PREFACE. 
 
 since played the coward, but joyfully entered prisons 
 as palaces, telling mine enemies to hold me there as 
 long as they could : and in the Prison House I sang 
 praises to my God, and esteemed the bolts and locks 
 put upon me as jewels ! . . . And this I have further 
 to signify, that my departure draweth nigh : blessed 
 be my God, I am prepared, I have nothing to do but 
 to die, and put off this mortal tabernacle, this flesh 
 that hath so many infirmities ; but the life that 
 dwells in it transcends above all; out of the reach of 
 death, hell, and the grave ; and immortality, eternal 
 life, is my crown for ever and ever. Therefore you 
 that are left behind, fear not, nor be discouraged, but 
 go on in the name and power of the Lord, and bear 
 a faithful and living testimony for him in your day ; 
 and the Lord will prosper His work in your hand, 
 and cause His Truth to flourish and spread abroad, 
 for it shall have the victory. No weapon formed 
 against it shall prosper; the Lord hath determined 
 it shall possess the gates of its enemies, and the glory 
 and the light thereof shall shine, more and more, 
 until the perfect day." 
 
 Would that wc^ the successors of these " Valiants 
 for the Truth," may do our part towards the fulfil- 
 ment of William Dewsbury's prophecy ! 
 
 Edward Backhouse. 
 
 Sunderland, 
 
^.nitals of tljc (JBarlg Jfrkitbs. 
 
 WILLIAM CATON. 
 
 " I know that no visible created thing can satisfy that which 
 longeth to be refreshed with the living streams which issue out from 
 the fountain which watereth and refresheth the whole city of God. . . 
 A living fountain hath the Lord set open for Judah and Jerusalem ; 
 and all that are bathed and washed in it come to enter into the holy 
 city." — W. Caton. 
 
 It was on a winter day, early in 1652, that George 
 Fox unexpectedly, and for the first time, arrived at 
 Swarthmoor Hall, near Ulverston, the beautifully 
 situated residence of Judge Fell, who was then absent 
 on his circuit. This visit proved a very eventful one 
 to not a few of the members of that large house- 
 hold. 
 
 William Caton was then in his sixteenth year, and 
 had for some time resided at the hall, sharing the 
 educational advantages of the Judge's only son, who 
 was taught by a clergyman, a relative of the Catons ; 
 he soon became a favourite of the whole family, so 
 that difference in social position was lost sight of. 
 He shared George Fell's chamber, and was his com- 
 panion in field-sports and fishing as well as in study. 
 From early childhood he had at times been the sub- 
 ject of serious impressions, and had been very care- 
 fully brought up by his parents. The sudden change 
 
2 WILLIAM CATON. 
 
 in his style of living had by no means the unfavour- 
 able effect which might have been feared, for he says 
 that his heart was softened whilst thus living in 
 "much pleasure, ease, and fulness .... forasmuch 
 as Providence had cast me into such a noble family, 
 where there were such sweet children, with whose 
 company I was more than a little affected. In those 
 days there remained an integrity in my heart towards 
 God, and often did I call upon His name." 
 
 In order to be alone whilst engaged in prayer he 
 would, of a morning, linger in the bedroom until his 
 companion had gone down-stairs. He was much ex- 
 posed to temptation during a few months spent by 
 George Fell and himself at a country school, but, he 
 writes, " The Lord was wonderfully gracious to me, 
 and many times, when I have deserved nothing but 
 stripes from Him, hath He broken and overcome my 
 heart with His Divine love." At times his soul 
 ardently longed for communion with God, and he 
 found that he could not appease its cravings by 
 taking notes of sermons or writing paraphrases of 
 them, though such efforts were commended by the 
 family at the Hall. 
 
 Much did he marvel at the unfashionable dress 
 and simple manners of their guest from Fenny Dray- 
 ton, " Yet something in me," he writes, " did love 
 him and own his testimony. And I began to find the 
 truth of what he spoke in myself ; for his doctrine 
 tended very much to the bringing of us to the light, 
 with which Christ Jesus had enlightened us withal, 
 which shined in our hearts and convinced us of sin 
 and evil ; and into love with that and obedience to 
 
WILLIAM CATON. 3 
 
 that he sought to bring us, that thereby, through the 
 Son, we might be brought into unity and covenant 
 with the Lord." 
 
 Deep, also, and lasting, was the effect of George 
 Fox's ministry on the hearts of the mistress of 
 Swarthmoor Hall (a descendant of the martyr, Anne 
 Askew), her young daughters and their governess, as 
 well as on the steward, Thomas Salthouse, the house- 
 keeper, and most of the servants ; and when Judge 
 Fell was crossing the sands of Leven, on his home- 
 ward journey, he was told that his family were all 
 bewitched. His son, too, we find, was " somewhat 
 touched with the same power," which helped to 
 smooth the path of William Caton, who was experi- 
 <incing in his own soul the power of the truths which 
 they had heard, though he confesses that they often 
 " extinguished the good " in themselves; '* but," he 
 adds, " such was the love of God to me in those 
 days, that I was as surely pursued with judgment 
 as I was overtaken with folly." At times he would 
 retire to some solitary spot that he might seek for 
 spiritual refreshment by drawing near to God. 
 
 After awhile his mental conflicts unfitted him for 
 hard study, and Margaret Fell, (the Judge's wife), 
 with Christian sympathy and womanly penetration, 
 divined the cause of his inability to write themes and 
 make Latin verses ; she, therefore, suggested that he 
 should leave school and occupy himself in teaching 
 her daughters and acting as her secretary. Her 
 strengthening and soothing influence must have been 
 very helpful to him, for he describes this period as a 
 Jiappy time : he found congenial employment in writ- 
 
4 WILLIAM CATON. 
 
 ing for her of " precious and wholesome things per- 
 taining to the Truth : whereby [he continues] I came 
 to have good opportunities to be conversant with 
 Friends, in whom the life of righteousness began to 
 bud and spring forth, and who grew in love and 
 unity, with which my soul was exceedingly affected ; 
 and I desired very much to be one with them in it." 
 Meanwhile the good work which his Saviour had 
 begun in his soul was carried on more rapidly perhaps 
 than he was himself aware of. 
 
 "When I was about seventeen years of age," he 
 writes, *' the power of the Lord God did work mightily 
 and effectually in me to the cleansing, purging, and 
 sanctifying of me. . . . And then I began to be broken, 
 melted, and overcome with the love of God which sprang 
 in my heart, and the Divine and precious promises that 
 were confirmed to my soul. Oh ! the preciousness and 
 excellency of that day ! Oh ! the glory and the blessed- 
 ness of that day ! how or wherewith shall I demonstrate 
 it, that they that are yet unborn might understand it, and 
 give glory unto the Lord Jehovah ? " 
 
 This most merciful visitation was shared by many 
 others of the household, and very closely were their 
 hearts drawn together ; whilst such was their desire 
 to unitedly worship Him who had done such great 
 things for them that they frequently met for this 
 purpose in the latter part of the evening, when other 
 members of the family had retired to rest. Great 
 was William Caton's disappointment when, in con- 
 sequence of George Fell's wish to keep early hours 
 — or, it maybe, to avoid late meetings— he had some- 
 times to accompany him to his chamber, whilst his 
 heart remained with the Httle company below, for^ 
 
WILLIAM CATON. 5 
 
 he says, the refreshment and benefit of these seasons 
 was indescribable. " If," he adds, "we had suffered 
 loss in the day-time when we had been abroad about 
 our business or the like, then we came in a great 
 measure thus to be restored again, through the love, 
 power, and mercy of our God, which abounded very 
 much unto us." 
 
 The young heir of Swarthmoor Hall had become 
 indifferent to such matters, and William Caton was 
 not sorry when, in consequence of his being sent to 
 another school, they were separated. It was true 
 that this might stand in the way of his worldly pre- 
 ferment, but we cannot wonder that this seemed of 
 little moment to one who could say, " I was often 
 overcome with the love of my Father, which did 
 exceedingly break and ravish my heart, and so I 
 know it was with others of that family ; and of the 
 overflowings thereof did we communicate one to 
 another to the comforting and refreshing one of 
 another ; and truly willing we were to sympathise 
 and bear one with another, and in true and tender 
 love to watch one over another. And oh ! the love, 
 mercy, and power of God, which abounded to us, 
 through us, and among us, who shall declare it ? " 
 Many Friends at a distance, hearing how remarkably 
 the Lord's power was manifested in this family, 
 visited Swarthmoor Hall, so that occasionally visitors 
 from five or six counties would stay at the house at 
 one time. This gave especial satisfaction to William 
 Caton, who, in consequence of frequently writing for 
 Margaret Fell, had much intercourse with them. 
 <jeorge Fox he regarded as a tender-hearted father. 
 
t) WILLIAM CATON. 
 
 who, not content with " having begotten him through 
 the Gospel," endeavoured to lead him onwards in the 
 path of the just ; whilst his " entirely beloved friend^ 
 Margaret Fell," cared for him as if he had been her 
 child. 
 
 But these peaceful days at Swarthmoor were but 
 the preparation for his life labours ; freely had he 
 received of the grace of God, and freely was he to 
 share it with others. George Fox says, *' He was- 
 one like unto Timothy, who was an example in 
 innocence, simplicity, and purity in his life and con- 
 versation, after he was converted; for that did preach, 
 as well as his doctrine, in the churches of Christ." 
 William Caton himself thus describes his call to the 
 ministry : *' Seeing the darkness and ignorance so 
 great in which people were involved, my spirit was 
 stirred within me, and my earthen vessel came to be 
 filled with love to their souls, and with zeal for God 
 and His Truth. And about that time I began to 
 know the motion of His power and the command of 
 His Spirit ; by which I came to be moved to go to 
 the places of public worship." Although, at that 
 period, it was not a rare event for laymen to address 
 a congregation at the conclusion of the usual service, 
 it can be no matter of surprise that a youth of seven- 
 teen should shrink from thus publicly testifying 
 against the sins of preachers as well as hearers. But 
 he had given his heart to his Redeemer, and hence- 
 forth there was but one way for him to walk in — 
 narrow it might be, and yet an indescribably blessed 
 one. " Wherefore when I saw it must be so," he 
 says, *' I put on courage in the name of the Lord ; 
 
WILLIAM CATON. 7 
 
 and having faith in Him which stood in His power I 
 gave up to His will." Then he realised the fulfil- 
 ment of Christ's promise that He would be with him; 
 perplexing doubts and the fear of man were alike 
 taken from him, and ability was given him — stripling 
 though he was — to speak as '* one having authority." 
 Some were willing to hear him ; others, " as brute 
 beasts," fell upon him ; but the Lord preserved him 
 from evil, and filled his heart with peace. 
 
 Besides these Sabbath services he often preached 
 in market places, seldom knowing what he should 
 say until he reached the spot, yet never lacking 
 words wherewith to clothe His Master's message. 
 *' His word," he writes, "did often powerfully pass 
 through me, and never did I go about any service 
 for the Lord in which I was faithful but I always 
 had my reward with me." Blows and beatings, 
 stocks and stonings, he gave little heed to, for he 
 found in the enjoyment of God's love that which 
 made more than full amends for all ; and whenever 
 he was most deeply tried, the tenderness of the Lord's 
 love was most clearly experienced. He alludes also 
 to the great help afforded him from the consciousness 
 of the warm attachment of his fellow-believers. 
 
 In the intervals of his ministerial service he indus- 
 triously employed himself at Swarthmoor, still find- 
 ing true spiritual refreshment with the household 
 there, as they " spake often one to another and the 
 Lord hearkened and heard." But soon he found that 
 notwithstanding ** the glorious days there," the time 
 was at hand when he must bid his friends farewell, 
 and go forth, at his Saviour's bidding, to work in 
 
O WILLIAM CATON. 
 
 more distant vineyards. Judge Fell was very un- 
 willing for him to leave his house, but his wife, with 
 truer affection, overcame her first feelings of regret, 
 and freely gave him up. And yet, although they felt 
 that they could still be near one another in spirit, it 
 was amidst the freely-flowing tears, as well as the 
 fervent prayers of the family, that the parting took 
 place, on a winter day, when he was about eighteen. 
 He travelled chiefly on foot and — bearing this in 
 mind — his diligence in his holy calling was, it has 
 been remarked, almost beyond belief. When twelve 
 months had elapsed he had visited, in addition to 
 many English counties, some parts of Scotland, 
 Calais, Rotterdam and other Dutch cities. In Lon- 
 don he found several ministering brethren from the 
 north, and, together, they laboured night and day. 
 ** The word of the Lord grew mightily," he says, 
 *' and many were added to the faith." Here he met 
 with John Stubbs, who soon became one of his 
 dearest friends. The previous year he had left the 
 army in consequence of the effect produced on his 
 mind by the preaching of George Fox ; a holier war- 
 fare lay before him in many parts of Europe, in 
 Egypt and America : he was well skilled in the 
 classics, and a remarkable Oriental scholar. Like 
 William Caton he greatly loved and esteemed 
 Margaret Fell. In one of his letters to her he says, 
 *' How often in my distress hath the Lord raised one 
 up to minister in season to me, both by word and by 
 writing. . . . Truly He hath made thee, even thee, 
 as His angel and messenger these two times to 
 publish peace unto me." 
 
WILLIAM CATON. 9 
 
 Whilst William Caton and John Stubbs were hold- 
 ing meetings in Kent, they were brought before the 
 magistrates at Dover, who decided that a penalty 
 should be inflicted on any one who gave them 
 lodging : they were consequently turned out from 
 the apartments which they had occupied at the inn. 
 In this time of need they were befriended by a shoe- 
 maker, named Luke Howard, who having been told 
 on the previous Sabbath that a Quaker was preaching 
 in the churchyard, at once went there, and seemed to 
 find a sermon even in William Caton's countenance 
 and demeanour ; he protected him from abuse and 
 insult, and carefully noticed the house which he en- 
 tered, in order that he might visit him when the 
 darkness of the winter evening should screen him 
 from observation. But he soon grew bolder, for 
 when the innkeeper no longer dared to entertain the 
 young preachers, Luke Howard said to them, " Go 
 home to my house, for I care not for the rulers nor 
 mayor either ; " and he refused to give them up when 
 asked to do so by the constables. 
 
 Two meetings were held in his house, of which the 
 latter was regarded by him as the turning-point of 
 his life. When his guests left the town he walked 
 two or three miles with them, and gave them the 
 names of some places on the coast, and also of some 
 persons who he thought might render them assist- 
 ance : so much did he feel at parting with them that, 
 even after returning to Dover, he found it difficult to 
 restrain his tears. Deep inward trials were for a 
 time his portion, but the Saviour to whom he had 
 fled for refuge suffered not his faith to fail, and 
 
10 WILLIAM CATON. 
 
 when almost ready to despair these words came as 
 a heavenly message to his soul,—" I will cleave the 
 rocks and mountains that the redeemed of the Lord 
 may come toZion." Casting all his care upon Christ, 
 henceforth hope was the anchor of his soul, though 
 tempest after tempest might befall him. Thus, when 
 describing his sixteen months' confinement in Dover 
 Castle for attendance of meetings, he writes : " I 
 had perfect peace, joy, and content in it all ; and the 
 Lord made it good unto me both within and with- 
 out."* Before leaving Dover John Stubbs and 
 William Caton had remarked, in a letter to Francis 
 Howgill and Edward Burrough, '' A fire is kindled 
 among them which cannot be easily quenched." Nor 
 were they mistaken in this belief, for Dover was one 
 of the first places in Kent where, in accordance with 
 their advice, a meeting was established by those whO' 
 were convinced of the truths which they preached. 
 During some years this meeting was held in silence, 
 unless visited by a travelling minister, but Luke 
 
 * Luke Howard gives the following beautiful description of the 
 consolation afforded him one night during this, or another, imprison- 
 ment : " On the Third-day of the Eighth Month, 1661, in the night- 
 watch, upon my bed of straw and chaff, in the common jail of Dover 
 Castle, as I lay in a comfortable sleep and rest, the hand of my God 
 fell upon me, and His sweet and comforting presence awakened me, 
 and so continued with me unto the morning-watch ; in which time 
 the living presence of my God was with me and the comfortable 
 presence of His Holy Spirit accompanied me ; so that my soul was 
 filled with His living presence as with a mighty river which did over- 
 flow the banks, so that nothing appeared but joy and gladness, and 
 the streams of His everlasting virtue ran through me exceeding 
 swift. . . This is my God: I have waited for Him, and His appear- 
 ance to me is as the morning without clouds, and His beauty hath 
 taken my heart, and His comeliness hath ravished my soul, and with 
 His exceeding riches hath He adorned my inward man, and His ever- 
 lasting strength is my salvation, even the Son of His love." 
 
WILLIAM CATON. II 
 
 Howard, at whose house the Friends at first as- 
 sembled, says that the Lord was their Teacher, and 
 manifested His power and presence in their midst. 
 
 Whilst at Lydd, William Caton and his companion 
 were kindly entertained at the house of Samuel 
 Fisher, a very eminent Baptist minister, to whom 
 they had been directed by Luke Howard. In his 
 earlier life he had been a clergyman, but had resigned 
 his living from conscientious motives. At first he 
 did not fully acknowledge the influence which the 
 ministr>- of his guests had on him ; but when, after 
 visiting some neighbouring places, they had returned 
 to Lydd, and another Baptist minister publicly 
 preached against them and their doctrine, Samuel 
 Fisher arose and said, ** Dear brother, you are very 
 near and dear to me, but the Truth is nearer and 
 dearer : this is the everlasting Truth and Gospel ! " 
 To the preacher's exclamation, *' Our brother Fisher 
 is also bewitched," he made no reply ; in the course 
 of that year he joined the Society of Friends. For 
 ten years he diligently laboured as a minister at 
 home and abroad, and also as an author, often suffer- 
 ing severe persecution for the cause which was dearer 
 to him than life. He died in the White Lion jail, in 
 Southwark, after a long imprisonment. 
 
 So grateful were some of the open-hearted Kentish 
 people to William Caton and John Stubbs, who had 
 been enabled to labour very powerfully amongst 
 them, that they urged them to receive gold, which 
 was declined, with the reply that it was not theirs. 
 but them they sought. But at Maidstone a different 
 reception awaited them ; they were sent to the House 
 
12 WILLIAM CATON. 
 
 of Correction, deprived of their Bible, money, &c., 
 then stripped, and, with their necks and arms placed 
 in stocks, desperately whipped until bystanders wept 
 at the sight. After irons and large clogs of wood had 
 been laid on them they were ordered to work, and 
 because they did not were kept without food for some 
 days. The women who lived in the house showed 
 their pity by privately offering them refreshment, 
 which they did not think it well to accept. Before 
 they were set at liberty a few things were restored 
 to them ; but they were dismissed from the town in 
 contrary directions, each accompanied by constables, 
 to whom (so states an old MS. of Friends of East 
 Kent) " their heavenly images and sober lives and 
 words preached so much that they finally suffered 
 them to travel alone whither they pleased." 
 
 Neither knew where the other had gone, and great 
 was their pleasure at meeting in London : but soon 
 they felt bound to return to Maidstone and, though 
 fearing the consequences of so bold a measure, their 
 faith did not fail, and they were preserved from further 
 persecution. On re-visiting other towns in Kent they 
 were cheered by the belief that their patient suffering 
 had tended to confirm the faith of those to whom 
 their ministry had been an effectual message. From 
 Dover William Caton crossed to Calais, where he had 
 what he styles " a very gallant opportunity " at a 
 mansion with some of the chief inhabitants, a Scotch 
 nobleman acting as his interpreter. Soon afterwards 
 he accompanied John Stubbs to Holland. They 
 meant to sail from Yarmouth, whither they had 
 walked from Dover, often travelling many miles a 
 
WILLIAM CATON. . I5. 
 
 day — no hardship perhaps but for the fact that, in 
 order to avoid expense, they sadly stinted themselves 
 in food. Yet William Caton says that their reward 
 was with them in all places and conditions. 
 
 After a delay of three weeks they went on board a 
 vessel, but, to their great disappointment, the captain 
 refused to take them. As it seemed improbable that 
 they would obtain a passage from that port, they 
 thought it better to go northward. William Caton 
 longed to visit his beloved friends at Swarthmoor, and 
 a suitable opportunity for doing so occurred, to his 
 extreme refreshment of body and soul. Before sail- 
 ing some meetings were held in Durham, which were 
 of great service. 
 
 On returning from Holland, where very rough 
 treatment was encountered, he again spent a short 
 time at Swarthmoor Hall ; he writes, " a very pre- 
 cious time we had together, whereby my very life 
 was much revived ; and therefore did my soul magnify 
 the Lord, with the rest of His lambs and babes in 
 that place." Soon he started for Scotland with John 
 Stubbs : many sufferings within and without were 
 their portion, but the Lord sustained them through 
 all, and their exceeding affection for each other was 
 a continual source of comfort. In the following 
 winter, in company with another Friend, William 
 Caton visited Lancashire, Cheshire, &c., and says 
 that time would fail him to relate ** the extraordinary 
 good service " which they had. He also attended a 
 laiige General Meeting in Leicestershire, which was 
 a very blessed time ; George Fox, whom he had much 
 wished to meet again, was present. A little later,. 
 
14 WILLIAM CATON. 
 
 whilst on his way to Scotland, he visited Ambleside, 
 in which place courage and power were given him to 
 address a congregation in a chapel, though the people 
 first attacked him as if they had been wild beasts. 
 At Edinburgh and Leith many large meetings were 
 held, sometimes in the streets, and much power in 
 the ministry was granted to William Caton and the 
 Friend who was with him. 
 
 About this time we find the former ill from the 
 effect of " sore travel " from place to place. On 
 their return to Cumberland they held meetings, 
 which William Caton describes as being very large 
 and precious, and he adds, " Friends were strength- 
 ened and confirmed in the precious Truth which in 
 those days did flourish and prosper very much ; and 
 the Lord's power and presence was with'us, through 
 which we were carried on in his work and service, in 
 which our souls delighted to be exercised. There 
 being such an effectual door open abroad in the 
 country I was constrained, through the love of God 
 which dwelt richly in my heart, to labour so much 
 the more diligently, for I knew it was good work- 
 ing whilst it was day ; and indeed a glorious and 
 precious time we had, to make known unto the 
 people the way of salvation, and what the Lord had 
 ■done for our souls ; many believed and were con- 
 verted, and brought to serve and worship the Lord 
 in spirit and in truth." 
 
 Many of these meetings were held around Swarth- 
 moor ; soon afterwards he bade farewell to his friends 
 there, and bent his steps southward. He was 
 greatly cheered by his intercourse with Friends at 
 
WILLIAM CATOl 
 
 ViivBRsifr) 
 
 Bristol, and with the " large and gallant meetings " 
 held in that city and neighbourhood, and says that 
 he was enabled to '' communicate to them of the 
 overflowing of the life and power dwelling in him." 
 Then we find him travelling westward, usually alone 
 and on foot, to visit George Fox and other Friends 
 in Launceston jail. Their intercourse was " in the 
 fulness of endeared love," and though William 
 Caton's chief aim might be to carry comfort to the 
 prisoners, his own cup was filled to overflowing. 
 
 When at Totnes he was brought before the 
 mayor, who threatened him with a whipping; but 
 the other magistrates thought more moderate mea- 
 sures might suffice. When they examined him a 
 clergyman was present, and an excellent opportunity 
 was afforded him to uphold the truth as it is in Jesus, 
 for in that very hour, he says, the Lord was much 
 with him. After spending the night in prison he was 
 sent on with a pass from place to place ; an arrange- 
 ment which had by no means the intended effect, for 
 it soon became known, in one town after another, that 
 William Caton was no pauper, but a Quaker, and peo- 
 ple came out from their houses to see him, whom he 
 addressed freely on the truths dear to his soul. 
 
 Afte^ attending a General Meeting in Wiltshire, 
 and some other services, he re-visited Kent ; he was 
 but twenty years of age, yet his Saviour's grace and 
 power were so manifestly granted him that he shared 
 in th^ worfner felt by others at the abundance given 
 for the multitudes who came to hear him. When he 
 turned his thoughts to his own weakness he was 
 ready to* faint, but when he placed his confidence in 
 
1 6 WILLIAM CATON. 
 
 Christ alone, he become strong. Often he did not 
 know what he should say when he entered a meeting, 
 and yet so much was given him to communicate 
 that he would speak for two, three, or, occasionally, 
 four hours. " Not unto me, not unto me, be the 
 praise [he writes] , but unto the Lord alone. I 
 can truly say that which I received from Him I 
 delivered unto His people. ... An exceeding 
 glorious day I had of it, and did much rejoice in the 
 Lord, notwithstanding my great travails and suffer- 
 ings ; neither were they much to me, with all the 
 perils and dangers I went through, both by sea and 
 land, in comparison of the power and presence of 
 the Almighty." 
 
 In the summer of the same year he again sailed 
 for Holland, this time alone — though he longed for 
 a companion — and in poor health from the effect of 
 exposure to heat and cold during his almost in- 
 cessant journeys. He met with scoffing and abuse 
 from some fellow-voyagers, who were, however, 
 ready to give heed to his words when he addressed 
 them in their dismay, during a dangerous storm, 
 which had filled them with terror. Deep trials were 
 his portion during this visit, which were increased 
 when he became aware of the evils wrought by the 
 extreme views promulgated by some who had joined 
 the Society. At Middleburgh, William Caton and 
 his interpreter were imprisoned for some days, and 
 then conveyed in a waggon to the coast. They were 
 accompanied by several soldiers to protect them from 
 the violence of the citizens ; but, as William Caton 
 says, the Lord was their chief keeper. Great were 
 
WILLIAM CATON. I7 
 
 their sufferings during the following fortnight whilst 
 prisoners on board a man-of-war, in which they were 
 carried to England. Though the weather was very 
 cold and stormy they were obliged to lie on the bare 
 planks, and were not even allowed the covering of a 
 piece of sail-cloth. But God had not forgotten to be 
 gracious. Whilst undergoing this treatment William 
 Caton's health and strength were, in a great measure, 
 restored, though for a time he suffered severe pain 
 in the feet, the result of keeping on shoes and stock- 
 ings during so long a period of exposure to the cold. 
 Soon afterwards ' he paid an extremely satisfactory 
 visit to Sussex. At one place where a meeting was 
 held, a rude crowd marched up to the house with a 
 drum, seeming ready in their violence to pull down 
 the building on the heads of those assembled. Wil- 
 liam Caton went out to them and asked what they 
 wanted. " Quakers ! " was the reply. *' I am one," 
 he said, and then power was given him to address 
 them in such a manner as to make them with- 
 draw in shame and fear. He met with a some- 
 what similar deliverance during his next visit to 
 the Netherlands, where he spent more than a year 
 engaged in ministerial service and authorship. On 
 his return he was comforted by the blessed meetings 
 held in London, where many were added to the 
 Church ; and he speaks of how God bestowed ex- 
 ceeding power and wisdom from above on His ser- 
 vants and handmaids, who, in Christ's name, preached 
 the Word of Life, not in meetings only, but in 
 churches, markets, streets, and highways, indeed 
 v/herever their Saviour led, and whenever He con- 
 
 c 
 
l8 WILLIAM CATON. 
 
 strained them. They gave themselves wholly to God, 
 and marvellous was the result. 
 
 " I made it my sole work to be found doing the 
 work of God, unto which He had called me," writes 
 William Caton, after describing meetings held in the 
 north of England, where, as in many other parts of 
 the country, the labours of Friends were producing ex- 
 traordinary effect. Now and then he enjoyed extreme 
 refreshment by intercourse with the family at Swarth- 
 moor, *' whom," he says, " he found in the same love, 
 life, and power in which he left them." The very 
 remembrance of these days was sweet to him in after 
 years, and the more so from the continued con- 
 sciousness of the love of Christ, by whose realised 
 presence those seasons had been hallowed. It was 
 this, also, which had often made his weary journey- 
 ings and arduous labours a source of delight. 
 
 Early in 1659 he attended a meeting of ministers 
 from various parts of the kingdom, held at the Bull 
 and Mouth Meeting-house in London, which he 
 describes as being "very large and exceedingly pre- 
 cious." In the latter part of the day a meeting was 
 held at Horselydown, where a great concourse seemed 
 much impressed with the truths they heard. William 
 Gaton writes : " Great v/as our rejoicing and comfort 
 which we had in the work and service of the Lord, in 
 which we were abundantly refreshed together. And 
 in that great assembly did our souls, even with one 
 accord, praise and magnify the God of our salvation." 
 A visit to Holland in the same year, with its perilous 
 return voyage, was soon followed by one to Scotland. 
 He set out on the latter expedition from Swarthmoor, 
 
WILLIAM CATON. I9 
 
 and after his friends and himself had, as they thought, 
 fully taken leave of each other, they felt that they 
 could not yet part, and several hours were spent in 
 waiting on the Lord, and in pouring out their souls 
 in prayer. Whilst in Scotland he endeavoured to 
 obtain an interview with General Monk, but, being 
 unable to do so, he wrote an address to him and his 
 army. 
 
 The following winter a meeting which he attended, 
 at Warrington, was broken up by some rough soldiers, 
 who violently forced the worshippers out of the town ; 
 but they re-assembled on the road-side, and had, we 
 find, " a sweet and precious meeting." Before long 
 the soldiers again interrupted them, and whilst Wil- 
 liam Caton was preaching, seized him and, to the 
 great distress of his friends, beat him with their 
 muskets and spears ; then, having given vent to their 
 fury, they allowed him to return to the meeting, 
 where, he says, " The Lord's power and presence did 
 exceedingly appear amongst us ; for, as our suffering 
 at that time was greater than ordinary, even so was 
 our refreshment in the Lord." About this time he 
 records the death of his " dear mother" whilst he 
 was paying her a visit. 
 
 When in London, in 1660, he alludes in a letter to 
 full and peaceable meetings on the previous Sab- 
 bath; and, after stating that the common topic of con- 
 versation was the expected coming of the King, he 
 adds, ** But blessed be the Lord for ever, in whose 
 power we can testify that our King is come who reigns in 
 power and great glory.'' Nor can we wonder at these 
 words from one who drew the strength and joy of his 
 
20 WILLIAM CATON. 
 
 life from the knowledge that his citizenship was in 
 heaven ; who could unite with the sentiment of that 
 good man who said, " When I die I shall change my 
 place, but not my company!"* Redeemed by the 
 precious blood of Christ, to Him William Caton 
 freely dedicated his life, and the Lord, who loveth a 
 cheerful giver, suffered not his faith to fail — to what- 
 ever extent it might be tried. '* I have often observed," 
 he says, "that, by how much the more I felt the 
 weight of the service of the meeting before I went 
 into it, by so much the more was my service in it, 
 and my reward accordingly. Blessed and magnified 
 be the name of the Lord for ever !" 
 
 Before sailing for Holland, in the latter part of the 
 year, he writes from Dover to George Fox. After 
 mentioning the death of a Friend, of Staplehurst — 
 probably a minister — who, he thought, would be 
 greatly missed in that neighbourhood, he adds, " I 
 believe there will now be more necessity for Friends 
 visiting them pretty often than there was before ; I 
 
 desire that thou wouldst be mindful of them 
 
 Dearly beloved of my soul [he writes] let thy prayers 
 be for me that I may be kept in the power, life, and 
 wisdom of our God, to His praise and to the comfort 
 and consolation of the brethren, with whom I can rest 
 in the Lord, even in the heat of the day ; glory be to 
 the Lord for ever." And, during the voyage, we find 
 that he was " exceedingly filled with the Lord's love, 
 
 * '' Have you a glimpse of Christ now that you are dying ? " was 
 the question asked of an old Scottish saint, who, raising himself^ 
 made the emphatic reply, " I'll hae none o' your glimpses now that I 
 am dying, since that I have had a full look at Christ these forty 
 years gane ! " 
 
WILLIAM CATON. 21 
 
 and with the power of His might." One of his fellow- 
 passengers, a Roman Catholic, notwithstanding Wil- 
 liam Caton's habitually courteous manners, openly 
 avowed his hatred of him and his religion ; but before 
 they parted there was a complete change in his 
 behaviour. Well did George Fox say, "Love, patience, 
 and wisdom will wear out all which is not of God." 
 
 In a letter of sympathy written from Amsterdam 
 to English Friends, William Caton remarks that he 
 believes those amongst them who were not yet cast 
 into prison were in no greater danger from persecution 
 than were their brethren resident in that city, where 
 it was said that fifty men had conspired to break up 
 their meeting, and pull down the meeting-house. It 
 Vv'as about this time that he published a volume with 
 the lengthy title " An Abridgement or Compendious 
 Commemoration of the Remarkablest Chronologies 
 which are contained in that celebrated Ecclesiastical 
 History of Eusebius," &c. In 1661 William Caton 
 visited Germany with William Ames ; at Heidelberg 
 they had interviews with the Prince, and laid before 
 him the sufferings of the Friends in his dominions on 
 account of their conscientious objection to the pay- 
 ment of tithes : he gave them a courteous reception, 
 and made them dine with him. When next at 
 Heidelberg William Caton had the unexpected plea- 
 sure of meeting with his friend John Stubbs who, 
 with another Friend, was on the homeward routQ 
 from Egypt. When the Prince heard they were at 
 William Caton's lodgings, he sent his secretary to 
 ask them to come to the Castle to see him, where, 
 in the presence of his nobles, he conversed very freely 
 
22 WILLIAM CATON. 
 
 with them about their mission, &c. ; and, after what 
 William Caton calls " a very gallant opportunity,"" 
 he took an affectionate leave of them. 
 
 The enjoyment of William Caton in the society of 
 his brethren was soon shadowed by tidings from 
 Amsterdam of the death of a beloved friend of hisy 
 Niesie Dirrix, a faithful labourer for her Lord in her 
 native land ; his sorrow was excessive until he was. 
 comforted by the conviction that her mantle would 
 fall on her sister Anneken and some others. On his 
 return to Holland, some months later, he made pro- 
 posals of marriage to Anneken Dirrix. Warm and 
 enthusiastic as his disposition was, he took extreme 
 care to act rightly in this matter: he wished her first 
 to consider whether she "felt something in it as. 
 from the Lord," and asked for no reply until she had 
 deliberately weighed three things : — First the diffe- 
 rence in their outward circumstances and how little 
 he had to offer her ; secondly, the liberty — more to 
 him than the treasures of Egypt — which he should 
 still need to travel in the service of the Lord : and, 
 thirdly, the possibility that their union might be dis- 
 approved of by magistrates, by her relatives or 
 others, and might thus bring trouble upon her. Her 
 reply was to the following effect : — As to the first, it 
 was not means that she looked to but virtue. As to 
 the second, when the Lord needed him for any ser- 
 vice she should not be the woman that would hinder 
 him. As to the last, if they " were perfectly clear of 
 the thing before the Lord, she hoped to bear what 
 people without should say, for that would be one of 
 the least crosses !" Still they did not think it right 
 
WILLIAM CATON. 23 
 
 for a time to bind themselves by promise. William 
 Caton thus describes his own feelings during an in- 
 terview which they had after several months had 
 elapsed : — " Waiting awhile exceeding steadfastly in 
 the light of the Lord, the life began to arise, and the 
 Word of the Lord testified unto me thus, saying, 
 * She is the gift of the Lord to thee.' Then was my 
 heart also broken, and in the fulness of love and 
 unity in the everlasting covenant did I receive her 
 as the Lord's gift unto me." 
 
 About three months after his marriage he em- 
 barked for England. Whilst in London he received 
 much spiritual refreshment from a visit to Edward 
 Burrough [of whom there is a sketch in this volume] , 
 then a prisoner in Newgate, where he died a week 
 or two later. Their separation was riot a long one : 
 each was early called to the ministry ; each accom- 
 plished the labour of a long lifetime in ten or a dozen 
 years. Like their Divine Master " clad with zeal as 
 a cloak," ^Uhrough faith they wrought righteousness, 
 obtained promises, . . . out of weakness were made 
 strong, waxed valiant in fight, turned to flight the 
 armies of the aliens." On his next visit to England 
 — for his home was now in Holland — William Caton 
 was accompanied by his wife, who greatly longed to 
 become acquainted with the Friends there, of v/hom 
 she had no doubt often heard ; and with a similar 
 desire some other Dutch members of the Society 
 sailed with them. 
 
 The London Friends rejoiced, William Caton says, 
 ** to see people of another nation, and of a strange 
 language, brought into the same living truth in 
 
24 WILLIAM CATON. 
 
 which they were established, and to bear the same 
 image which they bore, — and to be comprehended 
 in the same Love." At a General Meeting at Kings- 
 ton he acted as interpreter for one of his Dutch 
 sisters. His wife and the other Friends from 
 Holland had returned sometime before his mission 
 was accomplished, but in the autumn of 1663 he 
 also set sail. When about ten leagues off Yarmouth, 
 William Caton, who felt sure that a storm was at 
 hand, unavailingly urged the .captain to put back. 
 That night a tempest overtook them, and at its 
 height the helm became useless, and, as the vessel 
 was also very leaky, she was in extreme peril ; the 
 sailors, wet to the skin and utterly wearied by toiling 
 at the pumps and with the sails, were almost ready 
 to despair. William Caton, who had been aiding 
 them in their arduous work, now wrestled in prayer 
 for their deliverance if in accordance with God's 
 will ; " though, as for my own part," he says, whilst 
 with deep gratitude recording their remarkable pre- 
 servation, " I found myself exceeding freely given up 
 to bequeath my soul into His bosom of everlasting 
 love, and my body to be buried in that great deep." 
 But soon storms of a different character had to be 
 encountered. Whilst waiting at Yarmouth for a 
 change in the wind he attended the meeting there, 
 and, in company with seven other Friends, also 
 strangers, was carried before the magistrates of the 
 town. Because they declined to take the Oath of 
 Allegiance they were committed to the common jail, 
 where they were confined for more than six months ; 
 when it was tendered to William Caton he said that 
 
WILLIAM CATON. 25 
 
 he had never uttered an oath but once, in his 
 hoyhood, and having then incurred the displeasure 
 of the Almighty he dared not swear again. So 
 fully had the magistrates anticipated this steadfast 
 adherence of the Friends to their conscientious con- 
 victions, that they made out their mittimus before 
 putting them to the test. 
 
 In a letter, written a few days later, William Caton 
 alludes to the cruelty of their oppressors, which some- 
 times made it no easy matter to obtain their bread 
 and water ; but says that the only wonder was that 
 he had not earlier found himself in bonds, " unto 
 which," he adds, *' I have long been freely given up 
 in the will of God where my soul is in peace with the 
 Lord." And again he writes of how " one day in 
 prison, with the Lord, was better than a thousand 
 elsewhere without the enjoyment of His presence, in 
 whose love his soul solaced itself night and day." 
 Some friends of the prisoners, thinking to beguile 
 the long hours of their confinement, wished to give 
 them a spinning-wheel, but were not allowed to 
 do so. 
 
 It was in the early part of 1664 that the Friends 
 were liberated, after meeting with kind consideration 
 from the judge who presided over the sessions, and 
 from a justice of the peace. Five of William Caton's 
 fellow-sufferers belonged to a vessel which had come 
 to Yarmouth for herrings, and as, during this period, 
 she was seized by the Turks, their English captivity 
 was the means of saving them from Asiatic slavery. 
 
 In the following winter William Caton wrote an 
 •epistle from Rotterdam to his friends in England. 
 
26 WILLIAM CATON. 
 
 After referring to his powerlessness to express the 
 fervency of his love, and of his prayerful longings for 
 them, he adds, "Yet herein can I satisfy myself, in 
 that we come to read and feel one another in that 
 which is immortal." He says that, although his 
 heart is often saddened by the many hindrances to 
 the extension of the Redeemer's kingdom in Holland, 
 he is supported by the "wonted goodness and tender 
 mercy of the Most High, still perfectly continued to 
 him.''' William Caton died in the latter part of the 
 following year, at the age of nine-and-twenty. His 
 wife did not long survive him. 
 
 It has been remarked that " No truth or goodness 
 realised by man ever dies, or can die ; " and surely 
 such a life, though lived two centuries ago, has not 
 ceased to convey a lesson. As we look around us 
 we find no warrant for believing that the world no 
 longer needs to be reminded of that cross to which 
 every helpless soul may cling, and of such truths as 
 Christ's Headship of His Church, the Spirituality 
 of the Gospel dispensation, and the realit}^ of the 
 teaching and guidance of the Holy Spirit. 
 
 The fields are white unto harvest still ; still the 
 Lord of the harvest has need of labourers ; of labourers, 
 who, with the knowledge that they are bought with 
 a price, and that " voluntary obedience is liberty" — 
 completely yield themselves to Him to be trained for, 
 and directed in, any service which He sees meet to 
 assign to them, be it of what kind it may, for " all 
 service is not work, and all work is not service ; "' 
 endeavouring to consecrate to Him, as occasion may 
 arise, every talent, whether natural or acquired, 
 
WILLIAM CATON. 2/ 
 
 *' Ever by a mighty hope 
 Pressing on and bearing up." 
 
 ** Do not," it has been said, " let Satan have all 
 the benefit of ambition in his kingdom." Excelsior 
 is no unworthy device for the banner of Christian 
 warriors who are learning that they " are nothing, 
 Christ is all."* " Behold the Lord's hand is not 
 shortened that it cannot save ; neither His ear heavy 
 that it cannot hear." He can " restore judges as at 
 the first, aud Counsellors as at the beginning," and 
 may no unbelief on our part hinder the performance 
 of " mighty works " on His. 
 
 * ♦' So long," writes the author of The Patience of Hope, "as we 
 are resting on anything within ourselves — be it even in a work of 
 grace — there remains, at least to honest hearts, a ground for con- 
 tinual restlessness and continual disappointment. To know that 
 we have nothing, are nothing, out of Christ, is to know the truth> 
 which makes us free." 
 
28 
 
 JOHN AUDLAND AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 " In the Church of God there is no irrevocable golden age in the 
 
 past In God's battles leaders cannot fail." — Author of 
 
 " The Schdnherg-Cotta Family." 
 
 When John Audland was about twenty-two years 
 of age he was a very popular minister amongst the 
 Independents. Sewell describes him as " a young 
 man of a comely countenance, and very lovely quali- 
 ties, very religious, and having a good understanding." 
 One Sabbath morning, in 1652, he preached at Fir- 
 bank Chapel, in Westmoreland. Before noon George 
 Fox arrived at this place ; it was soon rumoured that 
 he would preach there that day, and whilst some 
 people went away for a time to dine, a large number 
 remained. 
 
 George Fox, having quenched his thirst at a stream, 
 seated himself on the summit of a rock near the 
 •chapel, and from this elevation he, in the afternoon, 
 addressed the vast multitude gathered around him. 
 In this congregation were several preachers, including 
 John Audland, who had brought his wife, a young 
 lady of good family, with him. Probably as their 
 thirsty souls drank in the words which fell with 
 heavenly power from the stranger's lips, they were 
 hardly conscious that he continued speaking for about 
 three hours, directing all to the Spirit of God in them- 
 selves. Glorious was the heritage he pourtrayed as 
 the present portion of believers in Christ ; that they 
 
JOHN AUDLAND AND HIS FRIENDS. 29 
 
 ** might know their bodies to be prepared, sanctified, 
 and made fit templer, for God and Christ to dwell in." 
 He strove to turn the thoughts of his hearers away 
 from all figures and shadows to Christ the Substance ; 
 " Christ was come," he said, " who ended both the 
 temple and its worship, and the priests and their 
 tithes ; and all now should hearken unto Him." 
 
 Effectual as was George Fox's message to many 
 that day, perhaps it was more so to none than John 
 and Anne Audland, and it was to their house that he 
 adjourned when the meeting was over. Both were 
 " chosen vessels unto the Lord to declare His name," 
 and the life-long ministry of each began in the follow- 
 ing year. Deep was John Audland's distress when 
 his eyes were opened to see that his high profession 
 of religion was valueless. " It is a Saviour that I 
 long for," was now his cry, — " it is He that my soul 
 pants after, Oh, that I may be gathered into His 
 life, and overshadowed with His glory, sanctified 
 throughout by His word, and raised up by His eternal 
 power ! " 
 
 The answer to Jiis continued prayers was not long 
 delayed ; the Lord, in accordance with His promise,, 
 fulfilled his desire, heard his cry and saved him. 
 
 " Oh, how wonderful His ways ! 
 All in love begin and end : 
 Whom His mercy means to raise, 
 First His justice bids descend." 
 
 Thus baptised into Christ John Audland was, ere 
 long, qualified to preach the word with extraordinary 
 power. The remuneration which he had previously 
 
30 JOHN AUDLAND AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 received for his ministerial services, he now returned 
 to the parish of Colton. 
 
 Anne Audland was the daughter of a gentleman of 
 the name of Newby, who also became a Friend about 
 this time ; she had been well educated, and during a 
 ■seven years' residence with an aunt in London had 
 often associated with Puritans. Before her marriage, 
 when at her home at Kendal, she chose the most 
 serious people of that town for her friends, uniting with 
 some who often met together to wait on God in silence, 
 or for religious conference and fervent prayer. Perhaps 
 on the day of George Fox's memorable visit to Fir- 
 bank she was already " not far from the kingdom." 
 
 Two years later we find her, at the age of twenty- 
 seven, preaching at Auckland, in Durham, on a 
 market day, in consequence of which she was con- 
 fined for some hours in the town jail, through the 
 window of which she continued to address a not 
 unmoved audience, one of whom, a gentleman named 
 Langstaff, who was much respected in the neigh- 
 bourhood, was so much impressed by her ministry 
 that he accompanied her to prison, and afterwards 
 took her to his house ; here, however, she declined 
 remaining when she observed his wife's annoyance 
 'at the arrival of a Quaker guest, and went out into 
 the fields to seek for some sheltered spot where she 
 might spend the night. But Anthony Pearson, a 
 justice of the peace, who had lately become a Friend, 
 had been told by George Fox, who was staying at 
 his house, of Anne Audland's arrival in the town, 
 .and came with a horse and pillion to escort her to 
 his residence. 
 
JOHN AUDLAND AND HIS FRIENDS. 3I 
 
 During the following winter, whilst travelling with 
 Mabel Camm (the wife of John Camm), she was 
 committed to prison by the Mayor of Banbury, who 
 had induced two witnesses to swear that she had 
 spoken blasphemy; but, after some days, two resi- 
 dents in the town gave bond for her appearance at 
 the assizes, and thus an opportunity for holding a 
 succession of meetings was afforded her. 
 
 A remarkable blessing rested on these labours; 
 several hundreds, including her two bondsmen, were 
 effectually led to Christ ; many were added to the 
 Society, and not only was a large meeting formed in 
 Banbury, but several others were established in the 
 neighbourhood. These things, of course, kindled the 
 wrath of her enemies, who threatened that she should 
 be burned. Her husband and other Friends were 
 present at the trial, when the indictment drawn up 
 against her was that she had said God did not live, 
 because, when speaking of a clergyman at Banbury, 
 she had remarked that " True words may be a lie in 
 the mouth of some that speak them," quoting Jer. v. 2. 
 When the judge had questioned her he soon dis- 
 covered the falseness of the evidence adduced, nor 
 did he fail to observe the innocent fearlessness of her 
 deportment. Some gentlemen on the bench, being 
 afraid that the case would fall to the ground, followed 
 the jury, and induced them to bring in a verdict of 
 " Guilty of misdemeanour." It is satisfactory to 
 find that these gentlemen were told by one of their 
 coadjutors that he would not sit with them until 
 they had more regard for justice, and other officers in 
 the Court strongly manifested their disapprobation. 
 
 f4^^ Of TffJ -^ 
 
 frrwrVTlPSTTX 
 
32 JOHN AUDLAND AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 On her refusal to give bond for " good behaviour,"" 
 she v^as sent to prison again, although the judge was 
 heard to say that she ought to be discharged. For 
 seven or eight months she w^as confined in a filthy 
 dungeon, by the side of which was a sewer which 
 received much of the drainage of the town ; she had 
 a companion in Jane Waugh, who was also a minis- 
 ter, and had been imprisoned for no other offence 
 than that of visiting Anne Audland. Here, unpro- 
 tected from cold and damp and noxious gases, with 
 frogs and toads crawling around them — kept by the 
 peace of God — they abode, we are told, as in a palace,, 
 for they could say : — 
 
 " Thy presence makes my paradise, 
 And where Thou art, is Heaven." 
 
 After her release Anne Audland and her husband 
 had the joy of meeting each other at Bristol, and 
 after some religious service they returned to their 
 home in Westmoreland. Frequent journeys for the 
 advancemicnt of Christ's cause were undertaken by 
 both, unitedly and separately, to most parts of the 
 kingdom. During John Audland's absence on one 
 of these missions she thus writes : — 
 
 • " Dear Husband, — Thou art dearer to me than ever; 
 my love flows out to thee, even the same love that I am 
 loved withal of my Father. . . O, how am I refreshed to 
 hear from thee of thy faithfulness and boldness in the 
 work of the Lord. O ! dear heart, I cannot utter the joy 
 I have concerning thee ; thy presence I have continually 
 in spirit, therewith am I filled with joy ; all glory and 
 honour be to our God for ever, O ! blessed be the day 
 in which thou wast born, that thou art found worthy to 
 labour in the work of the Lord. Surely the Lord hath 
 
JOHN AUDLAND AND HIS FRIENDS. ^^ 
 
 found thee faithful in little, and therefore He hath com- 
 mitted much unto thee; go on in the name and power 
 of our Lord Jesus Christ, whence all strength cometh, 
 to whom be all glory and honour for ever. O ! dear 
 heart, go on conquering and to conquer, knowing this 
 that thy crown is sure. So, dear heart, now is the time 
 of the Lord's work, and few are willing to go forth into 
 it. The whole world lieth in wickedness doing their 
 own work ; but blessed be the Lord for ever, who hath 
 called us from doing our own work into His great work. 
 ... I am full of love towards thee, never such love as 
 this ; the mighty power of the Lord go along with thee, 
 and keep thee faithful and valiant, and bold in His pure 
 counsel, to stand single out of all the world. ... A joy- 
 ful word it was to me, to hear that thou wast moved to 
 ■go for Bristol. O ! my own heart, my own life, in that 
 which now stands, act and obey, that thou mayst stand 
 upon thy alone guard : so, dear heart, let thy prayers 
 be for me that I may be kept pure, out of all tempta- 
 tions, singly to dwell in the life. So, farewell ! — Anne 
 
 AuDLAND." 
 
 A series of meetings were held in 1654 by John 
 Audland and his friend John Camm, near Bristol, in 
 a field called Earl's Mead, and were very largely 
 attended, nearly four thousand persons being some- 
 times present. Edward Burrough and Francis How- 
 gill were their fellow-labourers for a short time. 
 These meetings were cootinued during three or four 
 months, and Charles Marshall describes this period 
 as " the glorious morning of the day of visitation of 
 the love of God, in particular to the city of Bristol." 
 He was then about seventeen, and an earnest seeker 
 after God. Having been unable, as he says, to *' find 
 the living among the dead professions," he had spent 
 much time alone in fields and woods, where "strong, 
 great, and many," were his cries unto the Lord. 
 
 D 
 
34 JOHN AUDLAND AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Charles Marshall, before the arrival of John Aud- 
 land, had been in the habit of meeting with a few 
 others on one day of the week, which they kept in 
 fasting and prayer; they assembled early in the 
 morning, and sometimes sat down in silence, but if 
 any felt it right to engage in prayer vocally they did 
 so, and even children occasionally uttered brief peti- 
 tions. To one of these meetings John Audland and 
 John Camm came; " They spake," writes Charles 
 Marshall, " the powerful word of life in the dread of 
 His name who lives for ever; and we were seized on 
 and smitten even to the heart ; and that day, and 
 the visitation of it, overtook us, which we had longed 
 and waited for, and from darkness to the marvellous 
 light of the Lord were we turned." 
 
 On a Sabbath morning Charles Marshall went 
 with the ministers about a mile and a half into the 
 country, to a little spring of water, by the side of 
 which he had spent many solitary hours ; here they 
 sat down for a considerable time, and then Charles 
 Marshall observed that the minds of his companions 
 were greatly exercised, and soon John Audland said, 
 " Let us be going into the city." When they reached 
 Broadmead Street they found several people who 
 -were inquiring for the strangers ; John Audland 
 asked if any of them had an interest in a field, in 
 which they might assemble, and an old man answered 
 that he had one pretty near. Thither the company 
 repaired, increasing in number whilst passing through 
 the streets. John Audland is described by Charles 
 Marshall as " of a sweet and amiable countenance, 
 and cheerful spirit, one of the wise in heart, filled with 
 
JOHN AUDLAND AND HIS FRIENDS. 35 
 
 the excellent, bright, glorious power of the Lord 
 God." 
 
 After John Camm had spoken tenderly and fer- 
 vently, John Audland arose, and to Charles Marshall 
 it seemed that his face shone as, with a voice of 
 thunder, he uttered the message of his Lord. '' I 
 proclaim spiritual war," he began ''with the inhabi- 
 tants of the earth who are in the fall and separation 
 from God." And the word of the Lord had free 
 course and was glorified : so intense was the emo- 
 tion of some present that they fell on the ground, 
 whilst others cried out as the preacher laid bare their 
 inward states; many were effectually turned from dark- 
 ness to light. " Indeed it was a notable day," writes 
 Charles Marshall, " worthy to be left on record, that 
 our children may read and tell to their children, and 
 theirs to another generation, that the worthy, noble 
 acts of the arm of God's salvation maybe remembered." 
 
 After this day the meetings became larger and 
 larger, so that it was necessary to hold them in the 
 open air, even in frost and snow, and the ministers 
 laboured unweariedly to lead their hearers " to look 
 from dead ways and worships unto Christ Jesus, the 
 Fountain of Life " ; and many of these sought 
 eagerly night and day to obtain salvation through 
 Him, giving up their hearts wholly to His govern- 
 ment, and walking in the way of self-denial — for wc 
 read that " This visitation of God's holy and blessed 
 day was signal and inexpressible." Some, in their 
 eagerness to obtain an opportunity for private con- 
 versation with the ministers, called on them before they 
 arose in the morning, so that their labours began at 
 
36 JOHN AUDLAND AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 six a.m., and did not end until eleven or even one 
 o'clock at night. They w^ere, indeed, so sought after 
 that " every day was like one long meeting." Soon 
 persecution arose, causing a tumult in the city ; the 
 houses of Friends w^ere broken into by the mob, 
 under the pretence of preventing conspiracy, and 
 they were themselves often treated with brutarvio- 
 lence, whilst the law afforded them no protection, 
 and the clergy stimulated the rage of the rioters. 
 
 One day, as John Camm and John Audland were 
 crossing a bridge on their way to a village where a 
 meeting had been appointed, they found themselves 
 surrounded by a rabble, by some of whom they were 
 beaten and kicked, whilst others shouted, " Knock 
 them down, kill them, hang them ! " — so that they 
 narrowly escaped with their lives. Charles Marshall 
 was one of those who found in John Audland "a dear 
 friend and father in Christ Jesus," and he afterwards 
 became a very powerful preacher, the deep conflicts 
 through which he had himself passed, the better en- 
 abling him to draw out his soul to the hungry, and 
 satisfy the afflicted soul. 
 
 William Penn writes that '^ he was one that waited 
 for the feeling of God's living and heavenly power ta 
 carry him forth in his ministerial exercises," by 
 which, we find, many were turned to righteousness, 
 and some induced to more earnestly covet the best 
 gifts. George Whitehead — who says that he " truly 
 loved him for love's sake" — remarks, that "his sin- 
 cere love and regard to Christ's ministers and mes- 
 sengers appeared to be a good and necessary pre- 
 paration for him to be a witness and partaker of the 
 
JOHN AUDLAND AND HIS FRIENDS. ^J 
 
 same ministry." His faith was strong ; and, un- 
 hindered by the heat of persecution, he visited the 
 various meetings throughout the land, his labours 
 being attended by an abundant blessing. When, in 
 1670, at the age of thirty-two, God called him to the 
 ministry, and laid this work before him, he said in his 
 soul, " How shall I visit Thy people in these times, 
 when the rod of the wicked is upon their backs ? '* 
 Then this reply seemed to be given him, " Go, 1 will 
 prosper thy way ; and this present exercise, which 
 is over my people, shall be as a morning cloud, and 
 I will be to them as the tender dew through the land 
 of thy nativity." 
 
 Although during the next two years he visited 
 every county in England, no hand was laid on him, 
 nor did he know of any one who lost five pounds on 
 account of attending his meetings. When describing 
 subsequent labours, he says that he believed thou- 
 sands received the word of life ; and in some places, 
 which had never before been visited by a Friend, 
 meetings were established. *' Oh," he writes, "the 
 tenderness which mine eye has seen in many places 
 through the land : the watering showers that de- 
 scended on the Lord's plantation is beyond descrip- 
 tion." But long-continued painful labours were also 
 allotted to him in consequence of the spirit of dissen- 
 sion which prevailed in some counties where John 
 Story, John Wilkinson, and their party had obtained 
 a footing. Yet he tells us that God was with him in 
 this day of deep exercise, making his bow strong, and 
 daily replenishing his quiver with arrows, even though 
 his soul was, as it were, baptised for the dead. 
 
38 JOHN AUDLAND AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 In one of his pamphlets, " The Way of Life Re- 
 vealed," &c., he writes : — 
 
 *' The travail in spirit of the messengers and servants 
 of the Most High in ages past, was the same as now it 
 is, viz., To turn people from darkness unto light, and 
 from the power of Satan to the power of the living God ; 
 thereby in nowise invalidating Christ Jesus, His mani- 
 festation in that bodily appearance, neither His suffer- 
 ings, death, resurrection, nor ascension ; but brings all 
 people guided thereby unto that which will open the eyes 
 of their understanding, whereby they all come unto such 
 a condition and spiritual understanding, as to see and 
 know their benefit by the appearance of the Saviour of 
 the world ; for this we testify, all are perfected by that 
 One Offering that are sanctified." 
 
 And again he says : — 
 
 '' As there is a faithful abiding in inward watchful- 
 ness, and continual obedience to this heavenly light, 
 there will be a growing from strength to strength over 
 sin and the nature thereof, until thou seest all the rule 
 and authority of the enemy to be subdued under the feet 
 of the Lord's anointed, and the government in the soul 
 upon His shoulders, whose right it is to rule over all. 
 And here salvation, redemption, and restoration, is effec- 
 tually enjoyed through faith, and the effectual working 
 of the Almighty power and arm of God, unto whom be 
 the glory of His own work for ever ! And so here will 
 be a growing and increasing, until there is a coming 
 "into that precious state and image in which man was- 
 before he fell." 
 
 By profession Charles Marshall was a physician ; 
 he was remarkable for his kindness and generosity 
 to the poor, and when on his death-bed he urged 
 this duty on others. In the year 1682, he was pro- 
 secuted by a clergyman for the non-payment of 
 tithes, in consequence of which he was committed 
 
JOHN AUDLAND AND HIS FRIENDS. 39 
 
 by the Barons of the Exchequer to the Fleet Prison. 
 After he had been confined ^there for two years, the 
 clergyman's conscience was so much troubled that 
 he came in person to release him. Charles Marshall 
 then settled with his family near London, where, 
 during many years, he diligently worked for his Lord. 
 He died in 1698, at the age of sixty-one.* 
 
 Another of the converts of John Audland and John 
 Camm during this extraordinary visit to Bristol was 
 a lady named Barbara Blaugdon^ who had been seri- 
 ously inclined from childhood ; she became a minister, 
 and suffered much from persecution : once, when 
 coming out from a private house at Bristol, where a 
 meeting had been held, a man in the street stabbed 
 her very severely, though no vital part was reached. 
 After her release from a six weeks' imprisonment at 
 Marlborough, she had some conversation with the 
 gentleman who had committed her, in consequence 
 of which he never again persecuted Friends, but 
 behaved with much kindness to them, even aiding 
 them when able to do so. He once called at Barbara 
 Blaugdon's house at Bristol, and confessed to her 
 that he was convinced of the truth of the views which 
 she held, although he said that he could not himself 
 walk in the way of self-denial. 
 
 During a visit to Devon, where she was thrice 
 
 • Charles Marshall's wife was the daughter of Mary Prince, who 
 was another seal to the ministry of John Camm and John Audland, 
 when at Bristol, in 1654. Two years later she visited New England 
 as a minister, and, in 1660, travelled extensively on the European 
 Continent with Mary Fisher. She was three times committed to 
 prison in her native city of Bristol, during the severe persecution 
 there in 1663 and 1664. 
 
40 JOHN AUDLAND AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 imprisoned, she called at the residence of the Earl of 
 Bath — where she had formerly often been received 
 as a visitor — with the intention of speaking to his 
 family on the vanity of the pursuits in which she 
 had once joined them. When she inquired for the 
 Countess, a servant, who recognised her, asked her 
 to go to the back-door, through which he said his 
 lady would soon go into the garden. But when she 
 reached the back premises a very fierce mastiff was 
 unchained, in order that he might attack her ; but 
 before he reached her his ferocity seemed to be 
 altogether subdued, for he suddenly turned and 
 v/ent away whining. Soon the Countess came to 
 her, and after listening to her counsel, thanked her 
 for it. 
 
 When Barbara Blaugdon was at Great Torrington 
 she was sent for by the mayor, who was not inclined 
 to treat her with harshness ; but a clergyman, who 
 was very anxious that she should be whipped as a 
 vagabond, succeeded in persuading him to send her 
 to Exeter Prison, where she was confined for some 
 time, not being brought to trial when the assizes were 
 held. One day the sheriff came and took her to 
 another apartment, where a beadle, who had accom- 
 panied him, whipped her until the blood ran down 
 her back ; meanwhile such joy was granted her at 
 being counted worthy to suffer for Christ as to cause 
 her to sing His praise. " Do ye sing? I will make 
 you cry, by-and-by ! " exclaimed the beadle, whilst 
 increasing the severity of the strokes ; but so gra- 
 ciously and wonderfully was she sustained, that she 
 afterwards said that had she even been whipped to 
 
JOHN AUDLAND AND HIS FRIENDS. 4I 
 
 death, in the state she then was, she should not 
 have been terrified or dismayed. 
 
 The sheriff, finding how unavailing their cruelty 
 was, at length bade the beadle cease striking her. 
 He had imagined that he had only a woman to deal 
 with in her weakness, but found that he was fighting 
 against God : the following day she was liberated. 
 The Mayor of Bideford, before whom she was brought, 
 was much impressed by some serious conversation 
 which she had with him, and was so eager to resume 
 it, that, when she left the town, he followed her on 
 horseback, and rode three or four miles with her ; 
 before parting she knelt down and prayed for him. 
 Apparently the influence which she was permitted to 
 -exert was blessed to him ; once, after leaving the 
 ■county, she wrote him a letter, which he received 
 not long before his death. 
 
 In the winter of the following year, 1655, Barbara 
 Blaugdon crossed to Ireland. The vessel in which 
 she sailed was in great peril from a tremendous 
 i5torm, which the superstitious sailors attributed to 
 the presence of a Quaker, and conspired to throw 
 her overboard. When she became aware of their 
 design, she successfully appealed to the captain for 
 protection, saying that, if he permitted such a deed, 
 her blood would be required at his hands. The 
 tempest continued, and as the chaplain was too much 
 terrified to hold the usual service, Barbara Blaugdon 
 went on deck, feeling that it was her duty to address 
 the crew and pray for them. They were very grave 
 and quiet, and afterwards remarked that they were 
 "" more beholden '* to her than to their chaplain. 
 
42 JOHN AUDLAND AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 On landing at Dublin she went to the house of the 
 Viceroy, but was told that it would be useless to seek 
 for an interview with him, as only on the previous 
 day he had banished Edward Burrough and Francis 
 Howgill from the island; but after a while she was 
 shown into a drawing-room^ and a gentleman came 
 to her from the Deputy's chamber, before whom those 
 who accompanied him stood uncovered. Notwith- 
 standing this artifice she was convinced that he was 
 not the Deputy but a clergyman ; and, when asked by 
 those present why she did not speak to their lord, 
 replied, ''When I see your lord, then I shall give my 
 message to him." Ere long the Viceroy made his 
 appearance, and after he had seated himself on a 
 couch she addressed him, bidding him beware lest he 
 should be fighting against God by opposing His cause 
 and persecuting the innocent ; at the same time ex- 
 pressing her belief that he was not so much in fault 
 as were those who instigated him to this conduct. 
 He was evidently impressed by her solemn words ; 
 and, when she spoke of how the teachers of the 
 people caused them to err, he said to the clergyman, 
 " There's for 5^ou, Mr. Harrison!" and afterwards- 
 asked him what reply he could make her. " It is all 
 very true and very good," he said, " and I have no- 
 thing to say against it if she speaks as she means."" 
 Barbara Blaugdon answered that the Spirit of God 
 was true and spoke as it meant, and meant as it 
 spoke ; but men of corrupt minds perverted the Scrip- 
 tures by putting their own construction on them and 
 deceiving those they taught ; but the Scriptures were 
 of no private interpretation, being written by holy 
 
JOHN AUDLAND AND HIS FRIENDS. 43 
 
 men of God as they were inspired by the Holy Ghost. 
 She was told that the Viceroy was so much impressed 
 that after she left him he declined joining in bowls 
 or any similar pastime. 
 
 From Dublin she went to Cork, where some of her 
 relatives and acquaintance dwelt ; frequent were her 
 imprisonments, though whenever she preached there 
 were some who willingly received her message, whilst 
 many of her former friends trembled at her words of 
 warning. Once, when she was addressing the people 
 in a market-place, a butcher swore he would cleave 
 her head, but whilst lifting his cleaver to do so a 
 woman seized his arms, and presently some soldiers 
 came to the rescue. On her next voyage to Ireland 
 the ship foundered near Dungarvan, and she had a 
 most narrow escape of her life, but was providentially 
 saved by the bravery of the captain and one of the 
 sailors. 
 
 In Dublin she suffered much in a filthy prison,, 
 having given great offence by a religious exhortation 
 to the judges in a court of justice. After awhile she 
 was arraigned at the bar, and when requested to plead 
 Guilty or Not Guilty, answered that there was no 
 guilt upon anyone's conscience for what was done in 
 obedience to God. But as this was not considered a 
 satisfactory answer she was sent back to prison ► 
 Here she was visited by some of her friends, Sir 
 William King, Colonel Fare, and Lady Brown, who 
 afterwards went to the judge to endeavour to obtain 
 her release ; they laughed when he told them, in 
 allusion to Barbara Blaugdon, that he was afraid of 
 his life — saying they had known her from child- 
 
44 JOHN AUDLAND AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 hood, and were so strenuous in their efforts for her 
 liberation that they at last secured it. 
 
 After she was set free she spoke very solemnly to 
 the judge, who died the same night. A short time 
 previously he had condemned six persons to death 
 on a charge of murder, five of whom were apparently 
 innocent ; for the only witness against them, when 
 accused by Barbara Blaugdon, who shared the same 
 prison, confessed, while trembling exceedingly, that 
 his evidence was altogether false ; and he once made 
 the same admission to the judge, to whom Barbara 
 Blaugdon wrote, begging him to take care that he 
 did not condemn the guiltless, also teUing him that 
 the day of his death was at hand, and reminding him 
 that he would have to render an account of his actions. 
 But he took no notice of this remonstrance. At 
 Limerick, also, Barbara Blaugdon found imprison- 
 ment awaiting her ; and when on her homeward 
 voyage she was robbed of all she had by the crew 
 of a privateer, but ultimately reached England in 
 safety. 
 
 The last allusion made to her by Sewel is in 
 reference to her being one of the one hundred and 
 fifteen Friends who were imprisoned at Bristol in 1682, 
 wfiilst, in the face of threats and persecution, the 
 meetings in that city were kept up by the children 
 with wonderful faith and courage. During John 
 Audland and John Camm's remarkable visit there 
 (twenty-eight years earlier), we find that George 
 Bishop and Josiah Coale were also amongst those 
 who " received their testimony." 
 
 In 1664, George Bishop published the following 
 
JOHN AUDLAND AND HIS FRIENDS. 45. 
 
 brief address, which was delivered to Charles II. and 
 his Parliament : — 
 
 " To the King and both Houses of Parliament ; thus. 
 
 saith the Lord : 
 " Meddle not with my people because of their con- 
 science to me, and banish them not out of the nation 
 because of their conscience; for if you do I will send my 
 plagues upon you, and you shall know that I am the Lord. 
 *' Written, in obedience to the Lord, by His servant,. 
 
 " George Bishop. 
 " Bristol, 25th of Ninth Month, 1664." 
 
 It will be remembered that the Great Plague visited 
 London in the following year. Whilst the pestilence 
 was at its height the Friends were less frequently 
 banished than before ; from his prison in Bristol 
 George Bishop sent them a letter exhorting them to 
 stand fast in the Lord, and assuring them that if they 
 were exiled God would protect them whilst they were 
 faithful to Him, — that " none should root them out, 
 but that they should be planted and built up." At 
 an earlier date he wrote a book giving an account of 
 the cruel persecution of the Friends in New England, 
 in which he quoted Major-General Denison's words to 
 those who ventured to remonstrate with him, — " This 
 year ye will go to complain to the Parliament, and 
 the next year they will send to see how it is ; and the 
 third year the Government will be changed ! " When 
 this passage was read to the King he was much struck 
 by it, and calling some of his courtiers to hear it he 
 exclaimed, " So ! these are some of my good subjects 
 of New England, but I will put a stop to them!" 
 And when, after William Ledra's execution at Bos- 
 ton, Edward Burrough besought him to terminate 
 
46 JOHN AUDLAND AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 «uch proceedings by sending a mandamus thither, he 
 yielded to his request. 
 
 jfosiah Coale was about twenty-one when the power- 
 ful ministry of John Audland and John Camm proved 
 an effectual message to his soul. '' I saw," he says, 
 " that my heart was polluted, and that there was no 
 habitation for God, which caused me to mourn in 
 desolation, and to wander in solitary places, until I 
 was ready to faint ; and I said in my heart. Never 
 man's sorrow was like my sorrow. ... If Thou 
 O God," was now his cry, "wilt help me thoroughly, 
 then will I teach transgressors Thy ways, and sinners 
 shall be converted unto Thee." This was no vain 
 vow; it became his "life and joy" to declare the 
 Gospel, and, with lips touched as with a live coal, 
 he laboured valiantly for his Lord, at home and 
 abroad ; on one occasion travelling with two other 
 Friends from Virginia to New England through vast 
 wildernesses and dense forests which had been thought 
 impenetrable to all but the Indians, who treated the 
 white strangers most kindly, although they had pre- 
 viously been greatly exasperated by Europeans. Yet 
 their lives were often endangered by the proximity of 
 beasts of prey and serpents, the marshes which inter- 
 cepted their path, and the effects of hunger and cold. 
 
 Amongst some of the aboriginal tribes of Massa- 
 chusetts, especially, Joshua Coale discovered true 
 yearnings after God. " Through the goodness of the 
 Lord," he writes, " we found these Indians more sober 
 and Christian-like towards us than the Christians so- 
 called." After his release from Sandwich gaol, the 
 youthful minister laboured amongst the Algonquins, 
 whose king said to him, "The Englishmen do not 
 
JOHN AUDLAND AND HIS FRIENDS. 47 
 
 love the Quakers, but the Quakers are honest men, 
 and do no harm ; and this is no Englishman's sea or 
 land, and Quakers shall come here and welcome." 
 
 Two or three years later, when imprisoned in Lon- 
 don, he wTites : — "Though great suffering and afflic- 
 tions attended, as yet my heart, praised be the Lord, 
 is not troubled, neither has fear seized me, because 
 I see the intent of the Lord in it. . . . For the sake 
 of the residue of the seed which is yet ungathered is 
 my life freely sacrificed into the hand of the Lord. 
 ... So let your prayer unto God be for me that I 
 may be kept unto the end, and finish my course with 
 joy, and in all things bring glory and honour to the 
 name of the Lord." He died at the age of thirty- 
 five, cheerfully laying down his life, we are told, 
 *' With perfect understanding, and in an extraordinary 
 enjoyment of the Lord's life, majesty, and presence." 
 Amongst the many hundreds who attended his fune- 
 ral was Sewel the historian, who, young as he then 
 was, greatly loved and revered Josiah Coale, and 
 highly appreciated his kindness ; always availing 
 himself of opportunities to attend meetings where it 
 was said that he would be present. In 1656, two 
 years after they had held the memorable succession 
 of meetings at Bristol, John Camm, and John Aud- 
 land revisited that city. They were devoted friends, 
 and had in the meantime often travelled together, 
 whilst much blessing rested on their labours for their 
 Lord.* Thomas Camm, in consequence of the deli- 
 cacy of his father's health, often accompanied him. 
 
 • Elizabeth Stirredge, of whom there is a sketch in this volume, 
 was another on whose mind an indelible impression was made by 
 the ministry of John Audland. 
 
48 JOHN AUDLAND AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 The strain on the voice and chest of the latter in 
 large meetings, especially when held out of doors^ 
 seemed greater than his consumptive constitution 
 could withstand, and he did not long survive his 
 second visit to Bristol. As his strength slowly ebbed 
 away he told his friends that his " inward man re- 
 vived and mounted upward towards its habitation in 
 the heavens." 
 
 On the day of his death, after addressing his 
 family, he seemed to be in a sweet sleep, from which 
 they thought he would never awake. But, hearing 
 their loud lamentations, he said,. " Dear hearts, ye 
 have wronged me, for I was at sweet rest ; ye should 
 not so passionately sorrow for my departure ; this 
 house of earth and clay must go to its place ; and 
 this soul and spirit is to be gathered up to the Lord 
 to live with Him for ever, where we shall meet with 
 everlasting joy." Then, once more taking leave, he 
 lay down and soon expired. His birthplace was 
 Camsgill, Westmoreland, the ancestral seat of his 
 family. From childhood he had been seriously in- 
 clined, and, like John Audland, had eagerly received 
 the truths taught by George Fox, when he visited 
 their native county in 1652. At that time, we learn 
 from his son, "the world seemed to smile upon him, 
 and the riches and glory of it had exceeding in- 
 creased and were then likely to increase more." But 
 he willingly counted all things loss for the excel- 
 lency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus his Lord. 
 
 He was a powerful minister, and was one of the 
 Friends who visited London in 1654, and first preached 
 and published the doctrines of our Society there. 
 
JOHN AUDLAND AND HIS FRIENDS. 49 
 
 John Audland, who was about twenty-six years 
 younger than himself, keenly felt his death, though 
 he found comfort in the companionship of Thomas 
 Camm, who was often his associate in Gospel service. 
 John Audland died at the age of thirty-four, his life 
 being doubtless shortened by the hardships and perse- 
 cution which he had endured ; for, in addition to close 
 imprisonments, we find allusions to " great perils, 
 sore beatings, and cruel mockings — both of the rabble 
 and also of the bitter-spirited professors." He was 
 very patient during his illness, and often said " Ah ! 
 those great meetings in the orchard at Bristol, I may 
 not forget ! I would so gladly have spread my net 
 over all, and have gathered all, that I forgot myself, 
 never considering the weakness of my body.* But 
 it's well. My reward is with me, and I am content 
 to give up and be with the Lord ; for that my soul 
 values above all things." 
 
 Notwithstanding his weakness, marvellous power 
 was granted him to make the friends who visited 
 him, in some measure, sharers of his joy and over- 
 
 • In a letter written by Francis Howgill to Edward Burrough, when 
 in London in 1656, we find the following allusion to these meetings : 
 — •♦ From Bristol we have received letters from our dear brethren 
 John Audland and John Camm ; the mighty power of the Lord is tHat 
 way: that is a precious city and a gallant people; their net is like 
 to break with fishes, they have caught so much there, and all the 
 coast thereabout. Mighty is His work and power in this His day I 
 Shout for joy all ye holy ones ! for the Lord rides on in power to get 
 Himself a name." Another letter, wiih a similar signature, contains 
 a reference to the same Friends:— "Our hearts were broken in 
 separating one from another, for our lives are bound up in one, and 
 we partake of one another's sufferings and of one another's joy." 
 Like John Audland, Francis Howgill had been an ea£;er recipient of 
 George Fox's message at Firbank Chapel, and had found that the 
 seed then sown in his soul was destined to bring forth a hundredfold. 
 
50 JOHN AUDLAND AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 whelming sense of the love of God, with whose praise 
 his heart was filled. As his strength failed he asked 
 to be raised up in order to kneel, and then fervently- 
 besought the Lord that His whole heritage might be 
 preserved in the Truth, out of the evil of the world. 
 Though tenderly sympathising with his beloved wife 
 he said to her, " My will is in true subjection to the 
 will of the Lord, whether life or death; and therefore 
 give me up freely to His disposing." And she, we 
 read, *' how dear soever he was to her, did so." Ten 
 days after his death she became the mother of a 
 little boy. 
 
 In reference to her loss she writes : — " The Eternal 
 God revealed His Son Christ in us, and gave us faith 
 to believe in Him, the eternal Word of life, by which 
 our souls came to be quickened and made alive. . . . 
 Our hearts were knit together in the unspeakable love 
 of Truth, which was our life, joy, and delight, and 
 made our days together exceeding comfortable. . . . 
 The dolour of my heart my tongue or pen is not able 
 to declare ; yet in this I contented myself that it 
 was the will of the Lord." Anne Audland afterwards 
 became the wife of Thomas Camm, and for forty 
 years, *' in the utmost harmony and nearness of 
 affection," they mutually served their Lord and suf- 
 fered for His sake. Once he was imprisoned at 
 Appleby for six years, and again at Kendal for three. 
 But trials seemed only to fan the flame of devotion 
 in the heart of his wife, who was greatly gifted as a 
 minister : she spent much time alone in fervent 
 prayer, and in reading the Scriptures and religious 
 books. Humble and retiring herself, she was always 
 
JOHN AUDLAND AND HIS FRIENDS. 51 
 
 ready to encourage the weakest of the flock. During 
 a very severe illness she spoke of how she had en- 
 joyed unspeakable peace here, as well as the full 
 assurance of everlasting joy. 
 
 In the autumn of 1705, when in her seventy-ninth 
 year, in a farewell sermon at a Monthly Meeting at 
 Kendal, she implored her friends to be diligent in the 
 -service of God. The following day she was attacked 
 by the illness which terminated her chequered life. 
 After begging her husband to freely give her up, she 
 added, " I have loved thee with my soul and God 
 has blessed us, and will bless thee and be with thee, 
 and make up all thy losses. ... I am full of as- 
 surance of eternal salvation and a crown of glory, 
 through my dear Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. 
 
 She spoke of how much she had desired to send a 
 farewell epistle to Friends at Bristol and Banbury, 
 to " tenderly advise professors of Truth to keep under 
 the power of the Cross of Christ, by which they will 
 be more and more crucified to the world, and baptised 
 into Christ, and put Him on, the new and heavenly 
 man, in whom they will become new creatures and be 
 enabled to serve God in spirit." As she grew worse, 
 her husband suggested sending for one or two of her 
 relatives, but she answered, " Be not careful in the 
 matter ; the Lord my God is near me and I have thy 
 company, and it is enough. . . , The Lord gave us 
 to each other ; let us bless His name, if He now take 
 us from each other in the outward, that is all, for our 
 joining in spirit remains for ever." 
 
 One of the earnest messages she left was for her 
 *' prodigal son," asking his stepfather to still labour 
 
52 JOHN AUDLAND AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 and pray for his return. Some of her last words 
 were, " My hope is only in Thee, my dear Lord."" 
 When, more than fifty years earlier, George Fox was 
 enabled to sow the good seed of faith at Firbank 
 Chapel, he probably little foresaw the marvellous 
 results which would, directly, or indirectly, arise 
 therefrom. 
 
 Though the rough blasts of persecution were per- 
 mitted in that age to be the means of causing 
 Quakerism to take deeper root, can there be any need 
 that it should droop and wither in the sunshine of 
 this ? However true it may be that 
 
 " New to the world at every hour, 
 New runners find new races," 
 
 yet are the conditions of discipleship the same as ever 
 they were — an outward cross to be clung to, and an 
 inward cross to be borne, for the sake of that Saviour 
 who can inspire the heart with " a love so deep as to 
 make obedience a delight.'' From one source, and 
 one alone, must vitality ever spring, and Jesus Christ 
 is the same, yesterday, to-day, and for ever. 
 
53 
 
 EDWARD BURROUGH. 
 
 •* There is no created force in the universe greater than a feeble 
 "human soul, that in simple faith yields up itself wholly to its Saviour 
 as the mere instrument of His mighty power." 
 
 " I HAVE loved Thee from my cradle — from my 
 \'outh unto this day ; and have served Thee faithfully 
 in my generation," were the words of that devoted 
 follower of his crucified Lord, Edward Burrough, 
 when at the age of twenty-eight he laid down his life 
 in Newgate, a victim to the frightfully pestilential air 
 of the gaol, where in one room nearly one hundred 
 Friends were confined with a large number of felons. 
 A fuller record of his inner life, pourtraying more 
 plainly the hidden source of the wonderful outward 
 one, would have been of deep interest, but he seems 
 to have written comparatively little of himself in any 
 way. Edward Burrough's ministry began at the age 
 of eighteen, and, young as he was, it is evident that 
 he had in all reality learnt by heart the lessons which 
 it was his Lord's design that he should be instru- 
 mental, in no common measure, in impressing on 
 others. The messenger whose own soul dwells in 
 the subject of his message cannot but speak with 
 force of the things which, with the eye and ear of 
 faith, he has seen and heard. 
 
 Edward Burrough was born at Underbarrow, in 
 Westmoreland, in 1634 ; his parents, who were mem- 
 
54 EDWARD BURROUGH. 
 
 bers of the Church of England, gave him a good 
 education. He writes concerning his early life : — 
 
 '* When I grew up towards twelve years of age some- 
 thing stirred in me, and showed me that there was a 
 higher religion than that I was exercised in. ... I got 
 to be a Presbyterian, and followed the highest of the 
 priests and professors of that form, and grew in favour 
 with them. Then I left some little of my vanity and 
 lightness, and pride grew up in me. When 1 was about 
 seventeen it pleased God to show Himself a little to me,, 
 and something struck me with terror. ... At this time 
 I was much separated from the vain ways of the world 
 and from worldly people. The preaching of those whom 
 I had formerly much delighted in was withered and de- 
 cayed. Yet it pleased the Lord to show Himself in love 
 to me, and I had sweet refreshment coming in from 
 Him to my soul, and had joy and peace in abundance, 
 and openings of the living truth in me which the world 
 knew not of. The mystery of the Scriptures was some- 
 thing opened, and I saw many glorious things which lie 
 hid under the letter. ... I was brought out of the land 
 of darkness, and could say I was in the light. But not 
 knowing the cross of Christ I ran forth in my wisdom 
 comprehending the mysteries of God. . . . The former- 
 terror was gone, pride grew more than ever, and my de- 
 light was much in discoursing where I gave holy things 
 unto dogs, and cast pearls before swine. . . . The earthly 
 spirit ruled. I had left the Lord my Maker, who had so 
 graciously made Himself manifest to me. I could tell 
 of experiences, but they were dead to me, and something 
 within began to question how it was with me ; for I saw 
 myself to be ignorant more than formerly, and I saw that 
 I knew nothing." 
 
 He greatly longed for the peace which had once 
 been his portion, for he found that it was in vain to 
 try to comfort himself, as he would fain have done, 
 v/ith the doctrine — very prevalent amongst the Cal- 
 vinistic Puritans — " Whom God loves once, He loves. 
 
EDWARD BURROUGH. 55 
 
 for ever." He saw the shallowness of much of the 
 religion professed by those around him, and felt that 
 something of a very different nature would be 
 needed to satisfy the cravings of his soul. It was 
 at this crisis, and when he was about eighteen 
 years old, that George Fox came to Underbarrow, 
 and the young student confessed that this faithful 
 servant of the Lord " spoke the language which he 
 knew not, notwithstanding all his high talking;" yet, 
 unwilling to ''endure the sound doctrine, he at first 
 turned away his ears from the truth," endeavouring 
 to refute it by skilful arguments. But these half- 
 unconscious efforts to fight against God were unavail- 
 ing. He soon saw the agreement of George Fox's 
 teaching with the Scriptures, and the Holy Spirit 
 showed him the state of his own heart ; this sight 
 was followed by a day of weeping, mourning, and 
 misery. ** One vial of wrath after another," he 
 writes, " was poured out, and then I separated from 
 all the glory of the world and betook myself to the 
 company of a poor, despised, and condemned people 
 called Quakers. . . . But praised, praised be the 
 Lord for evermore, who made me partaker of His 
 love, in whom my soul hath full satisfaction, joy, 
 and content." In Christ he had peace, and there- 
 fore could be of good cheef whilst in the world he 
 had tribulation. 
 
 His parents were so incensed at his joining the 
 Friends that they forbade his remaining in the family, i^ 
 and even refused his request to work for them as a 
 servant. Unchristian and cruel as this conduct was 
 at best, one must not forget that to them Quakerism 
 
56 EDWARD BURROUGH. 
 
 seemed a dangerous heresy, and they knew that its 
 upholders were in that day despised and condemned 
 not only by members of the Church of England but 
 by Dissenters also. Almost at once Edward Bur- 
 rough felt that he was called of God to the ministry 
 of the Gospel. Writing of his friends and himself 
 he says : — 
 
 " We tried all sorts of teachers, as many do at this 
 day, and remain not gathered to the Lord. Such we were 
 that sought the Lord and desired the knowledge of His 
 ways more than anything beside. For one I may speak, 
 who from a child, even a few years old, set his face to 
 seek and find the Saviour. After our long seeking the 
 Lord appeared to us, and revealed His glory in us, and 
 gave us of His Spirit. . . . We found this light to be a 
 sufficient teacher to lead us to Christ, from whom it 
 came ; and it gave us to receive Christ, and to witness 
 Him to dwell in us. . . . We hearkened to the voice of 
 the Lord, and felt His word in our hearts to burn up and 
 to beat down all that was contrary to God. Whilst 
 waiting upon the Lord in silence, which we often did for 
 many hours together, with our hearts towards Him, . . . 
 we often received the pouring down of His Spirit upon 
 us, and our hearts were made glad, and our tongues 
 loosened. Things unutterable were made manifest, and 
 the glory of the Father was revealed. Then we began 
 to sing praises to the Lord God Almight}^ and to the 
 Lamb who had redeemed us to God." 
 
 -What was this but a realisation of the prophet's 
 words, " Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse 
 that there may be meat in mine house, and prove me 
 now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not 
 open you the windows of heaven and pour you out a 
 blessing that there shall not be room enough to 
 receive it " ? 
 
 In company with others who had, like himself, 
 
EDWARD BURROUGH. 57 
 
 been deeply reached by the ministry of George Fox, 
 and had willingly given up the world for Christ, 
 Edward Burrough visited the Northern counties of 
 England and some parts of Scotland. In that " day 
 •of good tidings " how could they hold their peace, 
 though their onward path led them through perils 
 and prisons, and brought " beatings and bruisings " 
 upon them ? It was not possible that such labour 
 should be in vain in the Lord ; and there were many 
 who showed the reality of the change wrought in 
 their hearts, by willingness to join a people who met 
 with persecution on every side. Places of public 
 worship, markets, and streets, alike witnessed the 
 ministerial work of Edward Burrough, who was ena- 
 bled very strikingly to discern the spiritual state of 
 those to whom his words were directed. Whilst in 
 prison he prepared a paper called " A Warning from 
 the Lord," at the end of which he thus addressed his 
 suffering brethren : "Be glad and rejoice in the Lord, 
 for you hath He chosen to shine as lights in the 
 world, and to be a burdensome stone to the nations." 
 In the spring of 1654, Edward Burrough came to 
 London. One of the first Friends who had visited 
 this city was Gervaise Benson, a justice of the peace, 
 who in the previous year told George Fox, in a letter, 
 that he had been brought there by the love of God, 
 and was kept there waiting on the Lord, to do what- 
 ever He might require of him. A little before this 
 time some works written by Friends had been pub- 
 lished in the Metropolis, printed, we learn, " for Giles 
 Calvert, and sold at his shop at the Black Spread 
 Eagle, at the West end of Paul's." Many persons 
 
58 EDWARD BURROUGH. 
 
 who had heard of the rise and growth of the Society 
 of Friends in the North of England wished to know 
 more about their views, and to such Gervaise Ben- 
 son's attention was turned. Soon afterwards, Isabel 
 Buttery came from the North to distribute in Lon- 
 don a paper by George Fox, on " The Kingdom of 
 Heaven." Whilst engaged in this work one Sabbath 
 evening in St. Paul's Churchyard, she was brought 
 before the Lord Mayor, and committed by him to 
 Bridewell for the offence of Sabbath-breaking ! There 
 she and a maid-servant who had been with her 
 were lodged in the common gaol, where only those of 
 the lowest character were usually confined. At this 
 period the first meetings of Friends were held in 
 London, in the houses of two brothers named Dring, 
 and were often times of silent waiting on the Lord,, 
 though occasionally a little was said by Isabel 
 Buttery. 
 
 It was with Francis Howgill (who was about six- 
 teen years older than himself) that Edward Bur- 
 rough entered London. So greatly was his ministry 
 blessed that many hundreds were effectually brought 
 to the knowledge of the Lord. Having experienced 
 much of Christ's teaching in his own soul, he was 
 made skilful in speaking the word in season to others. 
 Thomas EUwood describes him as "bold in his. 
 Master's quarrels, yet open and free to every thirsty 
 lamb ;" and he has been styled a Son of Thun- 
 der, yet withal a Son of Consolation. His elo- 
 quence and his powerful voice, like all else, were 
 consecrated to his Saviour's cause ; and from Francis 
 Howgill we learn that, " Oftentimes buffetted, and 
 
EDWARD BURROUGH. 59 
 
 sometimes knocked down, loaded with lies, bearing 
 an exceeding weight of service, he made the work of 
 the Lord his whole business," not spending even one 
 week for himself during the ten years which lay be- 
 tween his conversion and his early death. 
 
 The " subtle spirit of the Londoners " was at first 
 disheartening to these preachers from the Westmore- 
 land dales, but it could prove no insurmountable 
 obstacle, for they came " in the name of the Lord 
 of Hosts," who so gave the increase, that ere long 
 they could say, " Hundreds are convinced and thou- 
 sands wait to see the issue ; very many societies we 
 have visited are now able to stand." One incident 
 is so characteristic of the age and of this young 
 champion of the Cross, that even in this short sketch 
 we cannot pass it by. 
 
 At London, Sewel tells us, it was usual in the 
 summer evenings for many young men, on leaving 
 work, to meet in the fields to show their strength 
 in wrestling, to a crowd of eager onlookers ; pas- 
 sing near the ring at Moorfields, Edward Burrough, 
 then about twenty years of age, stood still and saw 
 how a strong and skilful youth, who had already 
 thrown three combatants, vainly challenged others, 
 none of whom would venture to enter the lists. At 
 this crisis Edward Burrough stepped forward, whilst 
 with bated breath the bystanders watched the issue, 
 not knowing that " it was quite another fight he 
 aimed at." 
 
 Little was the successful wrestler prepared for 
 such an adversary as now opposed him, and he 
 quailed under the steadfast gaze and crushing words 
 
•6o EDWARD BURROUGH. 
 
 of one whose strength had been sharply tested in the 
 conflict with spiritual wickedness. Presently his 
 powerful voice, a fitting medium for the overwhelm- 
 ing words of his message from on high, was heard 
 driving home to the hearts of the wondering and 
 spellbound multitude the reality of the "good fight 
 of faith," as "he reasoned of righteousness, tem- 
 perance, and judgment to come." Seemingly the 
 seed was sown in stony ground, yet none cared to 
 continue the sports, and the crowd separated ; some 
 to confess afterwards that this season had been the 
 turning-point in their lives. 
 
 Whilst Edward Burrough and Francis Howgill 
 were still in London they were thus addressed in a 
 letter from George Fox : — " Stir abroad whilst the 
 door is open, and the light shineth. The Lord give 
 you an understanding in all things, and His arm go 
 along with you that ye may be to His glory. Dear 
 Francis and Edward, in the life of God wait, that ye 
 may with it be led, . . . that as good plow-men and 
 good thresher-men ye may be able to bring out the 
 wheat." 
 
 How well Edward Burrough heeded this counsel 
 we may learn from the Autobiography of William 
 Crouch who, although six years his senior, says that 
 the spiritual relation in which he stood to him was 
 that of a child to a father. " He was a man — though 
 iDut young — of undaunted courage;" William Crouch 
 writes, " The Lord set him above the fear of his 
 •enemies, and I have beheld him filled with power by 
 the Spirit of the Lord. For instance, at the Bull 
 .and Mouthy when the room, which was very large, 
 
EDWARD BURROUGH. 6r 
 
 hath been filled with people many of whom have been 
 in uproars, contending one^with another, some ex- 
 claiming against the Quakers, accusing and charging 
 them with heresy, blasphemy, sedition, and what not; 
 that they were deceivers and deluded the people ; that 
 they denied the Holy Scriptures, and the resurrection : 
 others endeavouring to vindicate them, and speaking 
 of them more favourably. In the midst of all which 
 noise and contention, this servant of the Lord hath 
 stood upon a bench, with a Bible in his hand, for he 
 generally carried one about him, speaking to the 
 people with great authority. . . . And so suitable to 
 the present debate among them, that the whole 
 multitude was overcome thereby, and became exceed- 
 ing calm and attentive, and departed peaceably, and 
 with seeming satisfaction." 
 
 Two distinct kinds of meetings were then held in 
 London. In one of these the Friends gathered quietly 
 together in the name of Christ, the great Head of the 
 Church, to worship the Father in spirit and in truth, 
 that the strength which was ofttimes severely strained 
 might be renewed, that their sinking souls might 
 mount up as on eagles' wings, and that, with hearts 
 enlarged by the more conscious indwelling of the 
 Comforter, they might run and not be weary, and 
 walk — though through much tribulation — and not 
 faint. In this time of our outward ease have we,, 
 their successors, less need than they for putting on 
 the inward armour ? 
 
 The other class of meetings were *' for all sorts and 
 all sects," and were often very large ; the service rest- 
 ing, as George Fox suggested, " on three, or four, or 
 
62 EDWARD BURROUGH. 
 
 six Friends who were grown-up and strong in the 
 Truth." With such workmen, — the secret language 
 of whose souls was, " We have no might, neither 
 know we what to do, but our eyes are upon Thee " ; 
 willing to wait, whilst willing also at their Master's 
 bidding to go forward in faith ; *' steadfast, unmov- 
 able, always abounding in the work of the Lord," 
 because in Him their life was hid, — it was no marvel 
 that many should be added to the Church.* " When 
 we see such multitudes," writes Francis Howgill, 
 ^' we are often put to a stand where one might get 
 bread to satisfy so many ; but the wisdom and power 
 of God has been with us." Very many eagerly 
 drank in the words of these earnest Gospel ministers, 
 who spoke in demonstration of the Spirit and of 
 power ; for their doctrine was no new thing, but the 
 uplifting of Christ as the Light of the World, as 
 being made unto man "wisdom and righteousness, 
 sanctification and redemption " ; as bearing " our 
 sins in His own body on the tree, that we, being dead 
 to sins, should live unto righteousness.^^ 
 
 In the summer of 1654 Edward Burrough and 
 Francis Howgill went to Bristol, where persecution 
 was already threatened. A meeting held in the 
 Castle was attended by several hundreds. When it 
 was over they went for rest to the country house of 
 a captain in the army, whither they were followed 
 by so many anxious to converse with them that the 
 house was filled. Meetings were held daily in and 
 around the city, which were largely attended, and 
 
 * Twenty-five years later there were 10,000 Friends in London alone. 
 
EDWARD BURROUGH. 63 
 
 on which the Divine blessing manifestly rested. 
 The following Sabbath morning they were in the 
 city in the dwelling of a military officer; but his 
 house proving quite too small to hold all who came, 
 they went in the afternoon to the Fort, where about 
 2,000 persons assembled, including many of the chief 
 people of the place. The company was a very quiet 
 one ; but when leaving the spot Edward Burrough and 
 Francis Howgill were so pressed by the awakened 
 crowd as to be glad to turn aside into a private 
 room. The following day they were summoned before 
 the mayor, aldermen, justices of the peace, and clergy. 
 Many officers and other gentlemen, whose hearts had 
 been touched by their ministry, accompanied them, 
 but were not allowed to be present during their 
 examination. When asked why they came to the 
 city, they answered, *' By the command of the Lord, 
 to whose name we have to bear witness, and to declare 
 the Gospel committed unto us." On being ordered 
 to quit the town, they said, " We are freeborn Eng- 
 lishmen, and have served the commonwealth in faith- 
 fulness, being free in the presence of God from the 
 transgression of any law. To your command we 
 cannot be obedient ; but if by violence you put us out 
 of the city, and have power to do it, we cannot resist." 
 For a while longer they laboured in Bristol, and 
 apparently without further interference. During this 
 time some Baptists, from a town in Wiltshire, who 
 had challenged them to a public dispute, having felt 
 themselves obliged to lay down arms, were cowardly 
 enough on their return home to report that the 
 Friends denied Christ and the Scriptures. So when 
 
64 EDWARD BURROUGH. 
 
 the two Friends visited this town, its inhabitants, in. 
 their indignation, had but a rough reception for 
 them ; though granting them leave for a meeting in 
 the market-place to clear themselves. With a deep 
 sense of their own helplessness, they drew near the 
 large assembly, silently seeking for strength from 
 Him whose promise is, " Call upon me in the day of 
 trouble ; I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify 
 me." Very abundantly was it fulfilled whilst for two- 
 hours they spoke with irresistible authority. That 
 evening the mayor called on them, confessing that 
 they had spoken the truth, and that if he did not 
 witness to it his conscience would witness against 
 him ; and a justice of the peace asked them to his 
 house, and was, with his wife, we learn, " convinced 
 of the Truth." This meeting was the means of 
 opening a door for them in the county. 
 
 After a few weeks of earnest work in London^ 
 Edward Burrough and his friend again visited the 
 country. A very large meeting was held in the Isle 
 of Ely, to which Colonel Russell (whose son married 
 a daughter of Oliver Cromwell) sent two ministers, 
 who reported to him that the Quakers were " far 
 before " them. This led the Colonel to invite them 
 to his house, where, in a religious family gathering,, 
 some hearts seemed to be truly touched, and the 
 Colonel's wife shed many tears. 
 
 In the spring of 1655, Edward Burrough believed 
 that he was called on to preach the Gospel in Ireland. 
 On the day of receiving this intimation of duty he 
 felt that, although he must commit himself wholly 
 into the hands of God, a promise was granted him 
 
EDWARD BURROUGH. 65 
 
 that his life should be preserved. Unknown to him, 
 Francis Howgill was summoned to the same field of 
 labour, and with a conviction that Edward Burrough 
 would be his companion in it. From Dublin, the 
 latter — who, notwithstanding his incessant active 
 avocations, was a great writer — addressed a general 
 epistle to his brethren, whom he styles " The camp 
 of the Lord in England." 
 
 Of himself, in a letter to Margaret Fell, he remarks : 
 "As in suffering with Christ I do abound, so my joy 
 by Him and consolation in Him are increased 
 also. . . . We have not spared to wound on the 
 right hand and on the left ; and ' Victory, Victory,' 
 hath been our word of watch." Of this visit he 
 elsewhere writes : "Truly great service for the Lord 
 we had ; . . . there is a precious work begun and 
 seed sown, w^hich shall never die." 
 
 At the end of the year the two friends were placed 
 by force on board a vessel bound for Chester. After 
 travelling in the northern counties, Edward Burrough 
 went to London, where he was soon joined by 
 Francis Howgill, and, holding about twenty meetings 
 a week, it is not to be wondered at that he was 
 " almost spent " ; especially as much mental suffer- 
 ing was endured by himself and his companion in 
 contending with the evil around them. In the follow- 
 ing year, sometimes with a prison for his study, he 
 still freely used his pen : it is interesting to read his 
 unequivocal reply to Bunyan's charge that the 
 Friends said that " salvation was not fully and com- 
 pletely wrought out for sinners, by that man Christ 
 Jesus." He answers : " This accusation is clearly 
 
 F 
 
66 EDWARD BURROUGH. 
 
 false, and wickedly cast upon us ; for there is not 
 salvation in any other, nor is it wrought by any 
 other, but by Jesus Christ. It is fully and completely 
 brought forth by Him unto everyone who believes and 
 receives the testimony of it in themselves." His 
 simple definition of faith is as follows : " Faith is an 
 act of God in the Creature. ... It gives the Creature 
 to believe God in all that He hath promised." 
 
 In an epistle of encouragement to " Such as are 
 found worthy to suffer," this passage is found : "Be 
 ye more watchful, and faithful, and valiant for the 
 Truth upon the earth unto the end ; that you may 
 . . . receive the fulfilling of the promise of God, and 
 may witness God within you, the Emanuel, the 
 Saviour, God with us. All that know this need not 
 go forth to the right hand nor to the left, but salvation is 
 come unto us. He takes away sin, and saves from it 
 and from condemnation. . . . Believe not that spirit 
 which draws back into the world, into its lusts and 
 liberty and fashions, which pass away. That spirit 
 forgets God." He repeatedly wrote addresses of re- 
 monstrance to Oliver Cromwell, and in 1659 published 
 a very remarkable prediction of the persecutions that 
 awaited the persecutors of the Friends, and which was 
 fully verified when, in the following year, Charles II. 
 was made king. In it he says that whilst in Warwick- 
 shire he was one day meditating on the woful wrongs 
 of his people, when a cry went through him, " The 
 Lord will be avenged ! The Lord will be avenged 
 upon His enemies ! He will avenge the cause of His 
 people ;" accompanied with the command, " Write 
 unto the rulers, and yet once more warn them." 
 
EDWARD BURROUGH. 67 
 
 Soon after this Edward Burrough went with Samuel 
 Fisher to Dunkirk (which was then possessed by the 
 English), their object being to visit Jesuits, Friars, 
 and Priests. After conversation with the Capuchin 
 Friars, Edward Burrough sent them some queries in 
 Latin : *' Is it an outward abstinence," he asks, " by 
 the force of locks, and doors, and bolts, or self-sepa- X 
 rated and secret places, that subdues the world's 
 nature in men and women ? Is it by such means 
 that Christ gives victory over sin and overcomes it 
 in His people ? Or is it not by the power of God in 
 the heart only ? " Many meetings were held here, 
 and opportunities were found for satisfactory service 
 in the army, leading Edward Burrough to remark 
 that he *' must commend the spirit of our English- 
 men for moderation more than the men of any other 
 nation." 
 
 Later in the year he published a long document, 
 styled, ''A message to the present Rulers of Eng- 
 land," containing the following prophetic words : 
 ** Your estates shall not be spared from the spoiler, 
 nor your necks from the axe ; your enemies shall 
 charge treason upon you, and if you seek to stop the 
 Lord's work you shall not cumber the earth very 
 long." When, in 1661, a committee was appointed 
 by the House of Commons to prepare and bring in a 
 bill to prevent any injury to the Government from 
 Quakers, &c., refusing to take oaths, and unlawfully 
 convening together, Edward Burrough, George 
 Whitehead, and Richard Hubberthorne, obtained an 
 interview with its members. Characteristically, the 
 last thing said to them by Edward Burrough was 
 
68 EDWARD BURROUGH. 
 
 that, should this measure be passed, " so far from 
 yielding conformity thereunto, he should, through 
 the strength of Christ, meet among the people of 
 God to worship Him ; and not only so, but should 
 make it his business to exhort all God's people 
 everywhere to meet together for the worship of God, 
 notwithstanding the law and all its penalties ; and 
 that he desired this might be reported to the House ! " 
 Well might Francis Howgill say that " he was of a 
 manly spirit in the things of God." 
 
 A little later he had an audience with the king on 
 account of the persecuted Friends in New England, 
 one of whom had already been put to death ; telling 
 the monarch that a vein of innocent blood had been 
 opened in his dominions which, if it were not stopped,^ 
 would overrun all. " But I will stop that vein," was 
 the reply. Owing to Edward Burrough's diligence 
 in following up the matter, a mandamus was sent to 
 Boston, compelling the cruel rulers to release their 
 innocent victims. 
 
 After labouring in the neighbourhood of his birth- 
 place, and visiting Thomas Ellwood (who had been 
 deeply impressed by his ministry), then ill of small- 
 pox, in Oxfordshire, we find Edward Burrough once 
 more in London. Then follows a visit to the Friends 
 at Bristol ; both in meetings and in private he ex- 
 horted them to " faithfulness and steadfastness to 
 that wherein they had found rest unto their souls," 
 and solemnly bade them farewell. " I am going to 
 the city of London again," he said, " to lay down 
 my life for the Gospel, and suffer amongst Friends 
 in that place." Soon after his arrival he was- 
 
EDWARD BURROUGH. 69 
 
 violently arrested, whilst preaching at the Bull and 
 Mouth Meeting-house, and committed by Alderman 
 Brown to Newgate, in which filthy and frightfully 
 crowded gaol his friend, Richard Hubberthorne — of 
 whom he wrote a memorial — died, not long after- 
 wards, in great peace; ''That faith which hath 
 wTought my salvation," he said, " I well know. . . . 
 Out of this straightness I must go, for I am wound 
 into largeness, and am to be lifted up on high, far 
 above all ! " 
 
 Whilst confined amongst the vilest felons, Edward 
 Burrough, in a letter to some of his friends in the 
 country, says that it would be '' too large to relate, 
 and too piercing to their hearts to hear, the violence 
 and cruelty which Friends had suffered : " he begs 
 them to be ready also to die rather than deny Christ 
 before men, or cease from the free exercise of their 
 •consciences. Slightly alluding to the extreme suffer- 
 ings of his companions and himself — easy to read of, 
 hard to realise — he adds, " but the Lord supports!'* 
 King Charles, who greatly respected him, sent an 
 order for his release, which Alderman Brown and 
 others managed to evade. 
 
 It soon became manifest that neither his youth 
 nor strong constitution could withstand the pestilen- 
 tial air. Calmly and patiently he awaited the close, 
 night and day praying exceedingly for himself and his 
 people, whilst not forgetting his enemies, *' Father, 
 forgive them, for they know not what they do." 
 Almost his last words were, " Though this body of 
 clay must return to the dust, yet I have a testimony 
 that I have served God in my generation ; ajtd that 
 
70 EDWARD BURROUGH. 
 
 Spirit which has acted and nded in me shall yet break 
 forth in thousands,'* 
 
 Truly, those who rejoiced at his death — in the 
 belief that the cause which he had advocated would 
 have been injured or destroyed thereby— made, as 
 Sewel says, "a wrong reckoning." "Shall days,, 
 or months, or years," writes his friend Francis How- 
 gill, " wear out thy name as though thou hadst na 
 being ? Oh, nay ! . . The children that are yet un- 
 born shall have thee in their mouths, and thy works 
 shall testify of thee in generations who have not yet 
 a being and shall count thee blessed. . . Oh, Edward 
 Burrough ! I cannot but mourn for thee, yet not as 
 one without hope or faith. . . I am distressed for 
 thee, my brother, very pleasant hast thou been to 
 me, and my love to thee was wonderful, passing the 
 love of women." 
 
 When George Fox heard of the death of this 
 *' valiant warrior, more than a conqueror," so he 
 calls him, — " being sensible how great a grief and 
 exercise it would be to Friends to part with him," 
 he wrote a few lines counselling them, in his deep 
 spirituality, so to dwell in Christ as to " feel dear 
 Edward Burrough among them," that they might 
 thus "enjoy him in the life that doth not change^ 
 which is invisible." 
 
 It is difficult to bear in mind that the vast and 
 varied labours of which this imperfect outline is given, 
 were accomplished between the age of eighteen and 
 twenty-eight. Without any doubt whatever, Edward 
 Burrough was endowed, in common with many 
 others of his time, with a powerful intellect, a large 
 
EDWARD BURROUGH. 7I 
 
 amount of energy of character, and the good gift of 
 physical strength : yet it would be in vain to attri- 
 bute to these what Sewell speaks of as "his very 
 glorious success." Surely it rather lay in this : — 
 called and chosen, and faithful ; — conscious that, 
 without Christ we can do nothing, and being well 
 aware that " There can be nothing servile in the 
 entire resignation of ourselves to be taught of Him, 
 for He is the absolute truth — nothing unmanly in the 
 yielding of our whole being to be wholly moulded 
 by Him"* — he placed /w'msc// and his all at the dis- 
 posal of his Lord. 
 
 In the words of his faithful friend, Francis Howgill, 
 ** his very strength was bended after God." 
 
 ♦ Archbishop Trench. 
 
72 
 
 ELIZABETH STIRREDGE. 
 
 She " had a Guide, and in His steps 
 
 When travellers have trod, 
 Whether beneath was flinty rock 
 
 Or yielding grassy sod. 
 They cared not, but with force unspent, 
 Unmoved by pain, they onward went. 
 Unstayed by pleasures still they bent 
 Their zealous course to God." 
 
 T. T. Lynch. 
 
 " I CAN truly say," remarks Elizabeth Stirredge, 
 when describing the earlier years of her life — " I can 
 truly say that I never coveted heaven's glory, nor to 
 be made a partaker of the riches, glory, and ever- 
 lasting well-being for ever, more than I desired to 
 walk in the way that leads thereunto. And I did 
 as truly believe that the Lord would redeem a people 
 out of the world and its ways." She was born in 
 1634 at Thornbury, in Gloucestershire, and was the 
 child of God-fearing parents (Puritans) by whom she 
 was very carefully brought up. The consistent life 
 of her father, and his fervent prayers in his family, 
 were long remembered by her. " There is a day 
 coming," he would say, " wherein Truth will glo- 
 riously break forth; more glorious than ever since 
 the apostles' days ; but I shall not live to see it." In 
 spite of many advantages the childhood of Elizabeth 
 Stirredge was far from being a happy one. Natu- 
 rally timid and pensive as she was, it does not 
 seem improbable that the training which might have 
 
ELIZABETH STIRREDGE. 73 
 
 suited a more vigorous mental constitution was 
 scarcely adapted to her sensitive nature. She, how- 
 ever, gives no intimation of this herself, and most 
 likely when looking back at her early troubles she 
 could thankfully set her seal to the truth of the 
 blessed declaration, that all things shall work to- 
 gether for good to them that love God. 
 
 When only ten years old she felt that she could 
 take no delight in the pleasures which the world 
 could offer. As she grew older she found satisfaction 
 in intercourse with some religious people, who she 
 says lived up to what was made known to them. It 
 was very delightful to her to listen to their conver- 
 sation ; but soon her sadness returned with the con- 
 viction that she was not living as the people of God 
 did in former times. Unable to find relief in prayer, 
 or comfort in reading the sacred Scriptures, she 
 mourned because she had not lived in the days when 
 the Lord spoke with Moses, in order that she might 
 thus have known His will ; or else in the days when 
 Christ was personally on earth, that she might have 
 followed Him and sat at His feet ; all unconscious 
 that, even in the midst of her trials, He who had 
 loved her with an everlasting love was drawing her 
 into closer fellowship with Himself than any outward 
 one could be. In reference to Satan's subtle allure- 
 ments she writes : — 
 
 ** The enemy will befool as many as he can, there- 
 fore look unto the Lord, and pray unto Him in the 
 inward of your minds, though you cannot utter one 
 word : know it assuredly that He is near to help His 
 afflicted children at all times. Oh that I had known this 
 in my young and tender years when the Lord was near 
 
74 ELIZABETH STIRREDGE. 
 
 me, and at work in my heart, and I knew it not ! . . . 
 I had many times a concern upon my mind which brought 
 great heaviness over my spirit; but I knew not what 
 it was, and I little thought it was the Lord who was 
 ever good and gracious, kind, merciful, and slow to 
 anger. I little thought He looked so narrowly to my 
 ways. . . . He took me by the hand and led me when 
 I knew not of it ; and if I had not hearkened unto the 
 enemy all would have been well." 
 
 It was about this time, and when Elizabeth Stir- 
 redge was twenty years of age, that she attended a 
 meeting held by two Friends, John Audland and John 
 Camm. The ministry of the former sank to the 
 bottom of her heart ; and, leaving her companions, 
 she walked home alone, the cry of her soul being, 
 '' What shall I do to be saved ? I would do anything 
 for the assurance of everlasting life." Her earnest 
 aspirations for a new heart could but be answered by 
 Him who had redeemed her v/ith His precious blood. 
 Writing to her children she tells them that they may 
 " know the way to heaven's glory and to the enjoy- 
 ment of true peace and satisfaction, because it is a 
 straight and narrow way " ; and she begs them to- 
 keep their hearts with all diligence, in order that 
 they may be brought nearer and nearer unto the 
 "Lord and grow in fellowship with Him. " My very 
 aim," she adds, " is to make you a little acquainted 
 with the work of the Lord in my heart, and also 
 with the subtle devices of the enemy ; ... his way 
 is to set baits according unto people's nature, for 
 therein he is most likely to prevail. And because I was 
 of a sad heart and very subject to be cast down, there- 
 fore did he with all his might endeavour to cast me 
 
pirJVBRSITTj 
 
 ELIZABETH STIRREDGE. ^Z^ 75 
 
 down into despair ; . . . many things he cast before 
 me that seemed too hard for me to go through." The 
 precious consciousness of the comforting and sus- 
 taining presence of her Saviour which had for a 
 while been her joy was withdrawn ; and Satan in- 
 sinuated that the sorrow which she felt at the loss of 
 this sweet fellowship was most sinful, and that the 
 fate of the murmurer was to fall in the wilderness. 
 
 Just at this time William Dewsbury [of whom 
 there is a sketch in this volume] visited Gloucester- 
 shire. His soul seems to have been especially 
 drawn out in sympathy for those who were passing 
 through such sorrow as had at one time well-nigh 
 overwhelmed himself. After hearing his comforting 
 language in meeting, Elizabeth Stirredge felt a great 
 longing to open her heart a little to him : and yet 
 imagining that, stranger though he was, an insight 
 would be given him of her spiritual state, she feared 
 that he would speak to her about the hardness of her 
 heart, and that such an additional affliction as this 
 would be more than she could bear. She was not 
 mistaken in supposing that he would understand her 
 case. Before she had reached the spot where he 
 stood the word in season was spoken. ** Dear lamb,"^ 
 he said, "judge all thoughts and believe, for blessed 
 are they that believe and see not. They were blessed 
 that saw and believed, but more blessed are they that 
 believe and see not." " Oh," she writes, " he was 
 one that had good tidings for me in that day, and 
 great power was with his testimony ; for the hard- 
 ness was taken away, and my heart was opened by 
 that ancient power that opened the heart of Lydia :. 
 
76 ELIZABETH STIRREDGE. 
 
 everlasting praises be given unto Him that sits upon 
 the throne for ever." 
 
 She seems to have simply accepted the truth that 
 *' emotion is not faith " ; that when feeling is at its 
 lowest ebb, faith — even from the fact of this great 
 •strain on it — may grow the stronger. " I can only 
 say, "she remarks, " that my heart and soul delighted 
 in judgments. The Lord's end in chastening His chil- 
 <iren is to make them fit for His service." It was 
 about this period, and when Elizabeth Stirredge was 
 twenty-one years of age, that she met with Miles 
 Halhead, another minister in the newly-formed So- 
 ciety of Friends. Looking at her, he said, " Dear 
 child, if thou continue in Truth, thou wilt make an 
 honourable woman for the Lord ; for the Lord God 
 will honour thee with His blessed testimony." Ten 
 years later, and soon after she felt called on to speak 
 in meetings, he was again the bearer of a message 
 to her soul. '' My love and life is with thee," he 
 said, " and that for the blessed work's sake that is 
 at work in thee. The Lord keep thee faithful, for He 
 will require hard things of thee that thou art not aware 
 of ; the Lord give thee strength to perform it ; my 
 prayers shall be for thee as often as I remember thee." 
 ' The cruel persecution to which the Friends were 
 exposed had no terror for her on her own account, 
 for her heart, she says, " was given up to serve the 
 Lord, come what would come " ; and she found that 
 He in whom she trusted not only supported her under 
 grievous trials, but so sanctified them as to cause 
 her to rejoice that she was counted worthy to suffer 
 for Him. 
 
ELIZABETH STIRREDGE. 77 
 
 In the year 1670 she was for a while deeply dis- 
 tressed ; it seemed to be her duty to write an address 
 to King Charles II., and to present it to him in per- 
 son. Such a service appeared to her strange and 
 wonderful, and, having a very low estimate of her 
 own spiritual and mental gifts, she tried to think that 
 Satan was endeavouring to ensnare her into some- 
 thing better suited to a wise and good man, and 
 prayed that a more simple task might be assigned to- 
 her. But such sore sorrow followed this unwilling- 
 ness that she was led to cry, " Lord, if Thou hast 
 found me worthy, make my way plain before me, and 
 I will follow Thee ; for. Lord, Thou knowest that I 
 would not willingly offend Thee." Yet, most natu- 
 rally, her heart yearned for her little children, and 
 shrank from the thought that she might not perhaps. 
 be allowed to return to her family alive. But He who 
 
 Never yet forsook at need 
 
 The soul that trusted Him indeed," 
 
 comforted her with this assurance, If thou canst be- 
 lieve, thou shalt see all things accomplished, and thou 
 shalt return in peace, and thy reward shall be with 
 thee. The address was a very brief one, a solemn 
 warning of what would be the consequences of the 
 bloodshed and persecution of the righteous. This she 
 placed in the King's hands whilst saying, " Hear, O 
 King, and fear the Lord God of heaven and earth.'" 
 He turned pale, but only answered in a sorrowful 
 tone, *' I thank you, good woman." On coming back 
 to her family she found them well. " The Lord," she 
 writes, "afforded me His living presence to accom- 
 
78 ELIZABETH STIRREDGE. 
 
 pany me, which is the greatest comfort that can be 
 •enjoyed, and my coming home was with joy and peace 
 in my bosom." 
 
 Not long afterwards a constable and other ofBcers 
 entered the shop of her husband, James Stirredge, 
 to exact a fine from him for the attendance of him- 
 self and his wife at the meetings of Friends. This 
 he declined to pay, at the same time saying that had 
 he owed the King anything he would surely have 
 repaid him. The constable leant his head on his 
 hand, and remarked that it would be against his 
 conscience to take their goods from them. Elizabeth 
 Stirredge, on hearing this, said, "John, have a care 
 of wronging thy conscience ; for what could the 
 Lord do more for thee than to place His good Spirit 
 in thy heart to teach thee what thou shouldst 
 do and what thou shouldst leave undone ? " He 
 answered that he knew not how to act ; for, although 
 he might take their goods once, the matter would 
 not end there whilst they continued to go to meet- 
 ings, as never had there been like laws. She replied, 
 " John, when thou hast wronged thy conscience and 
 brought a burden on thy spirit, it is not the rulers 
 can remove it from thee. If thou shouldst say, I 
 have done that which was against my conscience to 
 do ; they may say, as the rulers did to Judas, ' What 
 is that to us ? see thou to that.' " The officers, how- 
 ever, who were with him seized some of the goods, 
 but with trembling hands, and compelled a poor man 
 to carry them. " You force me," he said, "to do 
 that which you cannot do yourselves, neither can 
 I." When, a little later, a meeting was held to 
 
ELIZABETH STIRREDGE. 79 
 
 appraise the goods which had been taken from 
 Friends, Elizabeth Stirredge felt, as she sat at work 
 in her husband's shop, that it would be right for her 
 to go to the room where the justices and others were 
 assembled. She did not at all know why this was 
 required of her, but the impression of duty became 
 stronger while she hesitated. On entering the apart- 
 ment she silently took a seat just within the door : 
 some of those present repeatedly said that they could 
 not go on with the business whilst she was with 
 them, and ordered the owner of the house to turn 
 her out ; but he replied that he could not lay hands 
 on her, which made one of the justices leave the 
 room in a violent passion. On his return, " The 
 power of the Lord," she writes, *' fell on me with a 
 very dreadful warning amongst them." A short time 
 after this, two of the company died suddenly in the 
 midst of the joviality of a feast. 
 
 In the year 1670 the persecution reached such a 
 height, that it was at the risk of life itself that the 
 Friends held their meetings. Grievous, indeed, were 
 the outward sufferings of those days, yet to Elizabeth 
 Stirredge and many others they caused far less sorrow I / 
 than did the unfaithfulness of a few of their brethren. 
 The door of the meeting-house being nailed up, the 
 usual attenders felt it right to assemble outside : a 
 bailiff and other officers, followed by an angry crowd, 
 came with clubs to disperse the quiet congrega- 
 tion. But One was in their midst whose name is 
 a strong tower ; and Elizabeth Stirredge and another 
 Friend were enabled to speak words of encourage- 
 ment to the company, and to praise Him who had 
 
80 ELIZABETH STIRREDGE. 
 
 given them a banner to be displayed because of the 
 truth. And the power of the Lord so perceptibly 
 prevailed that their cruel adversaries were awed, 
 though at length they exacted a fine of twenty shil- 
 lings from each of the attenders, most of whom, 
 however, left the spot with rejoicing hearts. John 
 Story, an influential member of the meeting, was 
 much displeased when he found that he could not 
 induce his friends to save themselves by privately 
 assembling for worship ; for they felt that, cost what 
 it might, they must confess their Lord before men. 
 Then a second minister sent a message, suggesting 
 the advantages that would arise from waiting on 
 God in a quiet room instead of in the street. Can we 
 wonder when we learn that some united in this 
 view ? But there were many in those sifting times, 
 including weak women and even children, who seem, 
 with a heaven-taught fortitude, to have delighted in 
 the thought that 
 
 " Love would have his children brave ! " 
 
 Looking steadfastly at the strength of their Almighty 
 leader, they — 
 
 " Said not, 'Who am I ?' but rather 
 * Whose am I, that I should fear ?' " 
 
 Century after century, in testing times such as these, 
 has a simple trust in Christ, and an entire surrender 
 of the soul to Him, triumphed gloriously, overcoming 
 the world. How should we have acted had we lived 
 in those stormy days ? Yet surely such holy con- 
 fidence is needed for the conflict with evil in every 
 age. Very varied are the forms in which it confronts 
 
ELIZABETH STIRREDGE. 8l 
 
 US. And is there less danger in passing over the 
 treacherous marsh than in crossing the foaming 
 torrent; or less cause now for closely following 
 Christ with the constant cry, " Hold Thou me up, 
 and I shall be safe," — than at a period when the path 
 of the pilgrim to the Celestial City did not at least 
 lead him through the perils of outward prosperity ? 
 Very earnest were the prayers of Elizabeth Stirredge 
 by night and day that she might be enabled to hold 
 out to the end, and that the Lord would *' strengthen 
 His weak ones, and make the little ones as strong as 
 David." *' And," she writes, " according to the day 
 was our strength renewed ; blessed be that Hand 
 that never failed us, nor any that put their trust in 
 Him." Above all she desired to know and to do her 
 Lord's will. " Search my heart," was her prayer, 
 "for I love to be searched and tried." She felt that 
 God was calling her to be His messenger, to proclaim 
 a warning in the ears of those who, whilst calling 
 themselves His children, were denying Him before 
 men ; ** which," she says, " made me tremble before 
 the Lord, crying, * Oh Lord ! why wilt Thou require 
 such hard things of me ? Lord look upon my afflic- 
 tions and lay no more upon me than I am able to 
 bear. They will not hear me that am a contemptible 
 instrument. And seeing they despise the service of 
 women so much, O Lord ! make use of them that are 
 more worthy.' . . . Theanswer I received was, 'They 
 shall be made worthy that dwell low in my fear.' " 
 
 About this time Elizabeth Stirredge felt it right 
 to pay a religious visit to the Friends in Wiltshire, 
 where John Story, to whom allusion has been made, 
 
 G 
 
82 ELIZABETH STIRREDGE. 
 
 was causing much trouble, especially by his efforts to 
 persuade others to save themselves by the use of what 
 he found it convenient to call " Christian prudence.'* 
 The distress of Elizabeth Stirredge was great ; and 
 she says that she dreaded attending meetings for 
 fear of what might be given her to express. Miles 
 Halhead, whose words had twice before sunk deeply 
 into her heart, came to see her. 
 
 " He was [she writes] wonderfully endowed with the 
 power of the Lord, and with great discerning; he said, 
 * My love runs unto thee, and that for the work's sake that 
 is in thee ; for God will require hard things of thee ; 
 thou little thinkest what is at work in thy heart. The 
 Lord God of my life keep thee faithful ; m}^ prayer shall 
 be for thee as often as I have thee in remembrance. 
 Thou art as my own life, and sealed in my bosom ; I 
 cannot forget thee, so, dear child, fare thee well. The 
 Lord my God hath sent me forth once more, and when I 
 return home He will cut the thread of my life in two !' 
 And so it was. But, oh ! the goodness of the Lord with 
 that salutation overflowed my whole heart and melted 
 me into tenderness." 
 
 A little later she went to Bristol where John Story 
 
 was much disturbing the meetings by his long and 
 
 lifeless sermons. Her suffering became deeper and 
 
 deeper. 
 
 " Many a time [she writes] have I lain down in my 
 sorrow and watered my pillow with tears. ... I said, 
 ' Oh Lord ! if Thou wilt open my heart to declare of Thy 
 goodness, and what Thou hast done for Thy people, and 
 to tell of Thy noble acts, and Thy manifold mercies, how 
 ready should I be to do it ; but these are hard things, 
 who can bear them ?'...! knew what the Lord 
 required of me as well as I knew my right hand from my 
 left, and would not obey Him. I thought that if anyone 
 •had borne a testimony before me, I could the better have 
 
ELIZABETH STIRREDGE. 83 
 
 borne it ; but to be one of the first — I thought I could 
 not do it. But what mercy did not do judgment did ; 
 for the Lord was pleased to lay His hand heavily upon 
 me, and with His correcting rod chastised me. And I did 
 feel more of the displeasure of the Lord for my back- 
 wardness to His requiringsthan ever I did for my former 
 transgression." 
 
 It was needful that the Lord should choose His 
 own messenger, and also that the lesson of trustful 
 submission should be learnt at any cost ; that there 
 iihould be a willingness to say — 
 
 ** My soul the untried seas would dare, 
 Or sands of every waymark bare, 
 Should but Thy voice distinctly say, — 
 * Go forward, soul, there lies thy way.' " 
 
 But the Master whom Elizabeth Stirredge served 
 is one who delighteth in mercy — who maketh 
 sore that He may bind up, and woundeth that He 
 may make whole. In her intense longing to be re- 
 stored to His favour, she now asked Him to exact 
 from her whatever He pleased, even if it should 
 cause her to be hated of all men. It was on a 
 Sabbath morning that strength was given her to 
 deliver an exceedingly solemn warning to those who, 
 whilst still having the form of godliness, denied its 
 power. Then a minister arose, beginning a sermon, 
 remarkable for the heavenly power which accom- 
 panied it, with these words : " A living testimony is 
 the God of heaven and earth raising up among the 
 poor and contemptible ones, that shall stand over 
 your heads for evermore." It would seem that the 
 Holy Head of the Church saw fit on that occasion, 
 in an unusual degree, to " take to Him His great 
 
84 ELIZABETH STIRREDGE. 
 
 power and to reign " manifestly over the assembly^ 
 ** Oh ! glory be to His everlasting name for evermore 
 [writes Elizabeth Stirredge] for His blessed appear- 
 ance to us that day, who returned me a hundredfold 
 into my bosom after all my unworthy consulting 
 against the motions of the Spirit of so merciful and 
 compassionate a Father, who, after He had corrected 
 me, received me into favour again. Oh ! the peace 
 and comfort and consolation that I received from the 
 Lord, was more to me than all the world and the 
 friendship of it." It was her belief that it was in 
 order to train her for His own service that her Lord 
 had " tried her as silver is tried." 
 
 " There is no hearing of His gracious voice [she writes] 
 but by humbling under His mighty power, and subjecting 
 the mind unto His will ; then doth He make known His 
 mind and will, and then blessed are they that hear His 
 word and obey it. Oh ! blessed be His eternal name for 
 ever and for evermore, for all His mercies, and favours, 
 and blessings, and good gifts, and tokens of His gracious 
 love that He hath bestowed upon me ever since I have 
 had a remembrance." 
 
 It is interesting to notice the frequency of pas- 
 sages of thanksgiving and praise in her journal. 
 Doubtless she felt that it was well worth while to 
 endure the chastening which could afterward yield 
 the peaceable fruits of righteousness; and in the 
 very midst of her sorrows there were seasons when 
 to her hungry soul even bitter things were sweet ; for 
 she remarks : " I can truly say that my heart and 
 soul delighted in judgment, though one woe was 
 poured out after another." 
 
 In 1683 Elizabeth Stirredge found a cruel perse- 
 
ELIZABETH STIRREDGE. 85 
 
 cutor in Robert Cross, the clergyman of the parish 
 of Chew Magna, Somerset, where her family had for 
 some time resided. He was particularly enraged 
 against her because, when visiting a neighbour who 
 was ill, she had felt that a message from on high had 
 been given her " to declare a day of mortality " to 
 some who were in the room, which, she adds, accord- 
 ingly fell out in two or three weeks' time. His anger 
 increased when he found that she had spoken at the 
 funeral of a young Friend when many of his congre- 
 gation had been present. The following week another 
 burial took place, and some officers were sent with 
 a warrant to arrest any one who should venture to 
 preach to the very large company assembled. But 
 no human authority could hinder the accomplishment 
 of His will who has chosen the weak things to con- 
 found the mighty, and it was with a '' spirit greatly 
 enlarged by the power of the Lord, and drawn forth 
 in love towards the people," that Elizabeth Stirredge 
 addressed them; many faces were wet with tears, 
 and not a few promised to amend their lives. By 
 her side meanwhile was the officer with his warrant, 
 which he unfolded with such trembling hands as to 
 endanger tearing it. As he opened it he exclaimed, 
 '' Oh ! that I had been twenty miles from my habi- 
 tation, that I had not a hand in this work this day." 
 When she was brought before the justices one of 
 them said : *' You are an old prophetess ; I know you 
 of old." He had been present when, ten years earlier, 
 ■she had been led to give an awful warning in their 
 midst. To his violent threats she answered that 
 she was not so much afraid of a prison as he imagined. 
 
86 ELIZABETH STIRREDGE. 
 
 though, if by sending her there he shortened her 
 days, he would bring innocent blood upon his head. 
 When he asked if she would keep the King's laws 
 for the time to come, she said : ** I do not know 
 whether ever the Lord may open my mouth again, 
 but if He do, I shall not keep silent." To the ques- 
 tion whether a conventicle had not been held at the 
 house of the deceased Friend, she made no reply 
 until the justice said: "Why do you not answer? 
 I knew she would be dumb." Then she told him 
 that she was no informer, as Judas was when he 
 betrayed his Master. The indignant justice, ad- 
 dressing the officer who had arrested her, said : 
 " You silly fellow, you have let all the men go and 
 have brought a troublesome woman here ; you should 
 have brought two or three rich men to have paid for 
 all the conventicle." This officer, when asked what 
 Elizabeth Stirredge had said at the burial-ground, 
 repeated some of her words, confessing that they 
 had made his heart tremble, and that he had had no 
 power to touch her until she had said all that she 
 had in her heart to say. On hearing this another 
 justice said: " Pray, neighbour Stirredge, go home 
 about your business." She remarks that the honest 
 confession of the poor man who had arrested her did 
 her more good than her release. The clergyman, 
 finding that few of his friends were willing to unite 
 in his plans, sent to Bristol for John Hellier, who 
 was celebrated as a persecutor. 
 
 On a Sabbath morning he and some others rushed 
 into the quiet meeting at Chew Magna ; they ar- 
 rested those present in the King's name, set a guard 
 
ELIZABETH STIRREDGEi 87 
 
 over them, and then went to dine at the clergyman's 
 house. During their two hours' absence, Elizabeth 
 Stirredge says, " We had our solemn meeting peace- 
 ably, wherein we enjoyed the presence of the Lord 
 to our souls' comfort, who never failed His children 
 in a needful hour, but always gave them strength 
 suitable to the day — everlasting honour be given 
 to His holy name." Hellier and his companions 
 returned from their feastings with faggots of wood, 
 hatchet and axe, declaring that they were going 
 to blow up the house and burn the Quakers ; they 
 especially threatened the children, though the treat- 
 ment of others present was violent and brutal, and a 
 mittimus was made committing them to Ilchester 
 Gaol. When the clergyman was told that his work 
 had been well done, he said that it would add 
 years to his life. But very soon some of James 
 Stirredge's neighbours entered his shop, exclaiming, 
 " Now you may abide at home, for Mr. Cross is fallen 
 down dead in the churchyard." Although apparently 
 dead he slightly rallied for a few days, but reason 
 did not return. 
 
 However there were others ready to carry out his 
 schemes, and several Friends were confined in the 
 common gaol with three felons who were under sen- 
 tence of death. Some fellow-sufferers in the next 
 room gave them, through the grating, two blankets, 
 some chaff pillows, and a little straw. The weather 
 was intensely cold, they had not even a stone to sit 
 on, and the ground was damp. Here it was that 
 most of the captives *' took their rest very sweetly," 
 The black walls around them could not shut out Him 
 
88 ELIZABETH STIRREDGE. 
 
 in whose presence is fulness of joy, and they could 
 say, as Richard Baxter did — 
 
 ** Heaven is my roof, earth is my floor ; 
 Thy love can keep me dry and warm ; 
 Christ and Thy bounty are my store ; 
 Thy angels guard me from all harm." 
 
 " No walls or bars can keep Thee out ; 
 None can confine a holy soul ; 
 The streets of heaven it walks about, 
 None can its liberty control." 
 
 As Elizabeth Stirredge lay down in the prison she 
 earnestly prayed that He, for whose sake they were 
 suffering, would comfort them by the consciousness 
 of His own presence. So abundantly did her Lord 
 satisfy her soul with His goodness, that it was only 
 the sight of her sleeping companions that prevented 
 her from praising Him aloud. Several people gathered 
 around the prison door when morning came to learn 
 how many of the inmates were dead, and when they 
 found that all were alive and well they exclaimed, 
 *' Surely they are the people of God if there are any ! " 
 A meeting was held in the prison. "The good 
 presence of the Lord," writes Elizabeth Stirredge, 
 *' was wdth us, and filled our hearts with joy and 
 gladness, insomuch that I was constrained to testify, 
 in the hearing of many people, that we were so far 
 from repenting our coming there, that we had great 
 cause to give glory, honour, and praise to the Lord ; 
 for His powerful presence was with us, and sanctified 
 our afflictions, and made the prison like a palace tmto 
 us." How long this imprisonment lasted we are not 
 told. To Elizabeth Stirredge it appeared that even 
 
ELIZABETH STIRREDGE. 89 
 
 through these sufferings the Lord was honouring His 
 steadfast servants by weaning them more and more 
 from the world. 
 
 " Amongst all the blessed seasons of His love [she 
 says] this was the greatest of mercies unto me, for the 
 God of heaven and earth was with us at our downlying 
 and uprising, ... It seemed to me as if I had no habita- 
 tion but the prison : theji was the time for the Lord to re- 
 veal His secrets unto His children that He had tried and 
 proved ; ... for I cannot believe that he that is not true 
 to a little will ever be made ruler over much. ... A 
 great concern came upon me for many careless ones that 
 had deprived themselves of that blessed benefit that our 
 ■souls enjoyed with the Lord." 
 
 Most fervent were her prayers for such as these, 
 as well as for the deliverance of her persecuted 
 people ; and, whilst still with her husband in Ilches- 
 ter Gaol, an assurance was afforded her that God 
 would speedily proclaim liberty to the captives, who 
 should declare His wondrous works that many might 
 •" hear and fear, and return unto Him." Night and day 
 did she rejoice in her inmost soul at these glad tidings ; 
 and, whilst wondering at the condescending goodness 
 of God, she besought Him to preserve her in His 
 fear for ever. 
 
 When the Friends were tried at the sessions of 
 Browton, she fully believed that the time for their 
 release was at hand, although a second jury had been 
 called, whom the persecutors hoped would suit their 
 purpose. When they returned to the court, the fore- 
 man was so much agitated that he could scarcely 
 give the verdict, ** Guilty of not going to church, but 
 not guilty of a riot." " Of not going to church," re- 
 
90 ELIZABETH STIRREDGE. 
 
 peated the Bishop.; " that is not the matter in hand. 
 Guilty of a riot you mean." But other members of 
 the jury said, " No, my lord; guilty of not going to 
 church, but not guilty of a riot." Whilst the justices 
 were dining, Elizabeth Stirredge says a great concern 
 fell upon her to follow them. When the meal was. 
 over she addressed them, vindicating the innocency 
 of the downtrodden Quakers, and adding: "There is 
 not a man here, nor any that draws breath in the 
 open air, that shall escape the tribunal seat of God's, 
 divine justice," &c. 
 
 When, on the following morning, the prisoners 
 were called into the court, they found that the Bishop 
 had absented himself, and the behaviour of the Judge 
 was altogether changed. More than eighty persons 
 were that day set free. " Men would ruin you, but 
 God will not suffer them so to do," were the words of 
 the Crier, who took an affectionate leave of the 
 Friends whilst begging their forgiveness for the part 
 he had to act in the court. 
 
 Elizabeth Stirredge spent the last fourteen years of" 
 her life at Hempstead, in Hertford. As her strength 
 lessened, her labours of love were pretty nearly 
 limited to that county, and were highly valued. When 
 earnestly exhorting all to faithful dedication, she 
 delighted to dwell on the wonders which " the great 
 God of heaven and earth, that brought up the children 
 of Israel out of Egypt's bondage," had wrought 
 amongst her people as they put their trust in Him.. 
 To her children she writes : ** Oh ! what shall I say 
 in the behalf of all the Lord's wondrous works that 
 mine eyes have seen ; but more especially the inward 
 
ELIZABETH STIRREDGE. QI 
 
 work of regeneration ! Oh ! my tongue is not able to 
 demonstrate the tenth part of it that He hath been 
 pleased to bring me through 1 " She died in 1706, at 
 the age of seventy-two. 
 
 Whilst pondering such lives as hers, shall we not 
 do well to remember that we have the same unwearied 
 enemy to withstand, though now he may wield his 
 weapons in a different way; and that still the only 
 victory that overcometh the world is faith — that faith 
 which can alone be exercised by the faithful follower 
 of Christ ? Therefore, may it be the aim of each to 
 give his whole heart to the Lord who died for him. 
 The righteous in all ages could do no more than this, 
 and why should any be content without steadfastly 
 striving to do as much ? 
 
92 
 
 WILLIAM DEWSBURY ; AND HIS WORDS OF 
 COUNSEL AND CONSOLATION, 
 
 " A King shall reign and prosper, . . . and this is His name whereby 
 He shall be called, The Lord our righteousness." — Jer. xxiii. 5, 6. 
 
 " Whatsoever thou hungerest and thirstest for in His life, thou art 
 the heir of it, and the Lord will satisfy thy hunger with His refresh- 
 ings for His name's sake. — W. Dewsbury. 
 
 The early years of William Dewsbury's life were 
 •spent as a shepherd's boy at Allerthorpe, in York- 
 shire. His father died when he was eight years old 
 {probably about the year 1630), and whilst giving 
 vent to his sorrow in tears, he seemed to hear a voice 
 saying, " Weep for thyself, for thy father is well." 
 Exceedingly powerful was the impression then made 
 •on his mind. " Deep sorrow seized on me," he says, 
 " and I knew not what to do to get acquaintance 
 with the God of my life." When about thirteen, 
 having heard of some Puritans living near Leeds, 
 his anxiety was great to meet with them, and he 
 "begged his friends to find him some employment in 
 that neighbourhood, quite indifferent as to what it 
 might be, if it only brought him among those who 
 feared the living God, that he might " thus become 
 acquainted with the God of his life." But dis- 
 appointment awaited him ; he found none who could 
 tell him " what God had done for their souls in re- 
 deeming them from the body of sin. The flaming 
 
WILLIAM DEWSBURY. 93. 
 
 sword, the righteous law of God," he adds, *' cried in 
 me for a perfect fulfilling of the law, so that I could 
 find no peace in that worship of God the world had set 
 up." His health suffered from these spiritual con- 
 flicts, and he found it hard to carry out the require- 
 ments of the cloth-weaver to whom he was appren- 
 ticed, though doing his utmost to fulfil them. 
 
 When about twenty years of age he entered the 
 parliamentary army. His biographer imagines that 
 he had been led to believe that by this step he " would 
 be going up to the help of the Lord against the 
 mighty ; " that " he was willing to give his body 
 unto death, if by such a measure it had been possible 
 to have freed his soul from sin." Failing to find the 
 associates he longed for in the army, he visited Edin- 
 burgh, where, he tells us, that he only found form- 
 ality ; nor did his intercourse with Independents and 
 Anabaptists bring light to his soul. 
 
 ** Then," he says, *' the Lord discovered to me that His 
 love could not be attained to by anything I could do in 
 any outward observances, and in all these turnings of my 
 carnal wisdom, while seeking the kingdom of God with- 
 outj thither the flaming sword turned to keep the way of 
 the tree of life and fenced me from it. . . . Then my 
 mind was turned within by the power of the Lord. . . . 
 And the word of the Lord came unto me and said, ' Put 
 up thy sword into its scabbard ; if my kingdom were of 
 this world then would my servants fight ; knowest thou 
 not that, if I needed, I could have twelve legions of 
 angels from my Father ? ' which word enlightened my 
 heart and discovered the mystery of iniquity ; it showed 
 the kingdom of Christ to he within, and that, its enemies 
 being within and spiritual, my weapons against them 
 should also be spiritual — the Power of God." 
 
 WiUiam Dewsbury now resumed his old occupation 
 
94 WILLIAM DEWSBURY. 
 
 as a cloth-weaver, and whilst his hands were thus 
 diligently employed, his mind was frequently engaged 
 in waiting on the Lord. Carnal weapons were laid 
 down, but spiritual weapons were wielded in a con- 
 ilict more severe than any outward one ; but being 
 wielded in that faith, the trial of which is more pre- 
 cious than of gold that perisheth, he found that they 
 were mighty through God to the pulling down of 
 strongholds : — 
 
 " He saw his sad estate, condemn'd to die ; 
 
 Then terror seized his heart and dark despair; 
 But when to Calvary he turned his eye, 
 
 He saw the cross and read forgiveness there." 
 
 It was about this time that William Dewsbury 
 married a young woman who, like himself, had passed 
 through many inward conflicts. A few days after 
 this event — when returning from a trial concerning 
 some property which had been unjustly decided 
 against him — he was tempted with doubts about the 
 propriety of his marriage, as it seemed likely that 
 his wife might be brought to poverty. But having, 
 through long and bitter experience, learnt how utterly 
 powerless he was to overcome temptation in his own 
 strength, he turned away from it to his Almighty 
 Helper, with the prayer that the Lord '' would make 
 him content to be what He would have him to be." 
 Immediately he felt in an overwhelming manner the 
 presence of his Lord ; so exceeding was the weight 
 of glory that he thought that his mortal frame could 
 not long endure it, and he heard as it were a voice 
 saying, " Thou art mine ; all in heaven and in earth is 
 
WILLIAM DEWSBURY. 95 
 
 mine, and it is thine in me ; what I see good I will 
 give unto thee, and unto thy wife and children." 
 
 It was at Synderhill Green, in Yorkshire, that 
 William Dewsbury and George Fox first met. The 
 latter writes in his Journal that, " At an evening 
 meeting there, William Dewsbury and his wife came 
 and heard me declare the Truth. And after the 
 meeting, it being a moonlight night, I walked out 
 into the field : and William Dewsbury and his wife 
 came to me into the field, and confessed to the 
 Truth and received it ; and after some time he did 
 testify to it." Sewel says : — " He was one who had 
 already been immediately convinced, as George Fox 
 himself was ; who coming to him found himself in 
 unity with him." In the year 1652, " The Word of 
 the Lord," writes William Dewsbury, *' came unto 
 me, saying, * The leaders of my people cause them 
 to err, in drawing them from the light in their con- 
 sciences (which leads to the anointing within, which 
 the Father hath sent to be their Teacher, and would 
 lead them into all Truth) to seek the kingdom of 
 God in observances where it is not to be found. . . . 
 Freely thou hast received, freely give and minister : 
 and what I have made known unto thee in secret, 
 declare thou openly." Six years , earlier he had felt 
 a strong inclination to invite others, as a public 
 preacher of the Gospel, to come to the Saviour so 
 precious to his own soul : but he was taught by the 
 Holy Spirit that the time for this was not yet come, 
 and that if he waited until a future year there would 
 be a greater openness in the minds of the people 
 to receive his message. Knowing the voice, and 
 
96 WILLIAM DEWSBURY. 
 
 following his Shepherd, he quietly pursued his trade, 
 holding meetings for worship in his own house and 
 neighbourhood, in which, apparently, his voice was- 
 not heard. But " the tongue of fire, when it came,, 
 made up abundantly for all delays." 
 
 This time of waiting was one of the most momen- 
 tous in his history, — a time in which he learned 
 what has been called " one of the hardest lessons we 
 ever learn in our lives, — that having Christ, we have 
 salvation also ; . . . having the fountain, we have 
 its issuing streams."* Like the great Apostle he 
 was led to cry, " Oh, wretched man that I am ! 
 who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" 
 "As I was crying to the Lord," he says, "to free 
 me from the burden I groaned under, the word of 
 the Lord came to me, saying, * My grace is sufficient 
 for thee, I will deliver thee.' And by the power of 
 this Word I was armed with patience to wait in His 
 counsel ; groaning under the body of sin in the day 
 and hour of temptation, until it pleased the Lord to- 
 manifest His power to free me, which was in the 
 year 1651." From his own sore and unavailing 
 struggles with sin he had been taught that the only 
 victory which overcometh is faith in Him who "bare 
 'our sins in His own body on the tree, that we, being 
 dead to sins, should live unto righteousness"; wha 
 is ever ready to take hold of shield and buckler, and 
 stand up for our help. Knowing that neither height 
 nor depth was able to separate him from the love 
 of God, he did not fear to abandon himself fully, and 
 
 * Dr. Boardman. 
 
WILLIAM DEWSBURY. 97 
 
 trust himself wholly to His keeping, neither wishing 
 nor daring to limit the Holy One of Israel in what 
 He should do with him, exact from him, or bestow 
 upon him. He believed that God " is able to do ex- 
 ceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, 
 according to the power that worketh in us," and 
 according to his faith was it unto him. '' Through 
 the righteous law of the Spirit of Life in Christ 
 Jesus," he writes, *' I was and am made free from 
 the body of sin and death ; and through these great 
 tribulations, my garments are washed and made 
 white in the blood of the Lamb, who hath led me 
 through the gates of the city into the New Jerusa- 
 lem, . . . where my soul now feeds upon the tree of 
 life, which I had so long hungered and thirsted after, 
 that stands in the paradise of God." 
 
 When on his death-bed, alluding to this period of 
 his life, he said that he never afterward " played the 
 coward, but as joyfully entered prisons as palaces, 
 telling his enemies to hold him there as long as they 
 could ; and in prisons he sang praises to his God, 
 and esteemed the bolts and locks put upon him as 
 jewels." 
 
 " Who that one moment hath the least descried Him, 
 Dimly and faintly, hidden and afar. 
 Doth not despise all excellence beside Him, — 
 Pleasures and powers that are not and that are." 
 
 It is not the object of this brief sketch to give the 
 details of the numerous hardships, sufferings, and 
 long imprisonments which William Dewsbury wil- 
 lingly endured in the service of his Lord. Once he 
 
 H 
 
98 WILLIAM DEWSBURY. 
 
 was confined in Warwick Gaol for nearly eight years ; 
 and at a later period for six years more, when his 
 little grand-daughter, Mary Samm, though only twelve 
 years old, left her father's home in Bedfordshire, 
 that she might comfort him in his captivity ; but a 
 violent fever, most easily accounted for by the hor- 
 rible state of the prison, soon ended her life. She 
 appears to have been a child of remarkable character, 
 and to have partaken of the religious fervour for 
 which this era was specially distinguished. To her 
 aunt, Joan Dewsbury, she said, "Not any one knows 
 my exercise, but the Lord alone, that I have gone 
 through since I came to Warwick ; " and the next 
 day she remarked, *' If this distemper do not abate, 
 I must die : ... O, Lord, if it be thy will, take me 
 to Thyself. . . . Oh ! praises, praises be to thy holy 
 name for ever, in thy will being done with me, to 
 take me to thyself, where I shall be in heavenly joy, 
 yea, in heavenly joy for ever and for evermore." To 
 her grandfather she said, " I do believe it is better 
 for me to die than to live. . . . Dear grandfather, I 
 do believe that thou wilt not stay long behind me, 
 when I am gone." " Dear granddaughter," he an- 
 swered, " I shall come as fast as the Lord orders my 
 way." She remarked to her mother, " My grand- 
 father and I have lived here so comfortably together 
 that I am fully satisfied as to my coming to him. . . . 
 And, dear mother, I would have thee remember my 
 love to my dear sisters, relations, and friends ; and 
 now I have nothing to do, I have nothing to do." 
 ** After which," William Dewsbury writes, *' she 
 asked what time of day it was. It being the latter 
 
WILLIAM DEWSBURY. 99 
 
 part of the day, I said, ' The chimes are going four.' 
 She said, * I thought it had been more ; I will see if 
 I can have a little rest and sleep before I die.' And 
 so she lay still, and had sweet rest and sleep ; then 
 she awoke without any murmuring, and in a quiet, 
 peaceable frame of spirit, laid down her life in peace 
 when the clock struck the fifth hour." 
 
 In 1657, when visiting Devon, William Dewsbury 
 felt a strong impression that a storm of persecution 
 awaited him, and, at Torrington, he shortly after- 
 wards had to encounter it. He was arrested, and 
 brought before the mayor and other officers, some of 
 whom he says, " were very cruel and wicked against 
 the truth of God, and did deal very rudely with me." 
 But when, in reply to their questions, he " was free 
 in the Lord to declare to them how he came to be a 
 minister of Christ," one of the justices could not 
 refrain from tears, and the clerk said, " If thou hadst 
 spoken thus much before, there had not been this to 
 be done." Yet he was sent back to lie on the bare 
 floor of his prison. When next brought before them 
 he tells us, " My God had pleaded my cause ; . . . 
 the man that said I should see his face no more 
 until I was before the judge at Exeter, pulled the 
 mittimus in pieces before my face, and said to me, 
 * Thou art free.' So did my God set me free." 
 
 The ministry of William Dewsbury is thus des- 
 cribed in a little book by ** that ancient servant of 
 God, Thomas Thompson": — O! how was my soul 
 refreshed and the witness of God reached in my 
 heart. I cannot express it with pen ; I had never 
 heard or felt the like before, ... so that if all the 
 
lOO WILLIAM DEWSBURY. 
 
 world said Nay, I could have given my testimony 
 that it was the everlasting truth of God." 
 
 It was said by one who intimately knew him, that 
 *' to the tender he was exceedingly tender," which 
 those who have read his epistles can well believe. 
 " Beloved are you," he writes, ** that hunger and 
 thirst after righteousness ; for you are the children 
 of the kingdom of my Father. With you my life is 
 bound up." One of these pastoral letters has this 
 superscription : *' Let this go abroad amongst all 
 the afflicted and wounded in spirit." The following 
 passages are taken from it : — 
 
 " Oh, thou child of the morning, of the pure eternal 
 day of the God of Israel, hearken no longer to the 
 enemy who saith there hath none travelled where thou 
 art travelling, neither drunk of the cup that thou art 
 drinking. ... In the word of the Lord God I declare 
 unto thee, I drank the same cup, with my faithful friends, 
 who are born of the royal seed ; every one in their mea- 
 sure have travelled in the same path, and have endured 
 the same temptations. . . . The Lord God, He will throw 
 down the enemy of thy peace. ... So in the power of 
 His might, stay thy heart ; and tread upon all doubts, 
 fears, despairing, thoughts, questionings, reasonings^ 
 musings, imaginations, and consultings. Arise over them' 
 all in the light of Christ. He will lead thee into the ban- 
 queting-house of the pleasure of our God. . . . And this- 
 shall be the portion of thy cup, if thou diligently hearken 
 to the counsel of the Lord which calls thee to trust in 
 Him. He will embrace thee in the arm of His love, and 
 thou shalt praise His name for ever ! God Almighty, 
 in His light and life, raise up thy soul, . . . steadfastly 
 to wait for His power to lead thee in the cross out of all 
 unbelief." 
 
 At another time he writes : — 
 
 " Watch over one another, . . . opening your hearts 
 
WILLIAM DEWSBURY. lOI 
 
 in the free Spirit of God to them that are in need, that 
 you may bear the image of your Heavenly Father, who 
 relieveth the hungry, and easeth the burdened, and 
 maketh glad in refreshing His, in the time of need. 
 Even so be it with you in the name of the Lord." 
 
 Again, as an ambassador for Christ, constrained 
 by His love, he writes : — 
 
 *'0/t, come away, come away, out of all your thoughts, 
 desires, doubts and unbelief, which would turn you aside 
 from the enjoyment of the love of God in Christ ^esus. 
 Let none stand afar off because of your littleness, lame- 
 ness, blindness, weakness or infirmities, who cannot 
 live at peace until you be healed by the blood of the Lamb. 
 . . . Giveuptothedrawingspirit of life in the light of Jesus 
 Christ. He will carry thee that canst not go, in the arms 
 of his compassions ; He will cause the lame to walk ; and 
 thou who art sensible of thy blindness, to recover thy 
 sight ; yea. He will heal thee of all thy infirmities, who 
 waitest in the light, to be ordered and guided as a little 
 child by the washing and sanctifying Spirit of the Lord 
 Jesus. . . . Oh ! what shall I say of the unspeakable 
 love of God in Christ Jesus, the husband of the bride. 
 Oh ! ye sons of the glorious day, read and feel in the 
 deep tastes of the unsearchable love, and you handmaids 
 of glory, drink of the inexhaustible ocean which in the 
 light flows over all opposition. This is the Son of the 
 Father's love, . . . wounded for our transgressions ! 
 . . . Let all crowns be thrown down before Him, He 
 alone shall have the glory. . . . Whatever the natural 
 man most inclines to, when the temptations beset you . . . 
 look up to the Lord and resist the devil with boldness.in 
 the first assault, and the Lord God will give you do- 
 minion over them, . . . that in the perfect freedom every 
 particular individual may reign in the measure of the 
 light, over every thought and desire that is contrary to 
 the will of God. . . . You shall break down Satan under 
 your feet, . . . and shall overcome through the blood 
 of the Lamb ; . . . and continually drink of the rivers 
 of pleasure, the presence of the Lord Jesus, our Light, 
 
102 WILLIAM DEWSBURY. 
 
 Life and Righteousness for ever. . . . Thou who lovest 
 the Hght and bathest thy soul in the ocean of His in- 
 expressible mercies, shall never more want the fresh 
 springs of life. The Lord will keep thee in the safety 
 of His power." 
 
 Early in 1688, William Dewsbury visited London- 
 Very striking was a long sermon preached by him in 
 Gracechurch Street Meeting, a few weeks before his. 
 death, the following brief extract may give some 
 idea of its tenor : — " . . . Become as a little child,, 
 humbled and slain as to thine own will. . . . Thou 
 wilt not question, * Shall I live a holy life ? ' but will 
 give all that life thou hadst for that life which is hid 
 with Christ in God. O ! there is none come so far,, 
 that ever miss of eternal life. All shuffling people 
 that would have salvation by Christ and will not let 
 Him exercise his heavenly power, his princely, glori- 
 ous power, to baptise them into his death — it is they 
 that come short of salvation." 
 
 Some friends having met together in his room^ 
 about a week before his death (which took place at 
 Warwick), he, notwithstanding his weakness, rose 
 from his bed to address them. " Fear not, nor be 
 discouraged," were some of his concluding words, 
 *' but go on in the name and power of the Lord; 
 and bear a faithful and living testimony for Him in 
 your day ; and the Lord will prosper His work in 
 your hand, and cause His Truth to flourish and 
 spread abroad." 
 
 Of this faithful servant of God, may we not say 
 that he, being dead, yet speaketh ? Jesus Christ is 
 the same yesterday, to-day and for ever. What' 
 
WILLIAM DEWSBURY. IO3 
 
 William Dewsbury and other of the devoted early 
 Friends were they were by the grace of God alone. 
 And His promise to those who " chose the things 
 that please Him, and take hold of His covenant," 
 can be no less sure now than it was two centuries 
 ago — " Even unto them will I give, in mine house 
 and within my walls, a place and a name better than 
 of sons and of daughters : I will give them an ever- 
 lasting name, that shall not be cut off." 
 
104 
 
 JOHN CROOK. 
 
 " The longer I was in finding whom I sought, 
 The more earnestly I beheld Him being found." 
 
 Beda. 
 
 " I WILL not serve thee, O Satan, but I will serve 
 the Lord God of heaven and earth whatsoever I suffer, 
 or becometh of me therefor." Such were the words 
 vehemently spoken by John Crook, when a little lad 
 of some nine or ten years. Although so young he 
 was no stranger to spiritual conflict, and it was when 
 on the point of yielding to a violent assault of the 
 enemy that he became aware of a mightier power 
 within him, strengthening him to boldly resist the 
 temptation. But a child's heart is small for so sore 
 a combat, and he soon felt frightened and bewildered 
 at the " opposite strivings " in his soul ; yet, from 
 the mental relief afforded him, he at last thought 
 that his deliverer could be no other than the Lord 
 Himself. After this memorable hour he would, 
 oftener than before, seek for some secret place to 
 pray for help in the time of trial. Many were the 
 tears shed at such seasons as he thought over his 
 sins ; for when alone he says that he was " sure to 
 hear of his doings." Yet he found himself unable to 
 keep the promises of amendment which he made, 
 and his soul was often weighed down with sorrow. 
 
 When he witnessed the natural and healthy de- 
 light which other children took in play, he thought 
 
JOHN CROOK. 105 
 
 that they must be better than he, and that it was in 
 anger that God was correcting him. Indeed, it 
 would be strange if at so early an age he could have 
 conceived that at times — 
 
 " The sharpest discipline 
 On best-loved child is laid." 
 
 His home was in the " North country," where he 
 was born in 1618. At the age often or eleven he was 
 sent to London and attended several schools there 
 until he was about seventeen. He states that the 
 family with whom he was ** scoffed at all strictness," 
 so he spent his spare time in solitude and prayer, 
 weeping much from the sense given him of his sin- 
 fulness. During these years he did not — to quote 
 his own words — " mind hearing of sermons, being 
 little acquainted with any that frequented such exer- 
 cises." However, when afterwards apprenticed in 
 another London parish he often heard a Puritan 
 minister; he read the Bible much, and other good 
 books, and so earnestly poured out his soul in his 
 prayers, that he subsequently found the family 
 with whom he lived sometimes secretly listened to 
 him. 
 
 •* I remember [he writes] when I was most fervent in 
 my devotion, something in me would be still pulling me 
 back, as it were, as if I would not wholly yet leave those 
 evils I knew myself guilty of, but would gladly have them 
 pardoned and forgiven, and yet would I continue in them, 
 which at last made me conclude I was but a hypocrite. 
 ... I continued professing, and praying, and hearing, 
 and reading, and yet I could not perceive any amend- 
 ment in myself; but the same youthful vanities drew 
 away my mind as before.'' 
 
I06 JOHN CROOK. 
 
 Working hard by day, and shortening his hours of 
 rest, John Crook was often allowed by his master to 
 attend religious lectures and meetings. Whilst 
 listening to different sermons he felt himself "tossed 
 up and down from hope to despair." He did not 
 dare to tell any minister of his distress, lest he 
 should be driven to despair if another judged as 
 hardly of his condition as he himself did. With his 
 mind in this state one cannot greatly wonder at the 
 singular determination he one day came to, nor 
 doubt that the delivering hand of the Lord was then 
 outstretched to help him. 
 
 " I resolved [he says] one First-day afternoon, 
 being full of trouble, to go that time which way I 
 should be moved or inclined in spirit, whether it was 
 up street or down street, east or west, north or south, 
 without any predetermination or forecast, but only 
 as I should be led." Wandering on in this strange 
 manner he at length entered a church, where a young 
 clergyman preached from the text, " He thatwalketh 
 in darkness and hath no light, let him trust in the 
 name of the Lord and stay upon his God " — describ- 
 ing the state of one who, though fearing the Lord> 
 yet walked in darkness, as if he had clearly known 
 John Crook's distress, and was speaking to him only. 
 Greatly was he comforted, and it was even with a 
 rejoicing heart that he left the place ; but this con- 
 solation did not last long, for he writes of trouble 
 overtaking him " through some negligence and cold- 
 ness which gendered to distrust and unbelief." He 
 thus experienced that if the soul consciously with- 
 holds any allegiance from Christ it cannot at the 
 
JOHN CROOK* 107 
 
 same time exercise unwavering faith in His all-avail- 
 ing aid. When his misery was inexpressible, as he 
 was one day sitting alone, he says 
 
 ** that on a sudden there arose in him a voice audible to 
 the spiritual ear, ' Fear not, O thou tossed as with a 
 tempest and not comforted, I will help thee; and although 
 I have hid my face from thee for a moment, yet with 
 everlasting lovingkindness will I visit thee, and thou 
 shalt be mine.' ... I was filled with peace and joy like 
 one overcome, and there shone such a light within me 
 that, for the space of seven or eight days' time, I walked 
 as one taken from the earth. I was so taken up in my 
 mind as if I walked above the world, not taking notice 
 (as it seemed to me) of any persons or things as I walked 
 up and down London streets, I was so gathered up in 
 the marvellous light of the Lord, and filled with a joyful 
 dominion over all things in this world; in which time I 
 saw plainly, and to my great comfort and satisfaction,, 
 that whatever the Lord would communicate and make 
 known of Himself and the mysteries of His kingdom, He 
 would do it in a way of purity and holiness. I saw then 
 such a brightness in holiness, and such a beauty in an 
 upright and pure righteous conversation and close cir- 
 cumspect walking with God in a holy life, . . . that it 
 sprang freely in me, that all religion and all profession 
 without it were as nothing in comparison with this com- 
 munion. For I remember, while I abode and walked in 
 that light and glory which shone so clearly on my mind 
 and spirit, there was not a wrong thought appearing or 
 stirring in me but it vanished presently, finding no enter- 
 tainment ; my whole mind and soul was taken up with,, 
 and swallowed up of, that glorious light and satisfactory 
 presence of the Lord thus manifested in me." 
 
 Long after, in a very beautiful letter of sympathy 
 to Isaac Penington, John Crook says : — 
 
 " Be thou still in thy mind, and let the billows pass 
 over, and wave upon wave ; and fret not thyself because 
 
I08 JOHN CROOK. 
 
 •of them, neither be cast down as if it should never be 
 otherwise with thee. The days of thy mourning shall be 
 over, and the accuser will God cast out for ever. For 
 therefore was I afflicted and not comforted, tempted and 
 tried, — for this end — that I might know how to speak a 
 word in due season unto those that are tempted and 
 afflicted as I once was ; as it was said unto me in that 
 day when sorrow lay heavy upon me, By these things 
 thou wilt come to live in the life of God, and joy in God, 
 and glory in tribulation ; when thou hast learnt in all 
 conditions to be contented ; and through trials and deep 
 •exercises is the way to learn this lesson." 
 
 Well had he learned how^ to give comfort and 
 support. In the same letter he w^rites of his own sore 
 sorrow until his eyes v^ere opened to see his Saviour, 
 and his heart to receive Him as his all in all. 
 
 *' Sure I am [he says] none can be so weary but He 
 takes care of them ; nor none so nigh fainting but He 
 puts His arm under their heads ; nor none can be so 
 beset with enemies on every side but He will arise and 
 scatter, because they are His own, and His life is the 
 price of their redemption and His blood of their ransom. 
 When they feel nothing stirring after Him, He yearns 
 after them ; so tender is the good Shepherd of His flock ! 
 / can tell, for I was as one that once went astray and 
 wandered upon the barren mountains." * 
 
 At another time he writes : — 
 
 " Your God sees and beholds, and ponders all your 
 trials. Leave them all with Him, and cast your care 
 wholly upon Him ; for by all your care not one cubit can 
 be added to your stature. ... He hath tempered your 
 •cups that you may say of the bitterest of them. My 
 God is the portion of this also.'' 
 
 * It is interesting to compare with this letter I. Penington's own 
 words of encouragement to others in later years. — Letters of Isaac 
 Penington. Nos. 3 and 73, &c. 
 
JOHN CROOK. 109 
 
 Two or three years after the remarkable visitation 
 already referred to, J. Crook found that, whilst 
 "dwelling more without and less within," winter had 
 taken the place of spring-time in his soul, and little 
 seemed left him but memories of that sunny season. 
 Many questionings about worship and the ordinances 
 arose in his mind, and he thought that he should be 
 guilty of ingratitude to the God who had done such 
 great things for him, if he did not seek for the purest 
 way of worshipping Him. At length he joined some 
 persons whose views resembled those of the Inde- 
 pendents, and who, like himself, hungered and thirsted 
 after righteousness. A blessing rested on their meet- 
 ings whilst, as John Crook says, they "were kept 
 watchful and tender, with minds inwardly retired, 
 and words few and savoury " ; in which frame of 
 spirit, he adds, they were preserved by communi- 
 cating their experiences one to another week by 
 week. But, as might be feared, after some years 
 this became a mere form ; questions about their 
 " Church state," &c., arose ; the sweet fellowship 
 was no longer felt, and at last they wholly gave up 
 meeting together, and too many completely cast off 
 the yoke of Christ. 
 
 John Crook could not go so far astray as some of 
 his acquaintances, and at times his unhappiness 
 caused him to resume religious reading and prayer ; 
 and much as he was tempted to adopt dangerous 
 principles, the strong sense of his former wonderful 
 deliverances and consolations, as well as the taste he 
 had had of joy unspeakable, made him sure that there 
 was (to quote his own words) " a far better state and 
 
no JOHN CROOK. 
 
 condition to be known and enjoyed in this world by 
 walking with God in holiness and purity, than by 
 all licentious and voluptuous living, or covetous 
 gathering of riches together, to get a name in the 
 earth." Neither could he doubt that obedience to 
 what his conscience told him was the will of God 
 would bring him more peace than any outward obser- 
 vances could do. 
 
 It was at this crisis and when John Crook was 
 about thirty-six years of age, that he was providen- 
 tially led to the spot where William Dewsbury was 
 preaching, though had he known that he was a 
 Friend he would have avoided hearing him. 
 
 ** His words [writes John Crook], like spears, pierced 
 and wounded my very heart ; yet so as they seemed unto 
 me as balm also. ... I remember the very words that 
 took the deepest impression upon me. . . . He implied 
 the miserable life of such who, notwithstanding their 
 religious duties or performances, had not peace nor 
 quietness in their spirits, . . . and wanted a spiritual 
 understanding of that which might then have been known 
 of God within ; which afterward I came to know and be- 
 hold. . . . Whereby I understood certainly that it is 
 not an opinion, bnt Christ jfesiis the power and arm of 
 God, who is the Saviour, — and that felt in the heart and 
 kept dwelHng there by faith ; which differs as much from 
 all notions in the head and brain as the living substance 
 differeth from the picture or image of it. . . . I came to 
 see what it was that had so long cried in me upon every 
 occasion of serious inward retiring in my own spirit ; so 
 that I could say of Christ, A greater than Solomon is 
 here." 
 
 With such wonderful power did the minister's words 
 sink into his inmost soul, that to him it almost 
 seemed as if one of the old Apostles had arisen from 
 
JOHN CROOK. Ill 
 
 the dead. He felt now that the victory could be 
 gained over the sinful desires which resisted what he 
 calls those '* little stirrings and movings after the 
 living God." In allusion to this time he speaks of 
 receiving the earnest of the inheritance and seal of the 
 covenant. The light which now shone around him 
 seemed to illumine the painful path he had trodden 
 in the past. And as he called to mind the '' swset 
 refreshings " granted him all along in the midst of 
 his sorrowful pilgrimage — his frequent neglect of the 
 tender wooings. of his Lord, and ingratitude for His 
 marvellous mercies — he was ready to cry out, "What ! 
 was God so near me in a place I was not aware of ?" 
 And with a heart melted and overcome by the great 
 love of his Father in heaven, realising that he was a 
 child, an heir — even a joint-heir with Christ — he felt 
 that nothing less than his all would be an offering 
 worthy of being laid upon the altar. Now were the 
 mysteries of the kingdom more and more revealed to 
 him by the Holy Spirit, and it must be from his own 
 blessed experience that, long after, he could write for 
 the encouragement of others : — 
 
 ** Lift up your heads, you that have come, through and 
 beyond all outward washings, unto the Lamb of God 
 that your robes may be washed white in His blood ; that 
 thereby yoti may overcome, and then sit down in the king- 
 dom with weary Abraham, thoroughly-tried Isaac, and 
 wrestling Jacob." 
 
 ** O, the many devices," he elsewhere writes, ''that the 
 enemy useth. . . . That now we had lain long enough 
 in the furnance, and nothing was left but pure gold ; but 
 he lied unto us. . . . We saw we must into the furnace 
 again, and there continue all the appointed time of the 
 Father, till indeed we were changed into the state of the 
 precious sons of Zion, truly comparable to fine gold." 
 
112 JOHN CROOK. 
 
 Nothing had ever seemed harder to him than the 
 having to " lay down all w^eapons and crowns " at the 
 feet of his Lord. But when this had been done he 
 found that the cravings of his soul were satisfied at 
 last ; and that it was refreshed by " a most sweet 
 shower " while formerly it had only been revived by 
 " summer drops ushering in a greater drought after- 
 wards." Possessing now the riches of the glory of 
 the inheritance of the saints, he says that a cry often 
 arose in him that he might be kept poor and needy, 
 in daily dependence upon His Saviour. 
 
 Soon he found that he was called to publish to his 
 fellow-men what he "had seen, felt and handled of 
 the word and work of God." When, at times, he 
 did not yield to this conviction, mourning was once 
 more his portion ; and some other who was present 
 would now and then speak the words which had been 
 in his heart. But when he simply followed the 
 guidance of the Holy Spirit a rich blessing followed, 
 as he went from place to place, and he does not 
 scruple to say that many were converted who lived 
 and died in the faith. 
 
 ** I found God [he adds] always to be larger in His 
 goodness than I could expect, and more abundant in 
 pouring out of His Holy Spirit than my faith could reach, 
 even to the breaking of my heart many a time before 
 Him in secret. ... I was constrained to obey the Lord, 
 taking no thought what I should say, but cried to Him 
 often in my spirit, ' Keep me poor and needy, believing 
 in thee, and then I shall speak from thee and for thee.' 
 . . . From the deep sense I had of God's majesty and 
 purity in my heart, I spoke of Him as I felt His requir- 
 ings thereunto, and His rewards were in my bosom as a 
 most sweet comforting cordial, that did lift up my spirit 
 
JOHN CROOK. 113 
 
 above all discomfortings from the enemies within and 
 without, although both ofttimes sorely beset me. ... I 
 might swell a volume with this subject, but this is spoken 
 to the glory of the Almighty God, that the all-sufficiency 
 of His Holy Spirit may be trusted in and relied upon, as 
 the only supplier of His ministers and people." 
 
 Strongly as his strong faith was tested he found 
 that the Comforter had truly come to abide with him 
 for ever. *' Never did the word of promise fail," — 
 though he w^as imprisoned ten times, was once tried 
 for his life, and also incurred the sentence of pre- 
 munire in 1662. John Crook had himself been a 
 Justice of the Peace, and was well aware of the 
 illegality of the sentence undergone by himself and 
 companions; and on being remanded to Newgate 
 he wrote an account of the trial, calling it *' The Cry 
 of the Innocent for Justice." This was printed, to- 
 gether with the Latin indictment, in which he pointed 
 out many errors. One would fancy that his judges 
 must have been taken aback by his bold words at the 
 bar, and his accurate acquaintance with some details 
 of law. When they told him that they had power to 
 tender the Oath of Allegiance to any man, he 
 answered, " Not to me upon this occasion, for I am 
 brought hither as an offender already. ... I am an 
 Englishman, as I have said to you, and challenge 
 the benefit of the laws of England, for by them is a 
 better inheritance derived to me than that which I 
 receive from my parents ; for by the former the latter 
 is preserved." It is not known for how long this im- 
 prisonment lasted. 
 
 In one of John Crook's epistles, written in Hunt- 
 
 I 
 
114 JOHN CROOK. 
 
 ingdon Gaol, " To those that are in Outward Bonds, 
 for the Testimony of a Good Conscience," he says : — 
 
 " Love nothing more than God, but let Him be thy 
 whole delight, and account it thy glory and thy praise 
 that thou hast anything to lose, or part withal, for His 
 sake. Account His chains as thy ornaments, and His 
 bonds as thy beauty, and His prison as thy palace. . . . 
 You may not disparage your descent, nor undervalue the 
 race from whence you sprang, for you are become com- 
 panions with all that are born from above, who walk 
 with God, and have fellowship with Christ through the 
 Spirit, with all the royal race amongst the living." 
 
 Such animating words, from one himself in cap- 
 tivity, must have carried comfort to many hearts. 
 
 It is related of John Crook that, in consequence 
 of preaching in a meeting, he was brought, late one 
 evening, before a Justice of the Peace, who, being a 
 kind-hearted man, was unwilling to send him at such 
 an unseasonable hour to the distant prison ; so, bid- 
 ding the informer to call in the morning, he offered 
 the offender a night's lodging, telling him, however, 
 that, as he had company at the time, he could only 
 spare him a room which one of his servants said was 
 haunted. But haunted chambers had no horrors for 
 John Crook, abiding, as he did, under the shadow of 
 the Almighty, and he gratefully accepted the invita- 
 tion. Not only was he courteously and hospitably 
 treated, but opportunity was also cordially given him 
 for religious conversation with the company, in which 
 they were much interested. The Justice kindly 
 showed him to his room, which was at the end of a 
 long gallery, and he slept soundly until about one 
 
JOHN CROOK. 115 
 
 o'clock. When he awoke, it was with even an un- 
 usually vivid sense of that love which passeth know- 
 ledge — of being compassed with God's favour as with 
 a shield. Just then a rattling noise was heard in 
 the gallery, and when, after a time, it ceased, a shrill 
 voice three times said, " You are damned." Quite 
 undismayed, John Crook answered, " Thou art a liar, 
 for I feel this moment the sweet peace of my God 
 flow through my heart." All was again quiet, and 
 he soon fell asleep, not awaking until his usual hour 
 for rising. Finding that his host had not yet come 
 down stairs he took a walk in the garden, where he 
 was soon joined by a manservant who, falling on his 
 knees before him, said that it was he who had tried 
 to alarm him in the night, and that his heart had 
 been pierced by John Crook's words. He asked for 
 his forgiveness and his prayers, going on to say that 
 for some years past some of his fellow-servants and 
 himself had been in the habit of secretly robbing their 
 master, and, in order to facilitate their plans of con- 
 cealment, had pretended that one part of the house 
 was haunted. At John Crook's request he confessed 
 his crime to the Justice, who pardoned him, and also 
 gave his guest a dismission from the informer. The 
 impression made that night on the servant's heart 
 was a lasting one, and we learn that he afterwards 
 became " an honest Friend and a minister." 
 
 Four years after John Crook had become a Friend, 
 a general Yearly Meeting was held at his house in 
 Bedfordshire. It continued for three days, and was 
 attended by George Fox and so many others from 
 most parts of England that the inns in the neigh- 
 
3l6 JOHN CROOK. 
 
 bouring towns were crowded. John Crook has been 
 described as an Apollos, eloquent and mighty in the 
 Scriptures, and by his ministry not a few were turned 
 from darkness to Hght ; but no record of this is left 
 by himself, nor does he give many particulars of the 
 persecutions which he suffered. He speaks of how 
 God has made prisons to be schools for prophets and 
 nurseries for divines. " He that would build high,"" 
 he remarks, " must lay the foundation deep. There 
 is flesh as well as spirit in us all, as the Apostle saith 
 of himself (Gal. v. 17). Therefore there is great need 
 of a strict watch to be kept ' with all keeping,' as 
 the margin hath it, lest we forget there is going out 
 of the truth by many unsuspected ways as well as. 
 goings in by Christ, the door." Again, in his eighty- 
 second year he writes : — 
 
 '' Perfecting holiness in the fear of the Lord is so far 
 from lessening or undervaluing the merits or conquests 
 of Christ, that it manifests Him to be able to save to the 
 uttermost all that come to God by Him. Not only from 
 the guilt, but from the filth of sin also, ... to make 
 them whole every whit as He did those He cured out- 
 wardly." 
 
 Writing of faith, he says : — 
 
 '' By this living faith Abel saw beyond the sacrifice 
 unto Christ, the first-born of God, beyond the firstling of 
 the flock which he offered ; and therefore God had respect 
 unto Abel and his offering. But God rejected Cain and 
 his offering, though he had faith to believe it to be his 
 duty, yet sticking to the form, and not flying on the wing 
 of faith unto Christ, the One Offering, he missed the 
 mark. . . We believe that faith to be only true and 
 saving that flies over self-righteousness as well as filthi- 
 ness into the fountain of life in Christ, which faith hath 
 
JOHN CROOK. 117 
 
 nothing of man in it, but is as the breath of life by which 
 the soul lives : not a bare assent to the truth of a pro- 
 position in the natural understanding, but the soul's 
 cleaving unto God out of a naturalness between Christ 
 and the soul, . . . not looking at its doing to commend 
 ity but God's love and bounty in Christy the Lights to 
 receive it; and yet holiness is its delight, and it can no 
 more live out of it than the fish upon the dry land. This 
 faith keeps the mind pure, the heart clean, through the 
 sprinkling of the heart from an evil conscience by the 
 blood of Jesus." 
 
 Not long before his death he writes: — 
 
 " Let not your outward concerns prevent your religious 
 meetings and services on the week-days, lest the earthly 
 spirit get up again ; but meet in the faith that you shall 
 meet with God, whether you hear words spoken out- 
 wardly or not." 
 
 On another occasion his words are : — 
 
 ** Watch, my dear friends, against the enemy of your 
 souls that you may be preserved out of all his snares. 
 ... So will you delight to meet together, and the joy of 
 the Lord will be your strength, and you thereby en- 
 couraged to wait upon Him. And His sweet and precious 
 presence will be manifest among you, unto the building 
 up and strengthening one another in the faith of the 
 Gospel, unto the vanquishing of your fears and scattering 
 of all your enemies." 
 
 During the latter part of his life, John Crook 
 suffered from intense bodily pain, which he bore with 
 he utmost patience, though he admitted that, did he 
 not feel the upholding arm of his Lord, he could not 
 live under it. In a letter of advice to his grand- 
 children, he bids them embrace afflictions as mes- 
 sengers of peace. He counsels them to " wait upon 
 God," adding — " I have had more comfort and con- 
 firmation in the truth in my inward retiring in silence, 
 
Il8 JOHN CROOK. 
 
 than from all words I have heard from others, though 
 I have often been refreshed by them also." Although 
 at so advanced an age his spiritual strength seemed 
 unabated; yet he rejoiced at the thought that he 
 would soon be free from his suffering state. " Many 
 of the ancients," he would say, ** are gone to their 
 long home ; they step away before me, and I, that 
 would go, cannot. Well, it will be my turn soon also ! " 
 About three weeks before his death he very emphati- 
 cally said, " Truth must prosper. Truth shall prosper ; 
 but a trying time must first come, and afterwards 
 the glory of the Lord shall more and more appear." 
 He died in 1699 ^t Hertford, which had been his 
 home for many years. He leaves no details of his 
 domestic life, but we learn from Sewel that some of 
 his children were a cause of sorrow. He might well 
 say that he had been afflicted from his youth up — yet 
 he also knew what it was to glory in tribulation. 
 Growing from one degree of grace to another, it was 
 granted to him to experience, by faith, that the child 
 of God is translated out of darkness into the kingdom 
 of God's dear Son ; and the eyes of his understanding 
 were enlightened to know the riches of the glory of 
 this inheritance. Realising as he did, the exceeding 
 greatness of God's power to those who believe, neither 
 persecution nor pain, neither grief nor care, could 
 debar him from the privileges of his citizenship in 
 the New Jerusalem. For — to borrow the words of 
 George Fox — "All that dwell within the grace, and 
 truth, and faith, and Spirit, which are the walls of 
 the city, dwell within that city;" even the Zion of 
 the Holy One of Israel, j 
 
119 
 
 STEPHEN CRISP AND HIS SERMONS. 
 
 It was in the spring of 1655, when Stephen Crisp 
 was about twenty-seven years of age, that the town 
 of Colchester where, he lived was visited by James 
 Parnel* (a minister of the newly-formed Society of 
 Friends), whose labours had already been greatly 
 blessed although he had not attained his twentieth 
 year. Night and day had Stephen Crisp been wish- 
 ing that the Gospel might be preached in his native 
 place by one of the Quakers, for though he knew that 
 they were a hated and persecuted people, he was 
 well aware that this had often been the lot of the 
 faithful followers of Christ. He had, however, heard 
 that one of their tenets was, that sin might be over- 
 come in this life, which at first seemed to him to be 
 a great mistake ; for — although from childhood he 
 
 • J. Parnel's services at Colchester, where many thousands came 
 to hear him, are thus described by S. Crisp : — " He spent that week 
 in preaching, praying, exhorting, turning the minds of all sorts of 
 professors to the light of Jesus, which did search their hearts and 
 show their thoughts, that they might believe therein. . . . Many did 
 believe, and others were hardened. ... To one that struck him 
 with a great staff, saying, ' There, take that for Jesus Christ's sake,* 
 he returned this answer, ' Friend, I do receive it for Jesus Christ's 
 sake.' " He died about a year later, the victim of most cruel treat- 
 ment coupled with close confinement, in Colchester Castle. •' Here 
 I die innocently," he said ; " I have seen great things. Do not hold 
 me; but let me go." During his captivity he writes : — " Be willing 
 that self shall suffer for the truth, and not the truth for self, ... all 
 you that would follow the Lamb to the land of rest, and through 
 many trials you will wax strong and bold and confident in your God ; 
 Jot God is not known what a God He is until the time of trial." 
 
120 STEPHEN CRISP AND HIS SERMONS. 
 
 had taken a deep interest in religion, and as he grew 
 older had made acquaintance with several sects, and 
 had tried many ordinances and many means in the 
 hope of finding a power which would give him this 
 victory — "his arm," he says, " was never so long as 
 to reach thereunto." 
 
 Conscious of his own good abilities, his knowledge 
 of the sacred Scriptures, and of numerous old philo- 
 sophical works, he thought to find an easy task in 
 opposing the argument of the young stranger. He 
 sought an opportunity for conversing with him, and 
 on the same day attended a meeting in which he 
 heard him preach the Gospel in the name and autho- 
 rity of the Lord. This he at once felt that no wisdom 
 of his own could withstand. His reason also was 
 convinced, and with all its strength he was soon 
 to uphold and valiantly defend the views he had 
 heretofore resisted. Hard indeed would it be for 
 him thus to humble himself, but '' a strong hand 
 gave the stroke." '' I was," he writes, " hewn down 
 like a tall cedar. . . . The eye that wowld see every- 
 thing was now so blind that I could see nothing 
 certainly but my present undone and miserable 
 estate." In touching words he tries in his journal 
 to" give some idea of the exceeding sorrow of those 
 days, in which all trust in his own righteousness 
 was swept away. In a sermon preached in after- 
 years, he speaks of how it is God's will that *' man 
 shall be beholden to Christ for all. . . . One would 
 think it should be no great matter," he adds, ''for 
 men to lay aside their own works and duties and 
 submit to Christ ; but I tell you it is very hard, and 
 
STEPHEN CRISP AND HIS SERMONS. 121 
 
 I found it hard myself." But He who has made the 
 depths of the sea a way for the ransomed to pass 
 over, did not suffer His servant to sink into utter 
 despair. Dawn followed the midnight darkness, and 
 he felt a hope that this was the forerunner of that 
 light in which the hlood of Jesus Christ is known 
 to cleanse from all sin. Weary of warfare, watching 
 and waiting, he yearned to know how long this dis- 
 cipline must he borne ; yet he had to learn that even 
 this seemingly lawful desire must, like all other self- 
 will, be laid down. 
 
 ** Upon a time [he writes] being weary of my own 
 thoughts in the meeting of God's people, I thought none 
 was like me, and that it was but in vain to sit there with 
 such a wandering mind as mine was, while, though I 
 laboured to stay it, I yet could not as I would. At length 
 I thought to go forth, and as I was going the Lord thun- 
 dered through me, saying, * That which is weary must 
 die,' so I turned to my seat, and waited in the belief of 
 God for the death of that part which was weary of the 
 work of God. . . . And the cross was laid upon me, and 
 I bore it ; and as I became willing to take it up I found 
 it to be to me that thing which I had sought from my 
 childhood, even the power of God. . . . Oh ! the secret 
 joy that was in me in the midst of all my conflicts and 
 combats; . . . manifold and daily were God's deliver- 
 ances made known to me beyond all recount or remem- 
 brance of man. . . . And as the word of wisdom began 
 to spring in me, and the knowledge of God grew, so I 
 became a counsellor of them that were tempted in like 
 manner as I had been, yet was kept so low that I waited 
 to receive counsel daily from God, and from those that 
 were over me in the Lord. . . , And a cry was in me to 
 keep on my spiritual armour, for all enemies were not 
 yet put under my feet." 
 
 About four years after James Parnel's memorable 
 
122 STEPHEN CRISP AND HIS SERMONS. 
 
 visit to Colchester, Stephen Crisp felt the love of God 
 so shed abroad in his heart as to reach to the w^hole 
 human family, with earnest desires to share with 
 them the unsearchable riches of Christ. He longed 
 to be made willing to go whithersoever the Lord 
 should send him, and he thought that he was so ; 
 but when the call came to leave wife and children,, 
 father and mother, in order to visit the churches in 
 Scotland, he found to his cost that " all enemies 
 were not slain indeed." Gladly would he have ex- 
 cused himself on the easily-found plea of unfitness, 
 or the care of his family and his service in Colchester 
 Meeting. He spoke of the subject to some faithful 
 ministers and elders, half hoping that they would 
 dissuade him from the performance of this solemn 
 and arduous work ; but, on the contrary, they urged 
 him to be faithful in the carrying out of what seemed 
 to him to be his Master's will. This he made up 
 his mind to do, and, notwithstanding the sore trial 
 of his wife's opposition, he was kept in much patience 
 and quietness. As winter drew near he would fain 
 have put off his mission until the summer, but was 
 taught that the Lord's time must be his time ; he 
 wished to go by sea, but had also to learn that the 
 Lord's way must be his way, and the event proved 
 that there were fields for him to work in before 
 reaching Scotland. 
 
 His faithful obedience was rewarded, sooner it 
 may be than he had looked for ; and, as he was more 
 conscious of his Lord's presence than usual, his 
 journey became "joyful," though he was "weak, 
 poor, and low." He writes : " In every place my 
 
STEPHEN CRISP AND HIS SERMONS. I23 
 
 testimony was owned, and divers were convinced of 
 the everlasting Truth : then I marvelled and said, 
 ' Lord, the glory alone belongs to Thee ; for Thou 
 hast wrought wonders for Thy name's sake.' " With 
 a heart constantly warmed by the constraining love 
 of Christ, he cheerfully pursued his winter pilgrimage 
 on foot, undaunted by many dangers and difficulties 
 caused by the movements of the English and Scot- 
 tish armies. 
 
 He had indulged the hope that, this mission 
 accomplished, he should be able to come back to his 
 family and quietly follow his calling; but the Lord 
 had need of him to "be His witness unto all men 
 of what he had seen and heard." He was now about 
 thirty-two years of age, and the remaining half of 
 his life was chiefly spent in active and devoted labour 
 for his Saviour ; and probably, George Fox alone 
 excepted, no one person was so prominent an instru- 
 ment in caring for the newly-formed churches as 
 Stephen Crisp. A few days' rest at home and a 
 short visit to the Friends in London were followed 
 by another northern journey, in describing which he 
 alludes to many being turned from darkness to light, 
 and speaks of peace and joy as his portion, yet also 
 of trials within and without ; the latter including his 
 imprisonment when two hundred miles aWay from 
 home. But the Lord, to whom he looked for aid, 
 suffered not his faith to fail : yet, as he writes of 
 finding the work every day more and more weighty, 
 can we wonder at his owning that the hope of being 
 freed from bearing these burdens lived long in him ; 
 but, simply and faithfully doing his Master's bid- 
 
124 STEPHEN CRISP AND HIS SERMONS. 
 
 ding, he learnt to increasingly love the labour — until 
 ^' nothing in the world seemed so desirable to him as 
 the spreading and publishing of His truth through 
 the earth;" and a longing filled his heart to be " as 
 serviceable as possible in his generation, and to 
 keep himself clear of the blood of all men." 
 
 Fearless and forcible were his words of warning ; 
 several of the remarkable sermons preached by him 
 in London were taken down in shorthand by one of 
 his hearers, who was not a Friend, in one of which 
 we read the following passage : — 
 
 " How strangely doth the man talk, will some say, 
 concerning the Christian religion ! The Christian reh- 
 gion is all England over ; go to any meeting in London 
 and they will tell you they are Christians. I would to 
 God they were ; that is the worst I wish for them all ! 
 . . . There are many in this city urging this very com- 
 mand of loving God with all their hearts, and their neigh- 
 bours as themselves, as fervently as I can do, or anybody 
 else ; and yet they will tell you in the next breath that 
 no man in London or in the world can do this." At 
 another time he says, " Is not man God's creature, and 
 cannot He new-make him and cast sin out of him ? If 
 you say sin is rooted deeply in man, I say so too ; yet 
 not so deeply rooted but Christ Jesus is entered so deeply 
 into the root of the nature of man that He hath received 
 power to destroy the devil and his works, and to recover 
 and redeem man into his primitive nature of righteous- 
 ness and holiness ; or else that is false to say that He is 
 able to save to the uttermost all that come unto God by 
 Him. We must throw away the Bible if we say that it is 
 impossible for God to deliver man out of sin." And 
 again, " When you hear truth preached, there is an 
 assent and agreement with it in your minds ; but when a 
 command comes to be obeyed, and a cross to be taken 
 up, and self-denial to be shown, or some interest of trade 
 lies in the way, let truth go where it will, you must follow 
 your interest." 
 
STEPHEN CRISP AND HIS SERMONS. I25 
 
 In a sermon preached a few weeks before his death 
 the following remarks occur : — 
 
 " What if I live in the truth, that will not serve thee ; 
 and if I be a holy man, that will not sanctify thee ; thou 
 must hearken to truth's speaking in thyself ; thou mayst 
 hear it speaking it in thy own heart before thou be an 
 hour older. ... If thou join with the truth and with that 
 which is holy, thou shalt have strength and ability to 
 withstand temptation, and overcome it ; and (I may speak 
 with reverence) Christ hath hound Himself to those that 
 trust in Him.'' 
 
 In 1663 Stephen Crisp crossed the sea on the first 
 of the thirteen or fourteen visits made by him to the 
 Low Countries, where a large number of persons had 
 adopted the views of Friends ; a mission which '' the 
 unknown land and unknown speech " did not hinder 
 him from accomplishing in cheerfulness and peace, 
 and with very satisfactory results. When, four years 
 later, he again felt himself called to go there, he found 
 ** a dear companion " in Josiah Coale, who died in the 
 following year at the age of thirty-five — his constitu- 
 tion prematurely worn down by the persecutions and 
 hardships which he had encountered in the service 
 of his Lord, though long borne up by a manly, daunt- 
 less spirit. Many were the seals set to Josiah Coale's 
 ministry, which was of a very striking character ; 
 and most ardent were the longings implanted in his 
 soul for the prosperity of Zion. Just before his 
 death, when George Fox and other of his friends 
 were around him, he said, "Be faithful to God and 
 have a single eye to His glory, and seek nothing for 
 self, . . . then will ye have the reward of life. For 
 my part, I have walked in faithfulness with the Lord. 
 
126 STEPHEN CRISP AND HIS SERMONS. 
 
 And I have peace with Him. . . . His majesty is 
 with me, and His crown of life is upon me. So, 
 mind, my love to all friends." Soon afterwards he 
 said to Stephen Crisp, " Dear heart, keep low in 
 the holy seed of God, and that will be thy crown for 
 ever." 
 
 It was in this year (1688) that Stephen Crisp 
 was imprisoned in Ipswich Gaol, where one of his 
 valuable pamphlets — "The Plain Pathway Opened" 
 — was written. Sewel speaks of visiting him during 
 his captivity, which he bore with great cheerfulness 
 and perfect contentment. His ministry had been 
 the means of considerably adding to the number of 
 Friends in Ipswich, to whom he still preached the 
 Gospel when they came to see him. A heaven-taught 
 submission to all God's will concerning him had 
 completely taken away the sting from sorrow : bear- 
 ing the image and superscription of Christ, fervent 
 were his desires to " render unto God the things 
 which are God's." Thus, when he writes in his 
 journal of the presence and power of the Lord lead- 
 ing him from country to country, he adds, " I was 
 obedient thereunto, not of constraint now, but of a 
 willing mind ; counting His service a freedom, feel- 
 ing myself freed from the cares of this life, having 
 now learnt to cast all m}^ care upon Him." 
 
 In the spring of 1669 he went, at the bidding of his 
 Lord, from the Netherlands into Germany, appa- 
 rently at the peril of life itself while passing through 
 lands shrouded with the darkness of superstition. 
 Yet he was safely led on to Griesham, near Worms, 
 where he found a blessed service in speaking a word 
 
STEPHEN CRISP AND HIS SERMONS. 127 
 
 in season to many who were wxary with long years 
 of trial for conscience' sake : amongst these sufferers, 
 others, whilst hearing him, were constrained to cast 
 in their lot. One cause of trouble was the imposition 
 by the Palsgrave of an annual fine on Friends for 
 their meetings, which they did not feel it right to 
 pay, and three times the amount was taken by the 
 executioners ; an exaction borne with " great joy and 
 gladness," for the sake of Him who had suffered for 
 them, and who now called them to display His 
 banner because of the truth. Stephen Crisp had an 
 interview with the prince, in consequence of which 
 the persecution was checked. 
 
 The following extracts from his sermons show the 
 value set by Stephen Crisp on spiritual worship and 
 Christ's own teaching : — 
 
 " Travail on in the faith committed to you and you 
 will be more than conquerors ; . . . your communion 
 will not be in words and doctrine and principles of faith ; 
 but your communion will be with God the Father and 
 His Son Jesus Christ. And so in all your meetings 
 together the joy of the Lord will be your strength, and 
 the joy of His great salvation your covering; and He 
 will manifest His gracious presence with you." . . . 
 " When a man or woman comes to this pass, that they 
 have nothing to rely upon but the Lord, then they will 
 meet together to wait upon the Lord. And this was the 
 first ground or motive of our setting up meetings ; and 
 I would to God that this was the use which all that come 
 to them would make of them. . . . People cry out of the 
 bondage of corruption and of their subjection to sin and 
 Satan. I would they were in earnest ! . . . Now, if 
 there was but a willingness in every one of us freely to 
 give up ourselves to that Power that created us, to obey 
 His will, I am sure there is never a man or woman 
 among us shall long be without a knowledge of it. . . . 
 
128 STEPHEN CRISP AND HIS SERMONS. 
 
 But methinks the sound and noise of flesh and blood 
 grows loud here : I would be subject to God, but I would 
 not have Him cross my interest and deprive me of that 
 I love and thirst after. ... If you will become spiritual, 
 and partake of spiritual blessings and benefits, I would 
 advise you to turn from all kinds of reasonings that come 
 from the pit of darkness. ... As many as are led by 
 the Spirit of God they are the children of God. . . . As 
 soon as a man comes to adhere and join to the power of 
 God revealed in his soul, he sees the coming of the king- 
 dom of God ; he sees it at a distance: he saith within 
 himself, ' I will follow my Captain — I will become sub- 
 ject to the kingdom of Christ.' " 
 
 Again, in relating the manner in which he and his 
 friends had grown in grace, he says : — 
 
 ''Jesus was our great minister ; we waited upon Him 
 and trusted in Him, and He taught us Himself. He hath 
 ministered to us at our silent and quiet waiting upon 
 Him those things that were convenient for us : He hath 
 not only given strong meat unto men, but hath ministered 
 of the sincere milk of His word unto babes that lived in 
 sincerity and self-denial, loving God above all things. 
 And He taught and conducted us in our way — this way 
 of simplicity — until our understandings came to be 
 opened ; until our souls came to be prepared to receive 
 the mysteries of His kingdom." 
 
 In a sermon preached a few days before his death 
 he says : — 
 
 ** When a man or woman come to a meeting to worship 
 God and hear the word spoken outwardly, they must pray 
 for something that may be for their good : Lord, give me 
 something that may support my soul, and something 
 that may withstand temptation. People should have 
 their minds thus exercised ; and they should think upon 
 the name of the Lord according to their particular 
 necessity ; they should pour out their supplication to 
 the Lord : this is such worship as God looks for, and 
 
STEPHEN CRISP AND HIS SERMONS. I29 
 
 sucji as He likes and is pleased with. He will deliver 
 those that thus pray to Him out of temptations, so that 
 they shall not prevail over them. . . . There are none of 
 you, if you would not be lazy and idle, but you might be 
 delivered every day and have experience in your own 
 souls that, when the devil comes and tempts, the Lord is 
 at hand to deliver you by His grace and power." 
 
 Stephen Crisp being now able to preach in the 
 Dutch language, the meetings which he had in Hol- 
 land were very large. " Some present," he says, 
 *' were overcome by the power of Truth, and the 
 overflowings of my cup made many glad." A journey 
 to the southern part of Germany, &c., where a great 
 weight rested on his spirit on account of the wicked- 
 ness which abounded, was followed by a visit to the 
 Friends at Frederickstadt, whom he found assembled 
 at their week-day meeting, and with whom he was 
 refreshed in the " fellowship of the blessed Gospel." 
 Meetings especially for the public were also held here, 
 and were very striking ones, leaving a marked effect 
 on the city, which was afterwards visited by William 
 Penn and Thomas Green. Before leaving, Stephen 
 Crisp, and his companion Peter Hendricks, met with 
 their friends early in the morning in order to commit 
 one another to the Lord's care ; while the final part- 
 ing, " in that love which never changeth," took place 
 at the river Jider, without the city. 
 
 In 1673 some six months were spent by Stephen 
 Crisp in London and its suburbs, where the Lord, he 
 says, was with him daily, to the rejoicing of thou- 
 sands. ' " By His mighty power were many strong 
 oaks bowed, and many subtle foxes prevented of their 
 prey, and many wandering sheep brought home who 
 
 K 
 
130 STEPHEN CRISP AND HIS SERMONS. 
 
 had for a long time longed to find the fold of rest ; 
 and whose souls will ever live with my soul, in His 
 covenant, to praise Him world without end." 
 
 During his next mission across the seas he was led 
 to visit " that hard-hearted city of Emblen," where a 
 physician named Hasbert kindly welcomed him, and 
 even offered his house for thp holding of meetings, 
 which were well attended. After a while some *' were 
 drawn in love to God " to assemble there regularly 
 for spiritual worship. When this became known in 
 the city sore persecution followed ; a few were 
 banished sixteen or twenty times, spoiled of their 
 goods, stripped of their clothing, and then driven 
 through the streets to the ships in which they were 
 to sail : ''all which and much more,'* Stephen Crisp 
 remarks, " by the mighty power of the Lord, did 
 these innocent, harmless lambs, bear with great 
 patience and quietness, and were not dismayed at all 
 these cruelties." A year or two later, on revisiting 
 Emblen, he found that a fine of ^25 was to be im- 
 posed on any one who should harbour a Friend in 
 his house, whereupon he wrote a book of" sharp and 
 sound judgment " to the rulers and priests, who, how- 
 ever, did him no harm ; for, as he says, a power came 
 over them. Nor was the labour lost, for we find that 
 the Friends soon had more freedom than formerly. 
 At other times also he successfully pleaded on behalf 
 of his persecuted brethren : yet throughout his con- 
 stantly-renewed Continental labours no hand was 
 laid on him, although, when in- the Spanish Nether- 
 lands, he could but boldly bear his testimony against 
 the grevious idolatry which weighed down his soul. 
 
STEPHEN CRISP AND HIS SERMONS. 131 
 
 During an exceptional winter chiefly spent at his 
 home at Colchester, he visited the neighbouring meet- 
 ings — a service accomplished with " much joy of 
 spirit," in spite of severe bodily suffering : — 
 
 "I found," he remarks, "that though through long 
 experience my senses were exercised in the service 
 of God, yet I had nothing to trust to how and after what 
 manner to minister to the Church of Christ, but the same 
 that led me in the beginning — even the immediate opera- 
 tion of the power that brings forth, in the will of God, all 
 things suitable to their season, that the glory might be to 
 the power, and the praises to Him that gives it, for ever 
 find for ever more.'' 
 
 Again, he speaks of returning to his 
 
 *' place in the will of God, remaining as a servant waiting 
 to he ordered, and as a child waiting to be fed." 
 
 To the faithful disciples who thus wait will not 
 service of some sort be surely sent by the Lord of the 
 harvest ? 
 
 Two or three years later Stephen Crisp's life was 
 threatened by a severe fever. God's presence was 
 with him, and he could confidingly commit himself 
 into His hands : and when he found that his days 
 were to be prolonged he was well content that it 
 should be so, as the one aim of his soul was still to 
 spend them '' in the service of God and His dear 
 people." Apparently no meeting of Friends in the 
 nation was left unvisited by him. 
 
 In 1682, a sense having been given him of the 
 suffering soon to befall the Friends who lived in 
 Norwich, we find that at harvest-time it came into 
 his heart, " in the dear love of God," to go again to 
 that city. Whilst worshipping with his brethren 
 
132 STEPHEN CRISP AND HIS SERMONS. 
 
 there on the day of his arrival, the assembly was 
 violently broken up by a justice and constables, ac- 
 companied by a rabble who seemed ready to devour 
 their prey. Stephen Crisp and about a dozen other 
 Friends were brought before the mayor and aldermen- 
 Strong was their desire to get him into their hands, 
 but the Lord who had hitherto helped him taught 
 him how to avoid the snares skilfully set for him. 
 Feeling that his mission to the city was still unful- 
 filled, it would seem that the possibility of any other 
 course than that of performing it did not enter his 
 mind. Such simple faith and obedience could not be 
 exercised in vain : in the two large meetings which 
 were held, the power of the Almighty wonderfully 
 prevailed over all. It must have been consoling to- 
 him at this time to foresee that, though the fiery 
 trial of persecution was about to test the faith of the 
 Friends here, they would be ready for the conflict, 
 being clad in the impenetrable armour of God. 
 
 In thefollowing year his beloved wife died. Although 
 for thirty-five years her love and sympathy and trust 
 in Christ had been invaluable to him, grace was 
 given in his time of need to murmur not, but rather 
 to praise the holy name of Him who had made her 
 what she was. 
 
 His second marriage took place in 1685, and was 
 a most congenial union, though of short duration, 
 for he writes : "It proved the pleasure of the Lord 
 to try me, whether I could part with, as well as 
 receive, this great mercy. . . . She was a woman 
 beyond many, excelling in the virtues of the Holy 
 Spirit with which she was baptised." Heavy as was 
 
STEPHEN CRISP AND HIS SERMONS. I33 
 
 the stroke it was softened by the share which was 
 granted him of the joy into which she had entered. 
 
 In 1689, in spite of many bodily infirmities, Stephen 
 Crisp, in company with other Friends, successfully 
 appealed to Parliament for the suspension of those 
 laws which had caused sore suffering for conscience* 
 sake. After describing the decay of his physical 
 power he says : " Yet the word of the Lord lived in 
 my heart to the refreshing of my soul, and the souls 
 of many tender babes that lived and grew up by the 
 milk of it." This may be imagined by those who 
 read the remarkable sermons delivered by him during 
 the last few years of his life. 
 
 *' There are," he says, "many that have had some 
 taste of great joy, and apprehensions of heavenly things 
 to which they have not attained, but they know what they 
 are waiting upon God for ;— not that they may have a 
 little joy which passeth through them, but come to have 
 that joy and tranquillity which will accompany them in 
 all their doings and their whole conversation. . . . Let 
 such go on and follow that guide by whom they have 
 been directed, and they shall at last come — through the 
 Divine Spirit of Grace which they followed, and so closely 
 cleaved to — to have an entrance administered to them 
 abundantly into the salvation of God." 
 
 And again : — 
 
 " If it be truth which you own, then exercise faith upon 
 it — and whatsoever sin or temptation assaults you, say 
 I shall overcome in the name of the Lord Jehovah ; I 
 shall bring thee under, be what lust, passion, or corrup- 
 tion soever thou wilt ; in the name of the Lord I shall 
 overcome thee." 
 
 In the spring of 1692 it would seem that he felt 
 the time of his departure was at hand. When 
 taking what proved to be his last farewell of Col- 
 
134 STEPHEN CRISP AND HIS SERMONS. 
 
 Chester (before leaving for London), in several meet- 
 ings his ministry, both to Friends and others, was of 
 an especially powerful and exceedingly striking 
 character ; he spoke of his wish to be clear of the 
 blood of all men, and of his belief that he was so. In 
 private families, also, the Lord did indeed make 
 manifest the savour of His knowledge by this good 
 and faithful servant, whose mouth He had made 
 *' as a well of life " to many a thirsty soul. 
 
 A few days before his death he preached at con- 
 siderable length at Devonshire House. Becoming 
 increasingly ill, he was carried in a litter to Wands- 
 worth (where in early life he had acted as usher in 
 the celebrated college of Richard Scoryer). To 
 George Whitehead he said : " I have a full assurance 
 of my peace with God in Christ Jesus.* . . . Dear 
 George, I can live and die with thee." When George 
 Whitehead was parting from him, he asked : *' Dear 
 Stephen, wouldst thou anything to friends?" But 
 his life's labour was ended now, and he only answered, 
 " Remember my dear love in Christ Jesus to all 
 friends." He died at Wandsworth, 1692, aged 64 
 years, and was buried at the Friends' burial-ground, 
 Bunhill Fields. 
 
 Perhaps a fitting conclusion to this short sketch 
 of Stephen Crisp and his Sermons will be found in 
 
 * " For my part," was Stephen Crisp's strong language in one of 
 his sermons,— " for my part, my tongue shall as soon drop out of 
 my mouth as oppose the doctrine of being justified by faith in Christ ; 
 but let me tell you this may be misapplied ... If a man hope to be 
 saved by Christ, he must be ruled by Him. It is contrary to all 
 manner of reason that the Devil should rule a man and Christ be his 
 Saviour." 
 
STEPHEN CRISP AND HIS SERMONS. I35 
 
 his own words in Gracechurch Street Meeting; — " I 
 have considered many a time, that there are many 
 brave men and women in this age that might have 
 been eminent witnesses of God in this world, and 
 borne their testimony to His truth, but their faith 
 hath been weak and ineffectual : they have discovered 
 their unbelieving hearts, and have joined with the 
 common herd of the world, because they thought 
 such great things could never be done ; that the 
 kingdom of Satan could never be pulled down 
 and destroyed, and the kingdom of Christ set up 
 within us. But I would hope better things of you, 
 things that accompany salvation ; and that He that 
 hath begun a good work in you will carry it on to 
 perfection." 
 
136 
 
 JOHN BANKS. 
 
 " The soul that has made the discovery that it has nothing in itself 
 to hang upon, must hang upon Christ." — Dean Goulburn, 
 
 On a winter's day in 1711 William Penn, whilst 
 walking, cane in hand, up and down his room, 
 dictated the preface to the autobiography of John 
 Banks, whom he had known for more than forty-four 
 years, and had, in the earlier days of his own religious 
 experience, found to be " an ordinance of strength to 
 his soul." This proved to be the last of Penn's lite- 
 rary productions. *' Friendly reader," he begins, 
 *' the labours of the servants of God ought always to 
 be precious in the eyes of His people ; and for that 
 reason the very fragments of their services are not 
 to be lost, but gathered up for edification. I hope 
 it will please God to make them effectual to such as 
 seriously peruse them, since we have always found 
 the Lord ready to second the services of His worthies 
 upon the spirits of their readers." 
 
 John Banks was an only child, and was born in 
 Cumberland, in 1637. When only fourteen, after 
 having made a good use of seven years' schooling, 
 he was employed as a schoolmaster. A year later, 
 in order to please his father and some others, he 
 held a weekly service in a chapel-of-ease near Pard- 
 shaw, where he read the Bible and homily, sang 
 psalms, and engaged in prayer. One of his hearers, 
 
JOHN BANKS. I37 
 
 a highly educated but very intemperate man, told him 
 that he read well, and added that he ought to use a 
 form of prayer, offering to send him one in a letter. 
 No sooner had John Banks made use of this form, 
 than his mind was powerfully impressed with the 
 Apostle Paul's description of the Gospel which he 
 had to preach : " I neither received it of man, neither 
 was I taught it but by the revelation of Jesus 
 Christ." He knew that he had had this form from 
 man, and, moreover, from *' one of the worst of 
 many." The end of the year was approaching when 
 payment for his services would be due to him, but 
 he felt that he must refuse it, and that he could not 
 
 read in the chapel again. 
 
 • 
 
 " The dread of the Lord fell upon me," he writes, 
 **with which I was so struck to my very heart that I 
 said to myself, I shall never pray on this wise. And it 
 opened in me, 'Go to the meeting of people in scorn 
 called Quakers/ It pleased the Lord to reach my heart 
 by His great power and pure living Spirit, in the blessed 
 appearance and revelation thereof, in and through Jesus 
 Christ ; whereby I received the knowledge of God, and 
 the way of His blessed Truth, by myself alone in the 
 field before I ever heard any one called a Quaker preach. 
 But the first day I went to one of their meetings the 
 Lord's power so seized upon me that I was made to cry out 
 in the bitterness of my soul, in a true sight and sense of 
 my sins that appeared exceeding sinful ; and at evening, as 
 I >\'as going to the meeting, I was smitten to the ground 
 with the weight of God's judgments for sin and iniquity, 
 and I was taken up by two Friends. Oh ! the godly sor- 
 row that did take hold of me that night in the meeting." 
 
 There was very little ministry, but a Friend, who 
 deeply sympathised with John Banks' distress, was, 
 as he said, " made willing" to read a paper suitable 
 
I3S JOHN BANKS. 
 
 to his condition, and which was the means of giving 
 him a Httle comfort. He now remembered that in 
 the midst of his wildness and dissipation he had felt 
 a restraining influence in his heart, but had given no 
 heed to it. " I did not," he continues, ''only come 
 to be convinced, by the living appearance of the Lord 
 Jesus, of the evil of sin ; but by taking true heed 
 .thereunto, I came, by one little after another, to be 
 sensible of the work thereof in my soul in order to 
 tame and subject the wild nature in me, and to 
 cleanse me inwardly from sin that I might be changed 
 and converted." If the upward progress was slow, 
 it was also sure ; the few following years of his life 
 might not have been marked ones in his outward 
 history, yet doubtless they were of deep importance 
 in the sight of One who, having redeemed him to 
 God by His blood, had entered his tempest-tossed 
 heart, and vv^ith 
 
 "An unseen hand was building 
 For Himself a temple there." 
 
 During this time he found neither body nor mind 
 adapted to the " good and lawful " calling of a 
 schoolmaster ; he therefore diligently employed 
 himself in learning his father's trade and a little 
 husbandry, living meanwhile with his parents, who, 
 to his great joy, he says, also " came to receive the 
 Truth." Some of his spare hours were spent alone 
 in the woods, in great distress from the temptation 
 to despair. But the enemy was not suffered to up- 
 root the grain of faith which had been sown in his 
 soul ; and there were times when, conscious of the 
 sincerity and steadfastness of his endeavours to fol- 
 
JOHN BANKS. I39 
 
 low his Saviour, he could even ask himself, '' What 
 evil have I done since I received the truth ? " 
 
 " So," he writes, " through faith in the power of God, 
 and shining of His glorious light in my heart, I overcame 
 the wicked one ; through a diligent waiting in the light 
 and keeping close unto the power of God ; in waiting upon 
 Him in silence among His people, in which exercise my 
 soul delighted. And oh ! the days and nights of comfort 
 and divine consolation wewere made partakers of together; 
 and the faithful and true in heart to God, still are ; but 
 it was through various trials and deep exercises." 
 
 Although he does not yet appear to have fully 
 learnt that lesson — which seems so very hard to learn 
 — of trusting in the Lord with all the heart, he thus 
 reveals the secret of his steady growth in grace : 
 ** Now the way of my prosperity in the Truth and 
 work of God, I always found was by being faithful 
 to the Lord in what He in the light manifested." 
 After a while his mind became more peaceful, and he 
 began to hope that the sore struggles with temptation 
 were nearly ended ; and great was his grief when he 
 found that, though much evil had been overcome 
 through the grace of God, Satan was well able to 
 invent new allurements when old ones failed to 
 ensnare. Yet, after all, victory must have been 
 nearer than he imagined, for he was becoming 
 ** Confident in self-despair.**. 
 
 ** Oh ! " he says, " how was I humbled and bowed, and 
 laid low. Wherefore I took up a godly resolution in His 
 fear — ' / will rely upon the sufficiency of Thy Power,. 
 O Lord, for ever.' So that about six years after I had 
 received the Truth by believing therein, I came to be 
 settled in the power of God, and made weighty in my 
 spirit thereby." Thus did he 
 
140 JOHN BANKS. 
 
 venture his all upon Christ, 
 
 And prove Him sufficient for all. 
 
 He refers to the conflict he passed through with 
 regard to his call to the ministry, but adds, " The 
 Lord through His pov^er wrought me into a willing- 
 ness." When he was about twenty-five, he was one 
 day attending a meeting of Friends held out of doors 
 near Coldbeck, when the congregation was disturbed 
 by a justice of the peace, who rudely rode into the 
 group as they sat on the ground. John Banks — who 
 had knelt down to pray — he violently struck with his 
 horsewhip over the head and face, and then ordered 
 his man to take him away, which he did by dragging 
 him down the hill by his hair. John Banks and 
 three others were committed to the common gaol, 
 where they were kept for several days without bread 
 or water, because they could not pay the covetous 
 gaoler eightpence for every meal. He told them he 
 would see how long they could live without food; and 
 as he would not allow their friends even to provide 
 them with straw, their only bed was the prison win- 
 dow, where, on the cold stones of the thick wall, 
 there was room for one person to rest at a time. 
 Their companions are thus described by John Banks : 
 " A Bedlam man and four with him, for theft ; two 
 notorious thieves called Redhead and Wadelad ; two 
 moss-troopers for stealing cattle ; and one woman 
 for murdering her own child." Bad enough such 
 company must have been at the best ; but soon 
 these poor creatures were freely supplied with drink 
 by some visitors, and began to abuse their quiet 
 fellow-prisoners. " In that very close, nasty place," 
 
JOHN BANKS. I4I 
 
 writes John Banks, "we were nearly stifled." Hap- 
 pily, the next day they were removed to another 
 room. The hearts of his parents must have yearned 
 for their only child ; but in loving letters he begs 
 them to be " not at all dejected or cast down con- 
 cerning him, but rather to rejoice. All I desire is 
 that you may come to say in truth, * The will of the 
 Lord be done!'" He gives no details of outward 
 sufferings, to add to their sorrow : but says that he 
 " never knew the worth of a prison so much before, to his 
 sweet peace and inward consolation,'' 
 
 About twelve months after his release he married ; 
 and four years later went with John Wilkinson to 
 visit the south and west of England, being made 
 truly willing, he says, ** to leave his dear wife and 
 sweet child, and go forth in the power and spirit of 
 the Lord Jesus." They had many meetings on their 
 way; in Yorkshire these were held daily, and were 
 eagerly flocked to by the people, who seemed to be 
 hungering and thirsting after righteousness. To his 
 wife John Banks writes : — 
 
 ** The further I am separated from thee, the nearer thou 
 art unto me, even in that which neither length of time 
 nor distance of place shall ever be able to wear out, or 
 bring a decay upon. ... I have been under weakness of 
 body, but nevertheless I have faith to believe that what- 
 soever the Lord is pleased to exercise me in, He will 
 give me ability to perform, and nothing shall be able to 
 hinder it ; and therefore I am truly content whatsoever 
 the Lord may suffer to come upon me, because hitherto 
 He has kept me, to His praise and glory, and to my sweet 
 peace. . . . The Truth of our God prospers ; yea, very 
 many are coming in to partake thereof; for people in 
 many places are weary of the hireling priests and dead 
 formal worship, and their assemblies grow thin." 
 
y 
 
 142 JOHN BANKS. 
 
 Meanwhile his wife was brought low by a violent 
 fever, but writes that she is " well in mind and spirit, 
 and desires nothing more than that the will of the 
 Lord might be done in all things." The meetings 
 held during this journey were very large and satis- 
 factory, and John Banks says that to his companion 
 and himself it had been a sweet and precious time. 
 It was his desire that a brief remembrance of what he 
 was enabled to do and suffer for Christ should "be 
 kept on record for the good of ages to come,'' Twelve 
 times he crossed the sea to Ireland, often in violent 
 storms. After he had sailed a few times from White- 
 haven, the sailors become very anxious to have him 
 for a passenger, saying, *' You are the happiest man 
 that ever we have carried over sea, for we get well 
 along when we have you." 
 
 He lived to see large results from his diligent and 
 protracted labours, in eight meetings in his native 
 countr}', as well as in many other places. Besides 
 perils at sea, he tells us that he had to brave " rob- 
 bers by land, bad spirits, and false brethren ; . . . 
 yet, through the strength of the power of God, was 
 well kept and preserved in and through all, having 
 faith therein.^' 
 
 At the time of John Banks' second visit to Ireland 
 he thought that it would be right for him to attend 
 the half-year's meeting at Dublin, so two days before 
 it began he went to Whitehaven, from vrhich port he 
 wished to sail. Finding that the wind was from a 
 ver}' unfavourable quarter, his wife and friends asked 
 him to delay his voyage ; but his simple answer was 
 that he " could not," and that he might rely upon 
 
JOHN BANKS. I43 
 
 Him who had power to command the winds and seas. 
 He then spoke to the captain of a vessel and requested 
 some of his crew, if the wind became fair before the 
 morning, to call for him, which they said they would 
 do with all their heart, though apparently thinking it 
 very unlikely that such a speedy change would take 
 place. But at daybreak the hasty summons came, 
 and the passage was an excellent one, enabling him 
 to attend the ** glorious, heavenly meeting " to which , 
 his heart had been drawn. He felt himself especially 
 directed to hold a meeting on the following Sabbath 
 at Wicklow, where great excitement was caused by 
 the announcement that an English Quaker was going 
 to preach, a priest having ^ne all in his power to 
 prejudice the people against him. The landlady of 
 the inn where he and his friends lodged begged him 
 to walk to the carpenter's shop, where the meeting was 
 to be held, by a backway, as a guard of musketeers 
 was waiting at the Cross to take him ; but this he did 
 not think it right to do, saying that he had a testi- 
 mony to bear for the Lord in the town. Almost as 
 soon as he had taken his seat in the meeting, a ser- 
 geant, with no warrant but his halbert, followed by 
 the musketeers, ordered John Banks to appear before 
 the Governor, who had been persuaded by the priest 
 and his wife to imprison him and his friends. A 
 crowd of people followed them to the gaoler's house, 
 which he allowed them to enter although they occu- 
 pied two or three rooms. ** So," writes John Banks, 
 '*in a little time my mouth was opened in the de- 
 monstration of the Power and Spirit of God, and I 
 preached the way of life and salvation to the people 
 
144 JOHN BANKS. 
 
 in and through Jesus Christ His Son, . . . and it 
 was a blessed, heavenly day for the Lord and His 
 truth ; for His heavenly power broke in upon many, 
 and several were convinced." When the priest told 
 the sheriff of this gathering, he added that he feared 
 unless something were done all the town of Wick- 
 low would be Quakers, and then there would be 
 "no abiding for him." Notwithstanding many 
 threats, the gaoler allowed John Banks so much 
 liberty that almost every hour during the three days 
 of his imprisonment he had religious conversation 
 with numerous visitors, whose hearts the Lord had 
 opened to receive his message ; and he was only 
 sorry that he had not a longer time to spend with 
 them. When told by the Governor that he should 
 be set free if he would never again hold meetings at 
 Wicklow, he declined making this promise, but 
 added : " If I do — if thou hast power so to do — thou 
 mayest put me in prison again, and I believe I shall 
 be as willing to suffer then as now." They separated 
 in a very friendly manner, the Governor saying, 
 " God keep you in that mind you are now in, for I 
 think you are in a good mind." Whilst John 
 Banks' parting words were, " Governor, fare thee 
 well ; and in so saying, I truly desire the welfare 
 both of thy body and soul." 
 
 Before leaving Ireland, feeling that his work at 
 Wicklow was not altogether accomplished he returned 
 there for a short time, and in spite of threatened 
 opposition "a blessed, heavenly, peaceable meeting" 
 was held. When, two years later, he re-visited this 
 town and called on some Friends who were confined 
 
JOHN BANKS. I45 
 
 in the prison, the gaoler said : ** Oh, Mr. Banks, 
 are you come again ? I think you need not to have 
 come any more, for you did your business the last 
 time you were here, for I think all the town of 
 Wicklow will be Quakers." After two years more 
 had passed away a still greater change was per- 
 ceptible ; the Governor was in England. The soldiers 
 had left, the priest was dead, a Friends' meeting 
 was established, and, as John Banks says, "Truth 
 still prospering." At Antrim he, in company with 
 some others, had arranged to hold a meeting in a 
 private house, but being prevented by a constable 
 he felt constrained to address the people in the street, 
 ** turning their minds to the teachings of God in 
 themselves." The angry constable made violent 
 efforts to drag him out of the assembly, but all power 
 to do this seemed to be taken from him, and also 
 from another strong man whose services he had en- 
 listed. A violent storm was also raging, the rain 
 pouring down in torrents, *' a true figure," remarks 
 John Banks, " of their raging, persecuting spirit." 
 Yet he could describe it as " a glorious, heavenly 
 day, for the Lord's power and heavenly presence in 
 a most glorious manner did appear in the meeting, 
 and many were convinced and several came clearly 
 forth to own and receive the Truth.'" 
 
 In 1675, John Banks attended the Yearly Meeting, 
 which he says that he would not have missed for all 
 that could be mentioned in the world. " Oh, how 
 near," he writes, " were we to the Lord, and how 
 near and dear one unto another, in the unity and 
 fellowship of His holy, blessed Spirit! ... Oh, that 
 
 L 
 
146 JOHN BANKS. 
 
 I may never be forgetful of this glorious, heavenly 
 and living appearance of our God with us, by His 
 glorious power and life-giving presence." He tells 
 his wife that he cannot fix the time for his return 
 home, his secret cry to the Lord being, " Let me not 
 go hence except Thy presence go with me;" and 
 expresses his hope that already his labour of love had 
 been blessed to many souls. 
 
 The following year, John Watson being his com- 
 panion, "many precious and heavenly meetings" 
 were held in Ireland, although, as John Banks says, 
 they were sometimes disturbed by " the collegianists 
 rushing in like so many wild beasts out of the forest; 
 but the Lord," he adds, " by His power is pleased so 
 to tame them that they are put to silence and made 
 to be quiet. . . . Our travels and exercises are made 
 very comfortable unto us, because of the power and 
 presence of the Lord that doth go along with us." 
 In the same letter he writes : " Oh, that Friends 
 might live in love . . . and whatsoever would arise 
 among them that in anywise tends to the breaking of 
 their heavenly unity and brotherly fellowship, and 
 sowing of dissension in the churches of Christ, may 
 -be nipped in the bud." Afterwards his friend and 
 himself crossed in a half-decked boat to Scotland, and 
 we read again of " the Lord's power chaining down 
 some wild scoffing people at two heavenly meetings" 
 in Edinburgh. Before reaching Douglas the travellers 
 lost their way on a mountain amidst snow and ice, not 
 reaching that town until late at night ; but the meeting 
 held on the morrow with the few Friends there was a 
 time of refreshing from the presence of the Lord. 
 
JOHN BANKS. I47 
 
 Soon after returning home John Banks suffered 
 from a severe pain in the shoulder, which, passing 
 into the arm and hand, increased until they became 
 powerless, and began to wither, and medical aid 
 proved unavailing. At length, one night whilst 
 asleep, he "saw in a vision" that he was with George 
 Fox, and thought that he said to him, " George, my 
 faith is such that if thou seest it thy way to lay thy 
 hand upon my shoulder, my arm and hand shall be 
 made whole throughout." For two days and nights 
 his mind was strongly impressed with the idea that 
 this was, as he says, " a true vision," and that he 
 ought really to go to George Fox, who was then at 
 his home at Swarthmore Hall. We certainly cannot 
 wonder that he felt this to be " a near and great trial 
 of faith," and that it was only after much mental 
 conflict that he became willing to do so. After 
 attending Swarthmore Meeting he went to George 
 Fox's residence and, in a private interview with him 
 in the hall, told him of his dream and the impressions 
 which had followed, at the same time showing him 
 his arm. They walked together silently for a short 
 time, until George Fox turned, and laying his hand 
 on John Banks's shoulder, said, ** The Lord heal 
 thee within and without." Then they parted, John 
 Banks going to Marsh Grange, the residence of 
 Thomas Lower (a son-in-law of George Fox) ; as he 
 sat down to supper he suddenl}- discovered that he 
 had raised his hand and was using it, just as he had 
 been wont to do three months before ; at which he 
 says, his " heart was broken into true tenderness 
 before the Lord." The recovery was complete, and 
 
148 JOHN BANKS. 
 
 on the following day he went to his home. George 
 Fox's remark when they next met was, '* John, thou 
 mended? Thou mended?" and on receiving an 
 affirmative answer he added, " Give God the glory," 
 which indeed John Banks was most ready to do.* 
 
 During a meeting held at a private house at Dull- 
 verton, an informer entered and took down the names 
 of some who were present, being also very abusive to 
 them, and to John Banks who was preaching ; and 
 he felt constrained to pause and say, " Friends and 
 people, mark and take notice of the end of that 
 wicked man." He was after a while hung for the 
 murder of his wife. 
 
 In 1678 John Banks was, he says, " moved to give 
 forth a paper " which was read in many meetings ; a 
 few extracts follow. After alluding to Christ as "the 
 High Priest of our profession, our Reedemer and 
 Restorer, our Captain, King and Lawgiver, our ever- 
 lasting Shepherd," he continues : — 
 
 ** Although many have been our trials both within and 
 without, the Lord by the all-sufficiency of His power 
 hath wrought our deliverance through all, as we have 
 and do rely upon the same, so that sorrow and sighing is 
 fled away, and everlasting joy is sprung up; even because 
 "of the glory and excellency of the power which hath 
 appeared, which is all-sufficient to work our deliverance, 
 and that throughout, yea endless joy is known here, end- 
 less comfort aud and satisfaction.'' 
 
 * " Every true revival of religion," remarks a recent writer, " is 
 unquestionably accompanied by signs which are not trickery. . . . 
 No great popular return to the habits of piety has ever been made, 
 from the time of the Apostles, without the occurrence of certain 
 spiritual phenomena which cannot be entirely explained away by 
 any theory."^ 
 
JOHN BANKS. I49 
 
 The following counsel seems peculiarly fitting 
 from one who himself so faithfully followed his 
 Saviour : — 
 
 " Oh the great care and tenderness God hath had over 
 us. Did He call us to be idle ? Surely nay. Did He 
 give a gift unto male and female that we should hide it 
 in the earth, and not improve it to His glory ? Oh, nay. 
 Hath He done what He hath done for us that we should 
 always be as children, when we could neither speak nor 
 act as a man ? Oh ! surely nay. But that we should 
 grow up in stature and strength before Him as perfect 
 men and women in Christ Jesus our Holy Head ; that we 
 might all work together as a body fitly framed in holy 
 order in His heavenly power and pure spirit." 
 
 In the same epistle we find this practical advice : — 
 
 *'Be faithful, careful and diligent in keeping of all your 
 meetings in the name and power of God ; and cry not, 
 * My business, my business, my work and my trade,' 
 when you should go and wait upon, worship, and do 
 service for the Lord ; but mind the Lord's work and busi- 
 ness, and live by faith, and you will have time enough to 
 do your own." 
 
 About this time John Banks felt that " a peculiar 
 testimony " was given him against what he calls " a 
 wicked spirit of separation," for he believed that 
 Satan, being envious of the progress of the Redeemer's 
 cause, was doing all the mischief in his power ; in 
 one, especially, of the thirteen meetings held by 
 Christopher Story and himself on their way to the 
 Yearly Meeting in 1679, John Banks deeply felt its 
 presence, but felt also that it was " chained down by 
 the Lord's eternal power." In a letter to his wife, 
 from London, he remarks that such was the glorious 
 appearance of the Lord in all the meetings that his 
 
150 JOHN BANKS. 
 
 heart broke into tenderness whenever he thought of 
 it. In the week preceding the Yearly Meeting peace- 
 ful and quiet meetings, apparently held for the public, 
 were attended by thousands. 
 
 Of a different character were the meetings he 
 afterwards had in the country, which greatly dis- 
 tressed him on account — he says — of " that spirit of 
 separation and division which had sown much dis- 
 cord in the Church of Christ." In Wiltshire this 
 trial reached its height. One night, sleep having 
 entirely forsaken him, Christopher Story, who was 
 still his companion, kindly said to him in the early 
 morning: " Dear heart, John, I think thou hast slept 
 none this night ; I will get up and walk abroad, per- 
 haps thou mayst get some sleep." " I find no want 
 of sleep," was the reply; " howbeit, thou mayst do 
 as thou hast a mind." Soon John Banks fell asleep, 
 to very vividly dream that he was desperately at- 
 tacked by " three ugly, serpentine creatures ;" having 
 overcome two of them, he was in the midst of a 
 terrible struggle with the last when he awoke. He 
 felt sure that this vision indicated the opposition 
 which would rise against him that day, and earnestly 
 prayed for help. As he sat in meeting three men 
 entered, who were strangers to him, yet he felt 
 certain that bitter enmity dwelt in their hearts ; and, 
 as soon as he was constrained to speak against the 
 evils of dissension, their hatred very plainly showed 
 itself, by their angry countenances, and by their 
 rising in turn with the intention of interrupting him ; 
 one of them even went up to him whilst he was still 
 preaching, and unbuttoned his coat, apparently with 
 
JOHN BANKS. 151 
 
 the intention of resorting to physical force. But, as 
 John Banks says, the Lord's power was too strong 
 for them ; they silently resumed their seats, and we 
 read that in the latter part of the meeting "■ Friends 
 were abundantly comforted in the living enjoyment 
 of the Lord's power and presence." 
 
 Early in 1684, John Banks having conscientiously 
 refused to pay tithes (amounting to 6s. 8d.), he was 
 committed to prison at Carlisle, where he was con- 
 fined for nearly seven years ! But he was still the 
 Lord's freeman, and, constrained by his love, he 
 preached from the casement window, notwithstand- 
 ing the menaces of clergymen, mayor, aldermen, and 
 gaoler, of which he says that he took no notice, 
 knowing the furthest of all their power, and trusting 
 in the all-sufficient power of God. Very violent 
 measures were frequently taken by the cruel gaoler 
 to put a stop to his ministry ; but he writes that the 
 Lord never failed in the hour of greatest need to 
 bear up the spirits of his fellow-sufferers and himself 
 " with courage and boldness, for His own name's 
 sake, whose power and presence was daily manifested 
 amongst them." John Banks' words to the infu- 
 riated mayor were : " The Lord has opened my 
 mouth, and thou and all the assistance thou canst 
 get in the city cannot stop it ;" and, in reply to a 
 further threat, he added : ** I neither fear thee, thy 
 gag, nor the common gaol." He told the gaoler that 
 wherever he might place him, as a prisoner he would 
 be subject to him, but in what the Lord required he 
 was resolved in His name to stand faithful ; that he 
 well remembered the joy and gladness with which, 
 
152 JOHN BANKS. 
 
 twenty years before, he had been enabled to suffer 
 confinement in the common gaol; "and thinkest 
 thou, man," he continued, " I will play the coward 
 now after so many years ? " He confesses that not 
 only was his body bruised, but that his health was 
 also impaired by the gaoler's cruelty ; yet he can tell 
 his wife in a letter that he has "great peace and 
 soul-satisfaction from the Lord," and, as usual, writes 
 in a strain of praise and thanksgiving : — 
 
 " Happy is he whose heart 
 Hath found the art 
 To turn his double pains to double praise." 
 
 One summer evening the gaoler carried out his 
 threat of confining John Banks (who had been ill 
 for some time) in the common gaol, which was so 
 crowded already that there was barely space enough 
 for the prisoners either to sit or lie. The first night 
 John Banks and a Friend who was with him could 
 only find a place close by a disgusting sink, the 
 gaoler tauntingly telling them that if there was not 
 room for them by it they might go into it. Here 
 they were kept for a fortnight, and " the Lord," 
 writes John Banks, " was pleased to make it as a 
 place of healing and restoration of strength to me 
 . . . endless praises, honour, and glory be given to 
 Him." Even whilst detained in this dark gaol, he 
 employed himself, as was his wont throughout his long 
 imprisonment, by working at his trade of glover and 
 fellmonger. He was at length liberated in 1691, by 
 William IH.'s Act of Grace. 
 
 " How came it, men of faith, to pass 
 That ye were mighty handed ? 
 
JOHN BANKS. I53 
 
 How brake ye down the gates of brass, 
 When few of ye were banded ? " 
 
 ** How was it, lovers of your kind, 
 
 Though ye were mocked and hated. 
 
 That ye with clear and patient mind 
 Truth's holy doctrine stated ? 
 
 In God, as in an ark, ye kept ; 
 Around — and not above you — swept 
 
 The flood, till it abated." 
 
 After his liberation he took a religious journey to 
 the west of England, where the Lord so blessed his 
 labours that his " travel and exercises were made 
 very sweet, comfortable, and delightsome." Writing 
 to his wife and children from Bristol, he remarks : 
 " it is such who are kept near unto the Lord in their 
 hearts, who are kept living, fresh and tender ; for He 
 causes His heavenly rain and gracious showers to be 
 poured forth upon them, that they are made to say, 
 * What manner of love is this, wherewithal the Lord 
 our God hath loved us ? And what manner of per- 
 sons ought we to be ? ' " 
 
 In the latter part of this year John Banks' wife 
 died. Although this was *'the greatest trial that 
 ever he had met with, above anything here below," 
 the Saviour in whom he so steadfastly trusted bore 
 up his sorrowing soul. The warmth of his domestic 
 affections, the earnestness of his solicitude for the 
 welfare of his children, his loving interest in his ser- 
 vants, are abundantly shown in his numerous letters. 
 His travels in England alone were very extensive, 
 and a list of even the counties he visited would be 
 too long for insertion here ; allusion has already 
 
154 JO^N BANKS. 
 
 been made to Scotland, and to his repeated voyages 
 to Ireland ; his labours were greatly blessed to many, 
 some of whom became in their turn faithful ministers 
 of the Gospel. 
 
 In 1696 John Banks thought it would be best for 
 him to take up his residence in Somersetshire, and in 
 the same year he entered into his second marriage. 
 During the last fourteen years of his life he often 
 attended the London Yearly Meeting, and undertook 
 many religious visits to the north and west of Eng- 
 land, even reaching the Land's End. In the latter 
 part of his life he suffered intensely from gout : at 
 one time his neighbours were called to the house, as 
 it was thought that his last hour was come ; but to 
 his own soul these words were applied : " Thou must 
 not go hence yet, thou hast not wholly finished the 
 work of thy day," and from that moment he felt no 
 doubt that he should rally for a time. Great as was 
 his affliction, even more than he was able to express, 
 so also, he says, the tender care of his Heavenly 
 Father was beyond utterance. As he was now un- 
 able to walk to the Meeting-house, the Friends as- 
 sembled for worship at his house, where the Monthly 
 Meetings were also held. The following extract is 
 from a letter written to an intimate friend : — 
 
 " That which makes us near and dear one to another 
 is because we have received certain knowledge that we 
 are the children of one Father, begotten again to a lively 
 hope in and through Jesus Christ by the quickening of 
 His eternal power and spirit. ... As a tender Father 
 He has always waited and still doth, to be good and 
 gracious unto us, with His gracious rain and heavenly 
 dew that He hath caused many times to fall upon us, 
 
JOHN BANKS. 1 55 
 
 that we might grow from one stature and degree of 
 hoHness to another — that so we might come to answer 
 the good end wherefore He has done what He has for us, 
 and made us a people that were none. . . . Happy are 
 they who can say in truth that what they do in His service, 
 they do it as unto the Lord." 
 
 Two months before his death, although very weak, 
 he attended several neighbouring meetings — at a 
 Monthly Meeting preaching for an hour and a half 
 to the comfort and refreshment of his friends, whom 
 he earnestly exhorted to a holy zeal for God. His 
 exhaustion was such that he needed the support of 
 two men when going to his lodging ; but he was 
 very cheerful, and on the evening of the same day 
 had a meeting to which the public were invited. 
 
 Notwithstanding the extreme pain which accom- 
 panied his last illness, the praise of the Lord was 
 still his theme. " I am rich," he said, " in faith to- 
 wards God, and my cup is full of the love of God." 
 He addressed a young man who came to take leave 
 of him with these words : "The Lord be with thee, 
 and I desire thee in His love to give up in obedience 
 to the workings of the Spirit of God in thy heart, 
 and then He will do great and glorious things for 
 thee." The intimate friend who gives the account 
 of his last illness, adds : " He earnestly desired 
 Friends to keep in the unity of the Spirit which is 
 the bond of perfect peace, with a great deal more 
 good advice and counsel ; it being attended with the 
 living divine power of the great eternal God which 
 did tender the hearts of many of those present. . . 
 He said that he had nothing to do but to die ; he 
 
156 JOHN BANKS. 
 
 was very sensible to the last, and after all his violent 
 pains he had a very easy passage, and so died in 
 peace the 6th of the Eighth Month, 1710, aged 
 seventy-three years, and is undoubtedly entered into 
 the rest which remains for the people of God. The 
 Lord prepare us all more and more for the entering 
 thereinto, through the alone merits and mediation of 
 his dear Son, our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ." 
 
 In lives which, like John Banks's, have steadily 
 shed light around them, because they reflected the 
 rays of the Sun of Righteousness, do we not see the 
 blessed result of an implicit trust in Christ, and a 
 full and practical belief in the direct and perceptible 
 influence of the Holy Spirit ? " Where people," 
 writes John Woolman, " are divinely gathered into 
 a holy fellowship and faithfully abide under the in- 
 fluence of that Spirit which leads into all truth — 
 they are the light of the world. Now holding this 
 profession to me hath appeared weighty, even beyond 
 what I can fully express." 
 
157 
 
 HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. 
 
 " With Himself, God hath and doth daily gratify me with a full 
 reward for all, and all manner of, my manifold trials and daily suffer- 
 ings and exercises. . . . Him alone it was that my broken heart was 
 by the power of His constraining love resolved to follow for ever, 
 even through the greatest difficulties and the hardest straits, trials, and 
 hardships, with all manner of outward and inward sufferings, that 
 might be permitted to happen unto, or fall upon, any one of the 
 children of men." — From a letter of Humphry Smith, dated front 
 Winchester Prison. 
 
 When Benjamin Seebohm was preaching in Brad- 
 ford Meeting-house in 1846, for the last time before 
 his departure for America, he said that "his mind 
 had been carried back to a period two hundred years 
 ago, when a remarkable visitation was extended to 
 the people of this land, and men were stirred up to 
 exhibit Christianity to the world, not only in its 
 fundamental principles, but in its practical bearings. 
 . . . They were much misunderstood by those who, 
 however sincere in adopting their own modes of serving 
 God, failed to draw the same inferences from the 
 same premises. But believing they were under the 
 influence of the Spirit, that it was God Himself who 
 spake to them in the secret of their hearts, they dared 
 not say to Him, * Thus far shalt thou go and no 
 further.* . . . The life-blood of religion circulated not 
 only at the heart, but to the extremity of every limb ! 
 . . . What tenderness to good lay at the root of their 
 supposed stubbornness and obstinacy : that which is 
 pliable to good will he unbending to evilJ" 
 
158 HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. 
 
 In the long roll of names which might be given 
 from the earliest ages to the time of the Apostle Paul, 
 and from the time of the Apostle Paul to the present 
 day, as exemplifying the words last quoted, it would 
 not perhaps be easy to find a more appropriate one 
 than that of Humphry Smith. Yet little can be 
 learnt about his life except from allusions now and 
 then made by himself in his Works. These, whilst 
 still in manuscript, he had bound, and presented the 
 volume to his only son, writing within it the request 
 that it should be kept safe and unspoiled, so that his 
 love to Christ might be read and seen in years to 
 come. After his death this book was published " by 
 Andrew Sowle, at the Crooked Billet, in Holloway 
 Lane, near Shoreditch, 1683." Only a very few 
 copies are, it is said, extant. 
 
 Some idea of his holy constancy may be formed 
 from the following words of his own, written whilst a 
 prisoner : " How can I but declare the Lord's won- 
 drous works and proclaim His Name wherever I 
 come, and confess Him before men, though I should 
 suffer much more prisoning, dungeon, and whipping 
 than I have done ? Surely His Name I will declare 
 in the world. . . His love constraineth me, whose 
 name is called Jesus, who hath and doth save from 
 sin, for whose Name's sake I have been brought 
 before Rulers, haled and beat out of the synagogues, 
 numbered amongst transgressors, tried at Assizes as 
 an offender, yet there denied the liberty of a mur- 
 derer; being six times imprisoned, twice stripped 
 naked and whipped with rods, and since put into 
 Bridewell. Once put into and kept long in a dungeon 
 
HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. I59 
 
 for praying ; often abused in prison ; sometimes near 
 death ; in trials often, in perils often, in loss of goods, 
 in daily reproaches, and in that which has been greater 
 than all these things ; and yet I have been preserved 
 unto this day by the power of Him who is the 
 Light, and the only Son of God, to whom be eternal 
 glory." 
 
 The place and date of Humphry Smith's birth are 
 both unknown; but in his address " To all Parents of 
 Children" we find a few particulars of his early days, 
 when the first words in the Bible which, to use his 
 own forcible expression, " pierced his heart and 
 remained as a thing printed and sealed there from 
 the pure love of God," were " He hath filled the 
 hungry with good things, and the rich hath He sent 
 empty away." His young heart was often tender 
 and contrite, and his parents' utter absence of sym- 
 pathy, and the harshness of his father, which, even at 
 the age of six or seven, was the almost daily cause of 
 bitter crying, must have been a crushing trial. 
 
 When reviewing his infancy, he apparently feels 
 that their conduct had provoked him to wrath, and 
 had thus hindered him from coming to Christ. Yet 
 this could not have been altogether the case, for he 
 writes of God's love being '' exceeding prevalent upon 
 his little tender heart, and much more precious than 
 anything of the world. Sometimes," he adds, " as I 
 went along the way when it came into my heart, then 
 should I even as it were beg and cry with many 
 tears, and had boldness towards God as towards a 
 familiar friend, though much in submission and fear." 
 And when, poor child, he could find a place where 
 
l60 HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. 
 
 he felt quite sure of being undiscovered, he would 
 kneel in earnest prayer ; and he remarks that he 
 certainly never knew the kingdom of righteousness 
 and peace until he again became as he was when a 
 little child. 
 
 If a companion struck him, he would not return the 
 blow; and great was his distress when, notwithstand- 
 ing his earnest pleadings, he was compelled by his 
 father or mother to destroy a puppy or kitten. " My 
 life in me was grieved to do it," he says, "which 
 may be a warning to all parents that they be not the 
 cause of their hardening of their children's hearts, for 
 that which hardens the heart separates from God 
 who is love, and from Christ who comes to save the 
 life." Some advice follows on moderation in dis- 
 cipline, which is also more applicable to Humphry 
 Smith's day than to our own, which has, perhaps not 
 altogether inappropriately, been called "the age of 
 obedient parents." 
 
 Even at this early period he felt strong disappro- 
 bation of infant baptism. When he one day said 
 that he should never stand as a godfather, some one 
 who was present swore at him, and replied that it 
 was a pity any one did it for him. He answered, " I 
 matter not if they had never done it, for I was 
 never the better." 
 
 When he was about ten years old his father some- 
 times sent him to market to sell things, and he was 
 often called a fool and dunce because he would not 
 ask more for the goods than the price at which he was 
 allowed to sell them. He often got into trouble from 
 his parents' dislike to his quietness and silence when 
 
HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. l6l 
 
 his heart was filled with serious thoughts. Now and 
 then he would retire to the woods to wait on God. 
 
 ** Sometimes the love of God," he says, "would break 
 through me, and His Word would make my heart soft, 
 and I felt the same then which now is my life ; and 
 now I know that those that wait on the Lord renew 
 their strength ; and though it is written the Lord v/as 
 weary of the people's sacrifices and with their words, 
 yet it was never written in Scripture that the Lord was 
 weary of those that waited upon Him. . . . The Lord 
 hath not left Himself without a witness in every con- 
 science ; and it is Christ that is given for a witness 
 (Isa. 1. 5). And certainly my soul was cut off from the 
 Life when I was forced from hearing His voice in me ; 
 and I do affirm in the presence of the Lord God that I 
 had not returned out of the degenerate state which I was 
 hurried into, if I had not waited in and been obedient 
 unto the light of Christ which was in me of a child. . . . 
 The Lord knoweth I was long not knowing where to find 
 the rest, having been hurried and led out from my true 
 Guide." 
 
 When at the request of others he used a form of 
 prayer every night, instead of praying for himself, he 
 found that he had exchanged " a honeycomb for dry 
 heath." It seems to have been God's will that he 
 should fully learn, from personal experience, the utter 
 emptiness of a form of religion when altogether un- 
 accompanied by its living power. The clergymen to 
 whom his attention was now turned must have been 
 perfectly unfit for their responsible office, or he could 
 not have had cause to make this strong assertion — 
 '* As true as the Lord God of heaven and earth liveth, 
 priests and sermons did me more harm than all the 
 rest." In his paper entitled " A Word to all Pro- 
 fessors " he writes ; — 
 
 M 
 
l62 HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. 
 
 " Now, in the world there are sects, schisms, judg- 
 ments, and opinions, and according to the number of 
 their fancies so are there ways of worship. . . . Now 
 Friends, all you that have looked after me and other 
 men for teaching, now I can write unto you what 
 I know, that none teacheth like Him who is now my 
 Teacher indeed ; and will be yours if you are made 
 willing and obedient to be taught, directed, and guided 
 by Him who is gathering His out of all nations, kindreds, 
 and tongues.* . . . Oh ! leave all for Christ. You can- 
 not serve two masters ; you cannot be of the world and 
 of God ; you must witness a separation. . . . The sword 
 is drawn against the Man of Sin, to cut it down root and 
 branch, and to set up the kingdom of Christ in righteous- 
 ness and true holiness. And this work of the Lord shall 
 certainly go on, and Men, Devils, or the Gates of Hell 
 shall never prevail against it." 
 
 George Fox describes him as " a worthy soldier 
 and follower of the Lamb, who kept his habitation 
 in Christ Jesus ;" and George Whitehead writes : 
 " I have this testimony nakedly and in the sight of 
 the Lord to bear, that he was a man fearing God 
 and hating iniquity, fervent and zealous against 
 deceit and hypocrisy, and endued with a heavenly 
 gift." Another tells us that " He never mur- 
 mured at the exercises that he met withal through 
 wicked and unreasonable men." And one who, for 
 a year, shared with him "that straight, noisome 
 
 * Elsewhere Humphry Smith shows his appreciation of the true 
 preaching of the Gospel. In his address " To the Tender-hearted 
 Lambs of Christ " he says, " The Lord in His power gave utterance 
 to His servants and messengers, and then were the words of His 
 Truth as food to the hungry, and with much gladness of heart was 
 the sound of the way of life by many received. . . . Then did the 
 Lord visit such again and again in His lovingkindness by His 
 servants." 
 
HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. 163 
 
 prison of Winchester," says that the love of God 
 constrains him to testify that " he was a man that 
 loved the Lord with an upright heart, and that it 
 was as meat and drink to him to do the will of God, 
 desiring to spend and be spent for the Gospel's sake." 
 Whilst his devoted and enthusiastic friend, Nicholas 
 Complin — who also ended his life in prison — writes : 
 *' Is thy holy, innocent, pure life to be buried in 
 oblivion as not to be remembered by us any more ? 
 Are thy sufferings, with all thy valiant engagements 
 with the enemies of thy God to be blotted out of the 
 record of the children of the Most High ? Oh ! what 
 saith my soul ? Nay, nay, let it be had in living 
 remembrance among the followers of the Lamb, and 
 let it be written upon the tables of their hearts even 
 to all generations." And again, after describing him 
 as being very meek and of a quiet spirit, he says, 
 "If any knew not the Light which condemns the 
 sin, then m the meekness of love everlasting he 
 would open unto them the way thereunto, and labour 
 mightily to bring them to the knowledge of it. Oh ! 
 how great was his love to the eternal Truth which 
 abounded in his heart ! And how would he groan 
 for the lost sheep ! Surely his love was more than 
 my tongue can express ; and his courage did abound 
 in a great measure." 
 
 It was at a time when Humphry Smith had 
 abandoned manifest ungodly habits, and was greatly 
 engrossed with his farm, *' loving outward goods 
 (as he says) more than Christ," a man of note in his 
 town, and a popular preacher (although, to quote his 
 own words, " not according to the knowledge of the 
 
164 HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. 
 
 cross of Christ"), that the secret voice of the Saviour 
 called him to forsake all and follow Him. He says 
 that the strivings of his soul can never be declared, 
 for he knew that if he gave up his heart to God he 
 should be called on to testify against the unrighte- 
 ousness, not only of the people, but also of their 
 rulers, of clergy as well as laity ; and it was given 
 him to clearly foresee the hardships, torture, and 
 imprisonments which would ensue. But he writes : 
 "The powerful Life of God did so much break 
 through me with such unspeakable love that I was 
 even willing to leave all and walk with God." As 
 he pondered the promise, " They that turn many to 
 righteousness shall shine as the stars for ever and 
 ever," the redemption of souls seemed so precious 
 to him that he thought that if, in the course of his 
 life, he could but convert one to God, it would be 
 worth while to undergo any amount of suffering ; 
 and his fears concerning his unfitness for the work 
 seemed to be answered by the words, *' Who is it 
 that openeth the mouth ? Is it not I, the Lord ? " 
 
 But soon Satan showed his skilfulness in trans- 
 forming himself into an angel of light, by causing 
 ■ Humphrey Smith to suspect that the mighty work 
 which the Holy Spirit had been performing within 
 him was a delusion, and even that it was the effect 
 of the very transformation which the Tempter had 
 made before laying this new snare. Then another 
 temptation arose : " I have seen children, wife, farms, 
 and oxen, he writes, " to hinder from the Kingdom 
 of God ; that which hindered most was the love 
 of outward goods." Yet, having tasted of the bread 
 
HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. 165 
 
 of heaven, and drank of the living water, some time 
 elapsed before the united influence of the world, the 
 flesh, and the devil, could prevail to make him " drive 
 the power of God " from him ; and when he did suc- 
 ceed in overcoming what he calls " the strivings of 
 the sweet and lovely Spirit of Truth," he was so 
 assailed by inward and outward trials that, being 
 unable to conceal his despair, it was reported he was 
 becoming mad. '' I" could neither pray nor believe," 
 he says, " but concluded that I was accursed from 
 God for ever — and that which disobeyed was accursed, 
 — and, being in a sad, miserable condition, resolved 
 to write a warning to all people that they might take 
 example by me and never resist the Spirit as I had 
 done." Before this was accomplished, however, the 
 Lord, who does not afflict willingly, caused some 
 rays of hope to pierce the dense darkness which sur- 
 rounded him. Yet it was not soon fully illumined 
 by the Sun of Righteousness, for, to use his own 
 suggestive words, he was still striving "to keep two 
 kingdoms;" but, in proof of His unfailing love, the 
 chastening hand of God was so heavily laid on him 
 that he at last told his wife and children that he 
 could bear it no longer, but that he must leave off 
 following the ways of the world with them, and 
 devote his life to the Lord. In after years, when 
 referring to God's dealings with him during this 
 period, he says, " In the Lord's judgments I now 
 rejoice for evermore." Whilst far from needlessly 
 neglecting his outward avocations, or separating 
 himself from his family, Humphry Smith seems to 
 have been almost literally called on to forsake all for 
 
l66 HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. 
 
 Christ ; but none of the sufferings through which his 
 onward path lay caused him to regret the choice he 
 had made. On the contrary, he writes, " I have 
 found the promise true, for a hundred times hundred- 
 fold have I already received, blessed be the Lord for 
 ever." 
 
 Widely different as are the circumstances of the 
 disciple of the nineteenth century, does he not also 
 find, at certain stages of his spiritual pilgrimage, 
 that there is a something — such habits or pursuits as 
 constitute the spirit of the world to him in his own 
 particular position — which, if not abandoned, may 
 greatly hinder or altogether prevent his upward pro- 
 gress; and that, hard as the sacrifice may seem, 
 Christ can give all the strength that is needed for its 
 accomplishment, and " can and does," as Humphry 
 Smith says, "with Himself make up for all," in a 
 manner which must be experienced in order to be 
 understood ? 
 
 "The true desire," he writes, "of my present en- 
 larged heart for your eternal happiness is. That as 
 the Lord of Heaven and Earth hath counted you 
 worthy of His call, in the power of His grace which 
 -bringeth salvation unto all, j^ou may not judge your- 
 selves unworthy of the Kingdom of God, but may 
 cleave unto His Truth in the inward parts, leaving 
 all that which hath kept you from it, whatsoever it 
 be ; and all that which hath hindered you, and doth 
 hinder from the life and virtue of it in your own 
 hearts — this all to leave behind you for ever, to give 
 it away freely, and as freely willing as a man would 
 part with dross for gold ! " Again, he remarks, 
 
HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. 167 
 
 " Such as knowingly deny their obedience in any- 
 thing to the light of Christ, He will deny them His 
 power in all things." 
 
 It is interesting to find that before this momentous 
 change had taken place, when daily preaching in one 
 pulpit or another — although, as we have seen, he 
 was by no means indifferent to worldly possessions — 
 he conscientiously declined receiving any sort of re- 
 muneration, and felt that even had he lacked food 
 and clothing he could not do otherwise. On one 
 occasion, when offered pTioo per annum, he refused 
 it, saying, that he would " rather go in sheepskins 
 and goatskins, and eat bread and drink water." The 
 last time that he preached before the complete change 
 in his views with regard to ministry, he remarked to the 
 congregation, " My mouth is stopped at this present, 
 but if ever the Lord shall open my mouth again, I 
 shall preach indeed ! " In allusion to the ministry 
 he writes c — 
 
 •* Though Christ, after His resurrection, said. All power 
 in heaven and in earth is given unto Me, go ye, therefore, 
 and teach — yet they were to tarry until they had the power 
 in themselves ; and when that was come, then with that 
 they went and taught the nations, from the sensible feel- 
 ing of that which taught them how to teach. . . . So the 
 power and virtue of the Holy Spirit coming forth from 
 Christ, being sent of the Father and received by the 
 disciples (who, with much desire, waited for that), em- 
 powered them to do that which before they were com- 
 manded to do. . . . And as Christ commanded them to 
 go and teach, He also required them to tarry — and so 
 not to go — until they had received power so to do ; and 
 so it was the power of the Holy Ghost in them which 
 made them ministers ; these were, and such are, truly 
 ordained ministers. . . . Then they went to teach the 
 
l68 HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. 
 
 nations and converted thousands ! . . . Thus it is with 
 Christ's followers now, they are not satisfied until they 
 are filled with that which they heard of and their souls 
 thirsted after; and so it was with them then, they were 
 filled with what they wanted before ; and then from that 
 which they were filled with, they spoke forth." 
 
 Again, he asks, 
 
 *' How can your hearts be restrained from an inexpres- 
 sible yearning after the advancing of the living Truth of 
 God which He hath so freely made you partakers of ?" 
 
 Humphry Smith's own ministry was remarkably 
 blessed ; George Fox says that, *' he did convert and 
 turn many to the Lord Jesus Christ, that had been 
 outward professors, as he himself had been, to the 
 possession of Christ ; so that he did see and wsls 
 comforted in the fruits of his labours in Christ." 
 Not unfrequently he felt himself commissioned to 
 speak and write — 
 
 ** As one to whom is given 
 To know the wrath of outraged Heaven, 
 And to pour it forth.*' 
 
 '' He spared not," writes Nicholas Complin, " but 
 cut on the right hand and slew on the left, and made 
 the arrows of his quiver to strike into the bowels of 
 God's enemies ; but he preached peace to the captive." 
 Another of his contemporaries alludes to the many 
 seals to his ministry ; one of whom, Edward Wal- 
 dren, says that he hopes he shall never forget 
 Humphry Smith, or the memorable day on which he 
 went with some others to visit him in a prison, where 
 he had been confined after holding a largely-attended 
 and remarkable meeting at Andover, in which the 
 
HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. 169 
 
 Opposition of rude soldiers could not impede the free 
 course of the word of the Lord. Edward Waldren 
 was in deep mental distress, and, to quote his own 
 phrase, " void of the saving knowledge of Jesus," 
 and, having heard of Humphry Smith, greatly longed 
 to see him, and therefore attended a meeting which 
 was held in the prison. He writes, " I have cause 
 for ever to praise the Lord in the behalf of this ten- 
 der, innocent, faithful man to God's truth and people ; 
 his memorial cannot pass into oblivion by any that 
 had the true knowledge of him, — dear Humphry 
 Smith ! " These words were written twenty years 
 after his death, and whilst Edward Waldren was a 
 prisoner in what he terms, '' This close, straight, 
 nasty, stinking prison, or county goal in Win- 
 chester," in which Humphry Smith had laid down 
 his life. 
 
 From the manner in which his friends describe 
 him, as w611 as from his own writings, one would 
 imagine that he knew well how to comfort the faint- 
 hearted, and to speak a word in season to his fellow- 
 believers ; but his own conviction was that God sent 
 him " rather to call home the lost sheep than to 
 nourish them which were already brought home." 
 Addressing such on the love of God, from Winchester 
 Bridewell, he writes : ** He spreadeth forth His arms 
 to gather them that ask not for Him. He giveth 
 gifts to the rebellious, and He is grieved with those 
 that receive not the tenders of His love. . . His 
 Light of Life hath shined in you to let you see the want 
 of a Saviour.'" 
 
 In his earnest appeal " to the Sons of Men," he 
 
170 HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. 
 
 asks, " Did you never feel a seed in you cry aloud 
 for life, though it lies in the death ? Are you quite 
 dead and past feeling? Nay, nay, there is many of 
 you are not so far hardened. Hearken and hear a 
 little. He that makes an end of sin is come near 
 unto you. Resist Him not, lest the things which 
 belong to your everlasting peace be hid from your 
 eyes for evermore, and you left desolate, only having 
 the Scriptures of Truth, and not the Truth in the 
 inward parts, where the knowledge of it makes me 
 free." How far he was from under-estimating the 
 value of the Bible will be seen by the following ex- 
 tract :- 
 
 *' Do I in the least contemn, slight, vilify, or deny the 
 Scriptures ? God forbid. Nay, I had rather my pen 
 might fall out of my hand, or my arm from my shoulder, 
 or my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth for ever, 
 than I should go about to make void the Scriptures of 
 Truth, which was given forth from that which is my life, 
 which is hid, not in the Scriptures, but with Christ in 
 God." (Col. iii. 3.) . . . " Nay, rather, I establish the 
 Scripture in directing all people unto that which the 
 Scriptures testify of and were given forth from." (John 
 V. 390 
 
 In allusion to the Holy Spirit, he WTites : — 
 
 '* Christ, when He was upon earth, did often speak 
 unto His followers of what was yet to come, and I do 
 seldom read or take notice that He did so often preach 
 and repeat any one thing unto them as that of the Spirit 
 to come, saying that It (mark, the Spirit) would lead into 
 all Truth- And seeing their weakness and unbelief, He, 
 by the often repetition thereof, did, as it were, the more 
 chiefly engage their hearts to wait for and seek after the 
 incomes of that which should comfort them and abide 
 with them when His body was gone from them." 
 
HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. I7I 
 
 It was probably in 1654, whilst residing at Little 
 Cawerne, Hereford, that Humphry Smith cast in his 
 lot with the persecuted Friends, and the following 
 summer we find him a prisoner in Evesham dungeon, 
 for refusing to take the Oath of Abjuration which was 
 tendered to him after many efforts to ensnare him, by 
 a long examination in points of doctrine, had failed. 
 He was at first confined in the gaoler's house, where 
 he was repeatedly engaged in prayer, and all who 
 were present listened with silent awe. Soon he 
 was sent to the common gaol ; the infuriated mob 
 threw water and heavy stones into the prison, and 
 treated him with the greatest indignity. But, in his 
 opinion, the magistrates were far more to blame than 
 the untaught people. Meetings were often held in 
 the street outside the prison, and were largely at- 
 tended on market-days. Many hearts were stirred, 
 and blessed results began to appear. But the Mayor 
 of Evesham vowed that he would break up the 
 Quakers' meetings ; and several Friends were vio- 
 lently arrested whilst holding one, some being placed 
 in the prison, others in the stocks, whilst three — 
 one of whom was Humphry Smith — were thrust 
 into a loathsome dungeon. 
 
 At the previous sessions the judge had said to him, 
 ** You have been kept very high all this while ; but I 
 shall take a course e'er I go hence that you shall be 
 kept shorter." The mayor caused them to be de- 
 prived of the bedding with which their friends had 
 supplied them, and although one of the prisoners* 
 who was suffering from severe toothache, begged 
 leave to keep his pillow, he was not allowed to do so. 
 
172 HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. 
 
 As the gaoler coolly told them, he could do what he 
 liked with them, for they would have no benefit from 
 the law, and no lawyer dared to plead for them. Had 
 they been imprisoned for theft or murder — regarded, 
 seemingly, as less glaring offences than that of holding 
 meetings — he could, he said, have given them more 
 liberty. The dungeon was not twelve feet square ; 
 light and air were only admitted by an aperture four 
 inches in width, through which the prisoners received 
 their food. So intolerably impure was the air which 
 escaped through this opening that sometimes the 
 people in the street could not venture to stand by it. 
 Once, at Humphry Smith's request, a Friend asked 
 the mayor if the dungeon might be cleansed, but 
 his petition was refused, and he was placed in the 
 stocks. In hot weather the captives found it difficult 
 to breathe, and in cold weather they had not space 
 enough to use exercise in order to warm themselves. 
 Here Humphry Smith was confined for fourteen 
 weeks. 
 
 One day, two men from the country, who were 
 passing by with their teams, asked why the Friends 
 were kept in prison ; the gaoler induced them to 
 enter, then locked them in, and refused to open the 
 door until some money had been given him. Two 
 Friends, named Margaret Newby and Elizabeth 
 Quorte, after holding a meeting at Evesham in a 
 private house, visited some of their captive fellow- 
 believers. The mayor ordered that they should be 
 seized and put into stocks, which were so constructed 
 as to cause great suffering by only an hour's confine- 
 ment ; but at his request they were kept in them, 
 
HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. 173 
 
 during a freezing night, for fifteen hours. " I have 
 thought," says Humphry Smith, " that Paul's forty 
 Stripes save one were not so bad." Of course he 
 could but keenly feel the barbarity and injustice of 
 the cruelty to which his brethren and himself were 
 subjected, and at times he gave expression to his 
 righteous indignation in very strong language. 
 it was the sin, not the sinner, that he hated. Con- 
 cerning the persecutors, he writes : — " Had the Lord 
 left us where they are, then might we have been this 
 day as ignorant of the way of peace towards enemies, 
 and of the path of innocency and righteousness as 
 they. The God of Heaven forgive them, and defend 
 us ! . . . A remnant He hath whose hearts He en- 
 largeth with prayer, and some of them with strong 
 inward desires and groans, and some with utterance 
 to declare the goodwill of God unto others in your 
 assemblies, and some steadfastly to believe in God 
 that He will never leave us — and all this ascends up 
 before the Lord as one sacrifice. ... Oh ! how shall 
 He forget us now we are His people, and are pur- 
 chased with a ransom more precious than all the 
 gold in the world ? " Again, he says : — " Behold 
 the goodness of God is unutterable ! Yea I have not 
 words to express it ; and such that feel it may taste 
 of it, and drink of the fulness thereof, beyond the 
 narrowness of my broken speech ; and let such draw 
 near unto me, ... for my heart is filled with love, 
 and my dwelling is enlarged with boundless borders 
 of peace. . . . And if the will of God should be so 
 that my body suffer in this close unsavoury prison at 
 Winchester many more months or several years 
 
174 HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. 
 
 longer, yet shall the Lord be my God for ever, and 
 my rest unto the end of troubles." 
 
 The Parliament convoked by Cromwell in 1656 
 passed an Act against vagrants. As this term in- 
 cluded all persons who when absent from home could 
 give no satisfactory account of their business, cruel 
 advantage was taken of the measure by many magis- 
 trates, who were but too ready to lay hands on those 
 who were travelling at their own expense to preach 
 the Gospel. Soon Humphry Smith and another 
 Friend, when riding together near Axminster, were 
 arrested and carried before a justice of the peace, 
 who, after consultation with a clergyman, ordered 
 them to be whipped ; their books and papers were 
 burnt, and their money was taken from them. 
 
 In 1658, two years before the accession of Charles 
 II., whilst Humphry Smith was confined, as he says, 
 " in a filthy prison and place unfit for men, at Win- 
 chester," he wrote his "Just Complaint of the 
 Afflicted against the Rulers who oppress the Inno- 
 cent," a prophetic warning to the persecuting magis- 
 trates, in which he tells them that his eyes have been 
 filled with tears and his heart with sorrow because of 
 the woes which awaited them. From the same place 
 he wrote an epistle to his fellow-sufferers in Ailsbury 
 Gaol. In it he remarks : — 
 
 "When I have beheld the plants of the garden of God 
 in their fresh, green, growing, flourishing, united state, 
 my heart hath often been refreshed. Then hath my life 
 sounded forth the precious praises of the Almighty in 
 the assemblies of the upright ; and my heart, broken 
 therewith in the delightsome love, hath poured forth 
 thanksgiving with tenderness and tears in secret. . . . 
 
HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. I75 
 
 Dear lambs of the fold of Heaven, my heart and soul 
 salutes you, my love is dear unto you, my life hath long 
 reached out itself towards you. . . . How shall I salute 
 you in that which cannot be declared ? Behold ! I may 
 become as a babe herein, and be silent as a child yet 
 learning utterance ; lest in reaching forth of my strength 
 I should signify my weakness to unfold the undeclarable 
 infiniteness of the virtue, wisdom, meekness, life, and 
 love — from the measure whereof my simple words most 
 certainly do at present proceed — as some few will surely 
 perceive, who yet daily yearn after a fuller enjoyment of 
 God and the increase and preservation of His precious 
 Truth. . . . Behold the God of Heaven is my refuge, 
 and the daily incomes of that which doth truly comfort 
 is as marrow to my bones ; yea the Lord hath prolonged 
 my days, enlarged my borders, and beautified the place 
 of my dwelling ! . . . Let not your hearts be sad, neither 
 be ye discouraged by reason of anything that the Lord 
 suffereth to come to pass, who in His secret wisdom 
 bringeth forth good unto such, who in all conditions and 
 under all trials do truly love and cleave unto the Lord 
 their strength." 
 
 In 1660 Humphry Smith had a remarkable vision 
 with regard to the destruction of the City of London, 
 which he published the same year as a warning-call 
 to repentance. It will be remembered that the Great 
 Fire occurred six years later. During the interval 
 Humphry Smith died. *' As for the city herself," he 
 writes, " and her suburbs, and all that belonged to 
 her, a fire was kindled therein. . . . And the fire con- 
 sumed foundations, and the tall buildings fell, and it 
 consumed all the lofty therein, and thus she became 
 a desolation. . . . And the vision hereof remained in 
 me as a thing that was secretly shewed me of the 
 Lord. ... My counsel is therefore that thou fear 
 the Lord and turn from the way that thou art in. 
 
176 HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. 
 
 Let all thy inhabitants, O, thou great City ! from the 
 highest to the lowest, take good heed unto their 
 ways." It was also in 1660 that Humphry Smith 
 wrote his address "To the Great Flock of the Im- 
 prisoned Servants of God Almighty." Some extracts 
 follow : — 
 
 " This we are most assuredly assured of that the Lord 
 is become ours, yea even our oivn, and we have a part in 
 Him, and He hath bought us with the price of that which 
 puts away sin* . . . When I enter into the chambers 
 of secrecy where the hidden wisdom is treasured up, I 
 have been even ready to shut up all the outgoings and 
 to dwell where the unutterable treasures are treasured 
 up abundantly for ever, and say in my heart unto the yet 
 scattered ones, Oh ! that ye would come and see my 
 dwelling, and find out my resting-place, and abide in 
 the beautiful habitation, and rest in the munition of rocks. 
 . . . Were I in one day bereaved of all, yet enjoying the 
 the Lord and His presence, so should it be well with me, 
 and so may it be well with you. . . . He knoweth our 
 intents. He hath given many of us an heart to say, 
 * Lord, if Thou shouldst suffer us to perish, we will not 
 leave Thee ; and whatever becomes of us we dare not 
 deny Thee,' Let your eyes be more upon the Lord than 
 upon those things which in this day of trial are suffered 
 to come to pass by Him. . . . And, Friends, let not the 
 enemy prevail through unbelief; there is no greater 
 danger than that of unbelief You have a spiritual enemy 
 •to war with which flies not but as he is resisted ; and in 
 the time of your weakness and inward trouble is his time 
 to prevail if ever; and if thou canst stand then, full easy 
 mayst thou walk when refreshings come. . , . And 
 this know that a storm lasteth but for a time, and 
 winter is but for a season, and the night remains not 
 always." 
 
 * " Assurance (says an old divine) is the reward of exact 
 walking." 
 
HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. 177 
 
 How many a struggling, sinking heart must have 
 been upheld and reanimated by these efforts of Hum- 
 phry Smith to draw out his soul to the hungry, and 
 to comfort the sorrowful with the comfort wherewith 
 he was comforted of God ; and, thus giving the cup 
 of cold water to others, it is evident that he in no 
 wise lost his reward, but that his own soul was as a 
 well of water whose waters fail not. A controversial 
 pamphlet of Humphry Smith's, "The Wandering 
 Star discovered," is a reply to a book entitled, " The 
 Quaker's Blazing Star," by a clergyman named 
 Edmund Skipp, who resided at Bodenham. As Hum- 
 phry Smith, in an early part of it, states his in- 
 tention of " laying open some of the former and yet 
 lived-in deceits of this open enemy, and also some of 
 his lies which he hath written against the Truth of 
 Christ," the reader's mind is prepared for its style, 
 thoroughly characteristic of the age. But we find 
 that ** a tender letter in love to his soul " was also 
 written ; and in the latter part of the pamphlet, 
 Humphry Smith says, " Now I charge thee, in the 
 presence of the living God in as much love to thy 
 soul as ever, that thou return to the light of Christ • 
 in thy own conscience. I tell thee, man, in love, 
 there is something yet in thee which will witness me 
 to be true." 
 
 It seems that Edmund Skipp had some time earlier 
 been convinced of the rectitude of many of the views 
 held by Friends. At one time he had acknowledged 
 that for two years he had been acting in opposition 
 to his conscience with regard to tithes, and yet, 
 though admitting that he groaned under the burden 
 
178 HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. 
 
 of them, said that he meant to receive them for 
 another year. But Humphry Smith had, as he says, 
 thoughts to the contrary, and plainly expressed this 
 opinion to the clergyman, whom he met at a private 
 house. On the following Sabbath he sent his man 
 to Humphry Smith with these few lines : " Brother 
 Smith, the Lord hath done a strange work in me 
 this morning, and I shall alter strangely this day ; 
 therefore pray earnestly for me, and make what haste 
 thou canst to come unto me." Once or twice he 
 had told his whole congregation that he had '' long 
 spoken after the manner of men, but now they must 
 expect no more such from him ; that now he should 
 wait to pray in the Spirit and speak by the Spirit." 
 For a time he gave up receiving tithes, and even 
 entertained the thought of resigning the glebe-land 
 and building on his own. But he confessed to Hum- 
 phry Smith that he had not faith enough to carry 
 his convictions into effect, and was " confident that 
 the devil would steal all from him again." 
 
 In Humphry Smith's pamphlet, " Hidden things 
 made manifest," he remarks : " There are many that 
 are now come to peace, dominion, and the land of 
 Rest, who did once know the judgments of God upon 
 Cain's nature, which then cried out that his punish- 
 ment was too heavy to bear . . . and yet have they 
 not started aside like a broken bow, neither have they 
 suffered unbelief to prevail, but in love to Him who was 
 made a curse, in patience have endured. . . . Those 
 come to know that notwithstanding the Law must 
 be received, yet by the works thereof no flesh shall 
 be justified, but by the obedience of faith towards 
 
HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. 179 
 
 God in the Blood of His Son, by which all that is 
 done away which transgressed the law ; and so not 
 of works, nor of merits, but of faith and love is the 
 law fulfilled." 
 
 In the latter part of 1661, Humphry Smith told 
 the Friends whom he had been visiting in the neigh- 
 bourhood of London, that he had a narrow path to 
 pass through, and foresaw that he should be im- 
 prisoned, and that it might cost him his life. Then, 
 having taken leave of them, he set forward, we learn, 
 "in the will of the Lord westward." Bonds and 
 afflictions he knew awaited him, but God was with 
 him and taught him to fear none of those things 
 'which he should suffer. In his bold address to 
 Judges and Rulers, called, " The voice of God's 
 Mighty Power," he says, "Your long tyranny will 
 never weary out the patience we have received, 
 neither can you inflict more punishment than the 
 Lord has enabled us to bear. And as you are filled 
 and moved with envy, we are much more filled and 
 overcome with the power of the Father's Life. We 
 have given up our bodies and souls a living sacrifice 
 unto God, to do or suffer His will. And him that 
 kills the body we fear not, much less those that can 
 but whip or imprison for a few months ; for our Life 
 yon cannot reach ; neither can you disturb their rest 
 whom the Lord hath crowned with honour, who out 
 of the world are redeemed and bought with the price 
 of blood most precious." 
 
 . When on his way to visit his son, he held a meet- 
 ing at Alton, after which armed men were sent to the 
 house where he was staying, who arrested him and 
 
i8q HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. 
 
 took him to the Deputy-Lieutenant of the county, by 
 whom he was committed as a " Ringleader and one of 
 the chief of the Quakers," to Winchester Gaol, of the 
 state of which his own strong adjectives have already 
 given a slight conception. His pockets and boxes 
 were rifled of papers, and the felons who were his 
 companions sometimes took his food from him and 
 abused him in other ways ; yet his fellow-prisoner^ 
 Nicholas Complin, states that he was ''very quiet, 
 and lay down content." But knowing how illegal' 
 his imprisonment was, he wrote an answer to the 
 mittimus. At the next Sessions he laid his cause 
 before the justices, but unavailingly. When told 
 by Judge Terril at the Assizes that he should be' 
 released if he would hold no more meetings, he of 
 course declined to accept freedom on such terms. As 
 the judge was leaving the court, Humphry Smith, 
 who was at the bar among the felons, said to him : 
 " Friend, remember I have been a whole year in 
 prison and no breach of any law proved against mo^" 
 A little later he was attacked by the illness which^ 
 after a while, terminated his life, and which his close 
 and cruel confinement would sufficiently account for. 
 About two months before his death, he wrote a piece 
 entitled. " One Hundred and Forty-four lines of 
 secret, inward Melody and Praise to the Lord," the 
 style of which is shown by the following stanza: — 
 
 *' Behold His glory shines unto His jewels rare, 
 He visits them betimes, when they in darkness are. 
 Behold His heart is bent towards His little ones ; 
 His love their hearts hath rent, and in His virtue comes." 
 
 But the last time in which the use of his pen is 
 
HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. l8l 
 
 recorded, is on the occasion of his writing a letter to 
 his " nearly-related friend Elizabeth Smith, of Little 
 Cawerne." A few extracts will give an idea of its 
 -character : — 
 
 "My strength, life, and refuge,' alone is He whose 
 service I have no cause to decline, and whose precious, 
 powerful call, He never gave me cause to repent. Oh ! 
 that I could now sufficiently declare His goodness, as the 
 Lord hath given unto my heart to desire of Him to be 
 made use of, in the declaration or manifestation thereof in 
 this my day unto the sons and children of men. Surely 
 when I am writing of Him, and of His unutterable good- 
 ness and power, my words and lines are all so short of 
 setting forth the virtue and fulness of the most unex- 
 pressible divine excellency thereof, that sometimes I am 
 rather ready to dwell in silence with and in the fulness 
 thereof — which overcomes with unutterable virtue — than 
 to be writing of that which in itself can never be writ- 
 ten ; though what is written, may be by, and with, and 
 from, the overflowings of the same ; and so be as 
 drops or little streams of heavenly water to refresh the 
 dry and thirsty land. Yea, He is certainly mine, and I 
 am His; and my soul doth magnify Him, and my spirit 
 •doth yet breathe farther to sound forth His praises — not 
 only all the days of my life, whilst in this earthly taber- 
 nacle, but likewise in the hearts of thousands of them yet 
 unborn^ by tny faithful upright testimony^ and the record 
 thereof which may remain when the God and Father of 
 my life hath gathered me, with the rest of His servants 
 of old, to live with Him in the delightsome Ocean of the 
 Infinite Fulness, the streams whereof already are as the 
 free issuings forth of Life Eternal. . . . And this is that 
 thou and others may hear from me, and know that 
 I remain in the service of God, and in faithful long-, 
 sufferings for the Gospel of His Son as at this day, being 
 the 6th of the Seventh Month, 1662. In the straight 
 prison of Winchester, where I am known by this name, 
 Humphry Smith." 
 
 This form of signature was a favourite one of his. 
 
l82 HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. 
 
 Possessing as he did the " new name which no man 
 knoweth saving he that receiveth it " * (Rev. ii. 17) 
 that which he bore amongst his fellow-men appeared 
 to him of but little importance. This letter recalls a 
 striking passage of an earlier date : " Shall we not be 
 contented if the Lord should suffer us to be deprived 
 of all things but Himself, that we might have none 
 other thing to have union with, but only Him alone ? 
 Surely this would be His love, and great would be the 
 unity between stick and Him!'' Do not these last 
 words reveal the secret source of the holy constancy 
 of many to whom " it is given in the behalf of Christ 
 not only to believe on Him, but also to suffer for His 
 sake," — probably including some 
 
 "Who little dream 
 Their daily strife an angel's theme, 
 Or that the cross they take so calm 
 Shall prove, in Heaven, a martyr's palm." 
 
 It was about three weeks after the Assizes that 
 Humphry Smith became ill with ague, soon followed 
 by violent fever. He sent a letter to Judge Terril 
 informing him of the severity of his malady, yet little 
 was done to ameliorate his condition. No doubt the 
 extreme hardships and cruelty of which he had so 
 frequently been the victim had left him but little 
 rallying power; but even a vigorous constitution 
 
 * Dean Alford thus comments on this text : — " It is a revelation 
 to a man of his everlasting title, as a son of God, to glory in Christ, 
 but consisting of, and revealed in, those personal marks and signs of 
 God's peculiar adoption of himself^ which he, and none else, is 
 acquainted with." 
 
HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. 183 
 
 would surely have found it hard to resist the pros- 
 trating influence of fever in that pestilential place. 
 More than one of his friends, the sharers of this im- 
 prisonment, bear witness that no suffering could wring 
 from those patient lips " one unsavoury word." He 
 was given up to the will of the Lord, either in life or 
 death, he said; but patience had had her perfect 
 work, and he who, even in the midst of great tribu- 
 lation, had so often realised fulness of joy in the 
 presence of the Lord, was soon to behold the King 
 in His beauty ; 
 
 " And he may smile at troubles gone 
 Who sets the victor-garland on ! " 
 
 He remarked that his heart was filled with the 
 power of God ; and was heard to say, " Lord, Thou 
 sentest me forth to do Thy will, and I have been 
 faithful to Thee in my small measure." A short time 
 before his death he poured out his soul in prayer that 
 the Lord would deliver His people from their enemies, 
 and would Himself be the Teacher of those to whose 
 souls he had been made a blessing. " O Lord hear 
 the inward sighs and groans of the oppressed and 
 deliver my poor soul from the oppressor. O Lord, 
 hear me. O Lord, uphold and preserve me. I know 
 that my Redeemer liveth. Thou art strong and 
 mighty, O Lord." To the last his mind was un- 
 clouded. He died in 1663. 
 
 As we lay down the records of the lives of those 
 who, having wholly consecrated their hearts to Christ, 
 feared not that He would suffer their faith to fail ; 
 and, undaunted by dangers and difficulties innume- 
 
184 HUMPHRY SMITH AND HIS WORKS. 
 
 rable, carried out to the utmost their belief of the re- 
 quirements of a Christian profession — shall we not 
 do well to remember that Christianity cannot be 
 THUS practised in any age without making what has 
 been termed "a tremendous innovation on this work- 
 a-day world " ? 
 
 *' Breathe on us for the passing day 
 
 The powers of ancient story ; 
 Then we with joyful heart shall say, 
 
 Though Wisdom's head be hoary 
 His heart is fresh, undimmed his eyes ; 
 And in the old we must be wise, 
 
 If we would win new glory." 
 
i85 
 
 MARY FISHER AND HER FRIENDS. 
 
 " The practical Christian life in the individual, is it not more the 
 result of direct spiritual influence than of any letter, or rule, or law? 
 Is it not emphatically the product of a Divine Power on the heart — 
 of the operation of the Holy Ghost ? . . . . The transforming power 
 of the Gospel lies .... in a sympathy of man's spirit with the 
 Spirit of Christ, by which the Gospel becomes to man not merely a 
 new demand of duty but a new endowment of power, and a law 
 which he can fulfil through love." — Myers^ Catholic Thoughts on the 
 Bible and Theology. 
 
 It was on a spring-day in the year 1656 that the 
 good ship Swallow sailed into Massachusetts Bay. 
 Her arrival caused no small consternation, and the 
 Deputy-Governor, Bellingham, deemed it needful to 
 summon a Special Council. This alarm was caused 
 by the rumour that Simon Kempthorn, the " master " 
 of the Swallow, had brought into the jurisdiction two 
 very dangerous heretics who had come with the 
 express purpose of propagating their blasphemous 
 errors. They were English women, named Anne 
 Austin and Mary Fisher, the former an elderly 
 matron, the latter unmarried and about the age of 
 thirty-two. The Governor being absent, Bellingham 
 gave orders that they should be held in custody 
 on board the ship, and that their boxes should be 
 searched. About a hundred books were taken from 
 them, which the Council deliberately decreed should 
 be " forthwith burned and destroyed by the common 
 executioner " ! 
 
l86 MARY FISHER AND HER FRIENDS. 
 
 Their next edict was to the effect that the " said 
 Anne and Mary " should be kept in close confinement, 
 no one being allowed to have communication with 
 them without leave, until they were sent out of 
 the country. Simon Kempthorn was enjoined to 
 " speedily and directly " transport them to Barbadoes 
 whence they came, and to discharge all the expenses 
 of their imprisonment. If he refused to give security 
 for the effectual carrying out of these orders he was to 
 be committed to prison. The magistrates moreover 
 threatened to inflict a penalty of ^5 on any person 
 who should expose himself to the contaminating in- 
 fluence of the strangers by conversing with them 
 through the window of Boston Gaol, which, for the 
 sake of still greater security, was afterwards boarded 
 up. The prisoners were deprived of their writing 
 materials, and forbidden the use of a candle. So 
 little food was allowed them that Nicholas Upsal, an 
 /^ old inhabitant and "freeman" of the city, fearing 
 that they might be starved, paid the gaoler for per- 
 mission to send them provisions ; and at one time 
 their lives were imperilled from the cry of witchcraft. 
 At the end of five weeks they were banished from 
 Boston and sent back to Barbadoes, the captain of 
 the vessel being bound, under a penalty of ;f 100, to 
 convey them thither without allowing them to land 
 anywhere in New England, nor to have any inter- 
 course with the inhabitants of that country. When, 
 on returning to Boston, Endicott, the Governor, 
 heard of these proceedings, he said, " If I had been 
 present I would have had them well whipt." Ample 
 opportunities, however, for the infliction of barbarous 
 
MARY FISHER AND HER FRIENDS. 187 
 
 scourgings on others also guilty of being Quakers 
 were soon forthcoming, for scarcely had Anne Austin 
 and Mary Fisher sailed from the shores of Massa- 
 chusetts, before the arrival of the Woodhouse from 
 London, with eight Friends on board,* of whom 
 Francis Howgill thus quaintly writes : — *' Four from 
 London and four from Bristol are gone towards New 
 England ; pretty hearts ; the blessing of the Lord is 
 with them, and His dread goes before them." 
 
 Anne Austin and Mary P'isher were the first Friends 
 who visited the New World with the hope of making v/ 
 known the doctrines of Friends. The former is 
 described as being at this time '* stricken in years," 
 and the mother of five children. Her home was, 
 apparently, in London. Persecution was again her 
 lot after her return to her native land, and in 1659 
 she was imprisoned in one of the loathsome London 
 gaols for preaching in the religious assemblies of her 
 own Socifety. She died of the plague in 1665, and 
 was interred at Bunhill Fields Burial-ground. From 
 Barbadoes, where Anne Austin and Mary Fisher 
 first landed, the latter wrote a letter to George Fox 
 which bears evidence of being written in the days 
 when ** spelling was a matter of private opinion." 
 
 The name under which she addresses him is very 
 suggestive ; since 
 
 " Whoe'er hath fanned the flickering torch of faith, 
 Or bade the mists of fear and doubt retire ; 
 Or nerved our souls to meet the approach of death — 
 To him we give the endearing name o( Sire.'' 
 
 She writes : — ** My deare father . . . let me not be 
 
 • See next sketch. 
 
l88 MARY FISHER AND HER FRIENDS. 
 
 forgotten by thee, but lett thy prayers be for me that 
 I may continnue faithful to the end if any of our 
 friendes be free to come over they may be servisable 
 here is many convinsed, and many desire to know the 
 way ; so I rest Mary Ffisher." • 
 
 Mary Fisher was born in the North of England, 
 and at the time when she became a Friend her home, 
 it seems, was at Pontefract. The three years before 
 her western voyage had been much devoted to the 
 ministry of the Gospel, in the intervals left by frequent 
 imprisonments, and no small share of suffering had 
 been her lot. For sixteen months she had been con- 
 fined in York Castle ; almost as soon as liberty was 
 restored to her she visited the south-eastern counties 
 with a Friend named Elizabeth Williams, who was 
 also a minister. At Cambridge they " discoursed 
 about the things of God " with the young collegians, 
 and preached at the gate of Sidney College. But 
 soon the mayor gave orders that they should be taken 
 to the Market Cross and "whipped until the blood 
 ran down their bodies." No Friend had hitherto 
 been publicly scourged, and the assembled crowd 
 marvelled at the patient fortitude of the sufferers 
 when this command was executed with barbarous 
 severity ; and still more at the Christ-like spirit they 
 manifested by their prayers that their persecutors 
 might be forgiven. " This is but the beginning of 
 the sufferings of the people of God ! " Mary Fisher 
 afterwards remarked. 
 
 A second imprisonment in York Castle, this time 
 for six months, soon followed, and was shortly sue- 
 
MARY FISHER AND HER FRIENDS. 189 
 
 ceeded by one of three months' duration. In Buck- 
 inghamshire she was imprisoned for the offence of 
 ** giving Christian exhortations to the priest and 
 people." She possessed much intellectual power, 
 and, dedicated as it was to the service of Him who 
 enabled her to speak as one having authority, it is 
 not difficult to imagine that she was regarded as a 
 formidable foe ; especially when she dwelt on such 
 unpalatable themes as the freedom of the Gospel 
 ministry and the disuse of religious ceremonies. 
 Henr}' Fell, who met with her in Barbadoes on her 
 return from New England, says in a letter to Mar- 
 garet Fell, "Truly Mary Fisher is a precious heart, 
 and hath been very serviceable here." 
 
 She paid a subsequent visit to the West Indies, 
 but her name is chiefly associated with her journey 
 to the east, undertaken from the conviction that it 
 was her duty to seek for a religious interview with 
 the Sultan Mahomet IV. Although only eighteen 
 years of age, he was at the height of his power, and 
 Turkey was viewed with dismay by the nations of 
 Christendom. 
 
 " The Sultan dreamed of boundless power 
 
 To wield the conquering sword. 
 And make the unbelievers own 
 
 The prophet of the Lord : 
 To fling the banner of His faith 
 
 O'er Islam's ancient reign. 
 Above the valleys of Castile, 
 
 The mountain heights of Spain ; 
 In the great temple of the Cross 
 
 Marshal his Moslem force. 
 And make its sacred fane at Rome 
 
 * A stable for his horse ! ' " 
 
190 MARY FISHER AND HER FRIENDS. 
 
 "This English maiden," writes Gerard Croese, 
 " would not be at rest before she went in person to 
 the great Emperor of the Turks, and informed him 
 concerning the errors of his religion and the truth of 
 hers ! " Having visited Italy, Zante, and Corinth, she 
 arrived at Smyrna. The English consul there, when 
 he learnt her intention — not recognising her heavenly 
 commission — very naturally advised her " by all 
 means to forbear " ; and when he found that his warn- 
 ings were wholly unheeded, and that no milder 
 measures would avail — recoiling from the idea that a 
 woman should expose herself to such a perilous 
 ^_ journey and hazard the unrelenting cruelty of oriental 
 ( despotism — he placed her on board a vessel which was 
 ■' bound for Venice, giving orders that she should be 
 
 conveyed thither. 
 ) But Mary Fisher was not to be so easily withheld 
 from her holy errand. She induced the captain to 
 land her on the Morea, and, 
 
 " Bearing God's message in her heart, 
 Her life within her hand," 
 
 alone, knowing neither the route nor the language, 
 she travelled on foot along the Grecian coast, through 
 Macedonia, and over the mountains of Thrace, until 
 she at length reached the beautiful plain, watered by 
 the wide Maritza, on which Adrianople stands. Here 
 the Sultan was encamped with so great an army and 
 retinue, that even that spacious tract of land seemed 
 barely large enough for them. Even now a less 
 steadfast faith would have wavered, for how was an 
 abhorred Christian to gain access to the Moham- 
 
MARY FISHER AND HER FRIENDS. igi 
 
 medan monarch — " Shadow of God," as he was at 
 times entitled ? Having told her errand to some of 
 the citizens, she asked them to bear her company to 
 the royal camp ; but their dread of their Sultan's dis- 
 pleasure forbade them to yield to such a request. So 
 alone — yet not alone — 
 
 ** In the still temple of her soul, 
 Communing with her God,"' 
 
 she went hither, and thither, until her diligent quest 
 was rewarded by finding some one who was bold 
 enough to speak to the Grand Vizier, Achmet Bassa, 
 on her behalf. Through him the Sultan was informed 
 of the arrival of an English woman who had *' some- 
 thing to declare to him from the great God " ; and 
 she was told that she might have an interview with 
 him on the following morning. 
 
 Spending the night in the city she went back to 
 the camp at the appointed hour, where the Sultan 
 awaited her, surrounded by his chief officers, as was 
 his wont when giving receptions to ambassadors. 
 By one of the three interpreters who were present, 
 he asked her whether it was true that she had a mes- 
 sage from the Lord God ? On her answering affir- 
 matively, he bade her '' Speak on." Waiting for the 
 summons of her Lord she did not at once address 
 him, which led him to inquire whether it were her 
 wish that any of the company should withdraw be- 
 fore she spoke ? When she replied that she did not 
 desire this, he told her to speak the word of the Lord 
 without fear, since they had " good hearts " to hear 
 it ; strictly enjoining her, moreover, to say neither 
 more nor less than the word she had from the Lord, 
 
192 MARY FISHER AND HER FRIENDS. 
 
 since they were willing to hear it, be it what it might. 
 With great gravity the whole assembly gave heed to 
 her earnest ministry, and when she became silent 
 the Sultan asked if there were nothing more she 
 would like to say ? When she inquired whether he 
 had understood her, he answered, " Yea every word, 
 and it is truth ! " He then expressed his desire that 
 she should remain in his dominions, and when she 
 declined this proposal, offered her a guard to escort 
 her to Constantinople, as he would be greatly grieved 
 if any harm should befall her in his empire. But she 
 courteously refused this offer, trusting in the Lord 
 alone. 
 
 May we not hope that one who had, for the 
 moment, ignored the great national contest between 
 the Crescent and the Cross, and — far beyond this — laid 
 aside the prejudices of the exacting faith of his fathers 
 in his readiness to hear "the word of the Lord," 
 albeit from the lips of a woman — was sustained by 
 Him when some thirty years later he lay dying in 
 prison? His abdication was demanded by the Turkish 
 soldiers after the dreadful and unsuccessful siege of 
 Vienna. Certainly his conduct stands out in strange 
 contrast to that of the professing Christians of 
 ^Boston, who would no doubt have despised him as 
 an infidel.* Mary Fisher arrived at Constantinople, 
 we learn, " without the least hurt or scoff," and 
 finally reached England in safety. 
 
 * " In this town 
 They put sea-captains in the stocks for swearing, 
 And Quakers for not swearing." 
 
 — Longfellow's New England Tragedies. 
 
MARY FISHER AND HER FRIENDS. I93 
 
 Not long after her return from her oriental journey 
 Ma.ry Fisher was married to a sea-captain named 
 William Bayley, well known in the Society of Friends 
 as a powerful preacher and writer. He had once been 
 a Baptist minister at Poole, in Dorsetshire ; but in 
 1655 — the year in which Mary Fisher set sail for the 
 Western world — that place was visited by George Fox, 
 whose ministry led him to become a Friend. It seems 
 that he had previously longed for deeper spiritual in- 
 struction, and had vainly sought for it in a careful 
 .perusal of the works of Jacob Behmen, from whose 
 *' reveries and rhapsodies " it must have been a relief 
 to turn to the pure elevated spirituality of Christianity 
 as pourtrayed by George Fox, whose aim was, as he 
 himself said, " with and by the Divine Spirit of 
 God, to bring people off from all their own ways to 
 Christ the new and living Way ; and from their 
 churches, which men had made and gathered, to the 
 Church in God, the general assembly written in heaven 
 which Christ is the head of ; and off from the world's 
 teachers to learn of Christ." 
 
 Persecution was soon William Bayley's portion. 
 In 1656 he was committed to Exeter Gaol in con- 
 sequence of the unfair use often made, in that day, of 
 the law against vagrants by magistrates who chose 
 to apply it to Friends who were travelling to preach. 
 In the following year, when in Hampshire, he was 
 imprisoned with some other Friends, by a mittimus 
 which falsely stated that they were accused of several 
 offences. A few years later he made one of a group 
 of Friends who, when quietly standing in the street 
 near the Bull and Mouth Meeting-house in London, 
 
 o 
 
194 MARY FISHER AND HER FRIENDS. 
 
 were arrested by some soldiers and taken before that 
 notorious persecutor of the Friends, Alderman Brown. 
 He ordered that their hats should be removed, and 
 repeatedly struck William Bayley with his fist. But 
 William Bayley's wife was with him, and patiently 
 as she had been wont to bear persecution herself, she 
 now reproved the magistrate for his violence to her 
 husband ; whereupon he struck her also and threw 
 her on the ground — William Bayley's remonstrances 
 with respect to such treatment of a woman only caus- 
 ing a repetition of it. Then, without the least pre- 
 text for such a step, he bade his servant and some 
 other men take William Bayley to Newgate. 
 
 Twelve months later he was arrested at a meeting 
 at King's Langley, and committed to Hertford Gaol, 
 where — having refused at the Quarter Sessions to 
 take the Oath of Allegiance — he was retained a pri- 
 soner for some years. His remarkable warning to 
 Charles II. and his parliament was written from 
 Hertford in the latter part of 1664, when, as the 
 event proved, the war with the Dutch, the Plague, 
 and the great Fire, were not far distant. Brief ex- 
 tracts from this lengthy document follow : — 
 
 " But what shall I say unto you ? If ye will not 
 believe our faithful testimony (or the testimony of 
 God through us) and the innocency of our cause and 
 sufferings, neither will ye believe if one should rise 
 from the dead and declare it unto you. For many 
 tender visitations and timely warnings and gentle 
 reprehensions have you had from the pure Spirit of 
 the Lord God. . . . And as for my part, who am 
 one of the least of the thousands of Israel, I could 
 
MARY FISHER AND HER FRIENDS. 195 
 
 willingly have been silent as towards you at this time, 
 but the Lord hath laid it upon me to warn you, once 
 more, for whose sakes I have borne a burden. . . . 
 The more you strive with the Lord and oppress His 
 people, the more will they multiply and grow stronger 
 and stronger ; and you shall wax weaker and weaker ; 
 for life and immortality is risen, and the power of 
 God is risen in the hearts of thousands. 
 
 " I tell you plainly that such fruits and doings 
 among you that profess yourselves Christians, have 
 made the very name of Christ and Christianity a 
 proverb of reproach through nations, and have caused 
 the God of heaven to be blasphemed. And how could 
 it be otherwise, seeing you, who profess the most 
 knowledge of God, and have talked of converting the 
 heathen (as some of your leaders have done), are 
 found the least in the life and fruits thereof? But to 
 what would they convert them ? . . . The very 
 heathen dr infidels, as ye call them, do judge and 
 condemn you concerning these your proceedings. . . . 
 Friends, tell me what ye have justly to charge against 
 this people (whom ye so furiously pursue, to the loss 
 of the lives of so many of them ; by which the chil- 
 dren are made fatherless, and tender-hearted women 
 mournful widows) ; and declare it abroad to the 
 whole world, and speak the truth, and nothing but 
 the truth ! . . . What is become of all your promises 
 of liberty for tender consciences ? God's curse and 
 vengeance will come upon you, and His plagues to 
 destruction will pursue you if ye proceed in this 
 work ; and your wives will be widows and your chil- 
 dren fatherless. The Lord hath spoken it ! . . . 
 
196 MARY FISHER AND HER FRIENDS. 
 
 *' God Almighty, cut short Thy work in Thy righte- 
 ousness, . . . and let the kings of the earth lay 
 down their crowns at the feet of the Lamb ; that 
 through Thy righteous judgments they may partake 
 of Thy tender mercies, which endure for ever ; that 
 their eyes may be no longer blinded by the god of 
 this world, but that they may come to see Thee who 
 art invisible, and enjoy the same precious life of pure 
 unfeigned love which abounds in the hearts of Thy 
 hidden ones ; and receive Thy peaceful wisdom to be 
 governed, and to govern therein ; then would they 
 surely know that we are Thine. . . . So, friends, ye 
 are, and have been, warned again by the faithful 
 servants of the Lord in love to your souls ; and you 
 are left without excuse, if words should never more 
 be mentioned unto you. . . . 
 
 " A lover of the welfare of all your souls, thus far 
 clear of all your blood. 
 
 "William Bayley." 
 
 William Bayley was present at Gracechurch Street 
 Meeting, one day in 1670, when an attempt was made 
 to bring a clergyman to officiate there ; the latter, 
 coming from an adjacent ale-house, approached the 
 meeting-house ; but, although protected by soldiers, 
 he did not like the idea of performing the task which 
 had been set him, and took the undignified course of 
 giving his escort the slip. The sergeant, running 
 after him, persuaded him to return ; but when he 
 reached the door of the meeting-house his heart once 
 more failed him, and he turned away. The soldiers, 
 however, entered ; and arresting William Bayley^ 
 
MARY FISHER AND HER FRIENDS. I97 
 
 Avho was preaching, carried him before the Lord 
 Mayor, who comr^itted him to Newgate for " abusing 
 the priest and disturbing him in his office " ! 
 
 Of violent outrage, as well as absolute injustice, 
 William Bayley was at times the victim. Not con- 
 tent with the infliction of blows, his persecutors on 
 one occasion stained the ground with his blood, as 
 they dragged him over it, wrenching open his mouth, 
 and wounding him in other ways. After trampling 
 -on him, in order to take away his breath, one of his 
 persecutors ordered the gaoler to " put him in some 
 nasty hole for his entertainment and cure." *' And," 
 remarks John Crook in his preface to William Bay- 
 ley's works, " had not the God of Israel been his 
 physician there, he had been taken from us long 
 before this." After alluding to his bold and zealous 
 ministry, his diligence in it, — and to his courageous 
 endurance of suffering, John Crook adds : " Methinks 
 how once 'I saw him stand at the bar to plead his 
 innocent cause (like Stephen) in the Senate-house, 
 when the threats of his persecutors, crying out with 
 a hideous noise, resembled the showers of stones 
 falling upon that blessed martyr; and yet all this 
 while he changed not his countenance, except by the 
 additional ornaments of some innocent smiles." 
 
 In a work jointly written by William Bayley and 
 John Crook, the following remarks occur: — " We do 
 in the sight of God really own the blood of the Son 
 of Man, . . . both as bespeaking the remission of 
 sin past, through faith in it, and as sprinkling the 
 conscience of true believers, and cleansing them 
 from all sin. ... By all which it is manifest ta 
 
ig8 MARY FISHER AND HER FRIENDS. 
 
 be of infinite value. . . . But becmise we testify that it 
 is not the hare^ historical , and literal belief of those things 
 that justifies or makes us really free from that wrath 
 which comes upon every soul of man that doeth evil ; but 
 only the life and virtue of this blood, received into the 
 heart by that living faith which Christ alone is author 
 of : therefore we are branded with slighting the blood of 
 the man Christ, &c. Though we testify that without the 
 life and virtue of this blood there is no remission.'" 
 
 During his occasional voyages it was William 
 Bayley's aim to avail himself of all suitable oppor- 
 tunities for ministerial service, and his labours were 
 not in vain. He died at sea in 1675, when on a 
 return voyage from Barbadoes. ^^ Death is nothing 
 in itself ,'' he said, "'for the sting of death is sin.* 
 Friends at London would have been glad to see my 
 face ; tell them I go to my Father and their Father, 
 to my God and their God. Remember my love to 
 my dear wife ; she will be a sorrowful widow ; but 
 let her not mourn in her sorrow, for it is well with 
 me. I have left my children no portions, but my 
 endeavour hath been to make God their Father. 
 Shall I lay down my head on the waters ? Well, 
 God is the God of the whole universe." 
 
 Mary Bayley subsequently became the wife of 
 John Cross, of London, and emigrated with him to 
 America. In 1697, when residing at Charlestown, 
 she gave a hospitable reception to her fellow-country- 
 man, Robert Barrow, whom she nursed in the illness 
 caused by the great hardships and privations which 
 he had undergone after his escape from shipwreck on 
 the coast of Florida. Early yielding his heart to the 
 
MARY FISHER AND HER FRIENDS. I99 
 
 Lord, Robert Barrow had for many years earnestly 
 laboured and patiently suffered for his Redeemer's 
 cause. After much diligent ministerial service in 
 Britain, in 1694 when old age was approaching, he 
 sailed from his native land with Robert Wardel, of 
 Sunderland, going forth "in the love of God" to 
 preach the Gospel in the New World. Strengthened 
 by Him these two aged ministers travelled through 
 nine provinces, in which they held 328 meetings, and 
 afterwards had much service in Antigua, the Ber- 
 mudas, and Jamaica. 
 
 In the latter island they suffered from the extreme 
 heat of the climate, and soon Robert Wardel was 
 attacked by the illness which, after a few days, ter- 
 minated his life. To the Friend who nursed him he 
 said, " The Lord reward thee for thy tender care ; it 
 makes me think of my dear wife. I know not whether 
 I may ever see her more, but, however, the will of 
 God be 'done. I am, and was, willing to be con- 
 tented with the will of God, whether life or death, 
 before I came hither." He exhorted the Friends who 
 came to see him to ^^ answer God's love in them.'' He 
 knew not what trials he was spared, and which were 
 to be the lot of his beloved companion during the 
 year that would elapse before he also reached his 
 heavenly home.* 
 
 Four months after the death of his friend, Robert 
 Barrow embarked for Pennsylvania on board the 
 Reformation^ with two Friends, named Jonathan and 
 
 • For the incident in Robert Wardel's boyhood which led to his 
 becoming a Friend, see " Sketch of William Edmundson." 
 
200 MARY FISHER AND HER FRIENDS. 
 
 Mary Dickenson, and their infant son ; one other 
 passenger, the captain, his negro crew, and some 
 negro servants made up the ship's company. One 
 night, whilst in the Gulf of Florida, they were driven 
 ashore in a great storm. When daylight came Jona- 
 than Dickenson succeeded in finding a nook with a 
 few bushes, among the dreary sandhills ; for shelter 
 was greatly needed from the violence of the wind and 
 rain, especially by Mary Dickenson, her ailing baby, 
 Robert Barrow, who had been ill, and the captain, 
 who had broken his leg a few days earlier. 
 
 Soon two very fierce-looking Indians made their 
 appearance, and on seeing the strangers rushed to- 
 wards them, literally foaming with fury, and armed 
 with long knives, with which they had been supplied 
 by the Spaniards ; they immediately seized the first 
 two men they met, who were carrying corn from the 
 wreck to the bank on which Jonathan Dickenson 
 stood. Some of the crew wished to get their guns 
 in order to shoot their assailants, but Jonathan Dick- 
 enson counselled them to put their trust in the Lord, 
 who was able to defend them to the uttermost, and 
 also pointed out the impolicy of the proposed mea- 
 sure. He told his wife and friends of the approach 
 of the Indians, and then the idea occurred to him of 
 offering the ferocious-looking strangers some pipes 
 and tobacco. Eagerly snatching them from him, and 
 sniffing the air like so many wild beasts, they turned 
 from him and ran away. 
 
 He rightly surmised that they had gone to fetch 
 their comrades, a crowd of whom soon arrived, run- 
 ning and shouting. The greater part of them set to 
 
MARY FISHER AND HER FRIENDS. 201 
 
 work to plunder the vessel, but about thirty, headed 
 by the Cassekay, their chief, and armed with knives, 
 fell upon the shipwrecked band, and with countenances 
 which betokened extreme ferocity, cried out " Nick- 
 aleer ? Nickaleer?" They had an especial hatred 
 of the English, and by this question tried to ascer- 
 tain if the strangers were of that nation. Some they 
 seized by the head, and, with outstretched arm and 
 knife in hand, seemed only to be waiting for the 
 Cassekay to begin the slaughter. Meanwhile most 
 of the little group, thus suddenly placed in the ut- 
 most peril, continued quietly sitting on their boxes 
 and trunks, or on the ground, some of them, as 
 Jonathan Dickenson records, in a good frame of 
 spirit, being freely given up to the will of God." 
 Deliverance was at hand. In a moment these savages 
 changed their demeanour and stood spell-bound, as 
 silent and almost as still as statues, for about a 
 quarter of an hour. Yet afterwards they not only 
 emptied the chests of their contents, but proceeded 
 to strip the owners of their clothing. 
 
 On coming again the next day, the chief addressed 
 the direct question ** Nickaleer? " to Robert Barrow, 
 who, avoiding the evasions as well as the false replies 
 of which some of the party had made use with respect 
 to their nationality, answered *' Yes." His clothes, 
 which had hitherto been left him, were now stripped 
 off. The Cassekay had a smattering of Spanish, and 
 the fact that Robert Barrow did not use that lan- 
 guage — which had been employed by one of the crew 
 — probably strengthened his suspicion that the white 
 men were of English birth. At midday the Indians, 
 
202 MARY FISHER AND HER FRIENDS. 
 
 having gathered together their plunder, loaded the 
 lawful owners with it, and, forming a guard around 
 them, summoned them to march to their village — a 
 toilsome journey, five miles in length, to be performed 
 barefoot, over deep sand and under a burning sun. 
 The captain, in consideration of his broken leg, was 
 allowed the aid of his negro Ben, but Mary Dickenson 
 was obliged to carry her baby herself ; for, whenever 
 any of her friends attempted to take it from her, they 
 were told they should be shot if they laid down the 
 load they already had. The wigwams being at length 
 reached, the captives were offered food, but fear de- 
 prived some of appetite, and others, although hungry, 
 were naturally disinclined to eat, because they thought 
 it highly probable that the Indians — of whose habits 
 they had heard — gave them food for the sake of after- 
 wards feeding themselves upon them. 
 
 On the following day their fears were increased by 
 the arrival of another band of natives, armed with 
 bows and arrows. That evening the aged Robert 
 Barrow addressed his fellow-sufferers with deep feel- 
 ing from the text, "Because thou hast kept the word 
 of my patience, I also will keep thee," &c., and after- 
 wards fervently besought the Lord that, if it were 
 consistent with His blessed will. He would deliver 
 them from a barbarous people ; that their names 
 might not be buried in oblivion, and that he might 
 lay down his body amongst his faithful friends. An 
 assurance was given him that this prayer would be 
 granted, and some of his companions also were 
 . " livingly refreshed and strengthened." 
 
 After spending five days at this place they were 
 
MARY FISHER AND HER FRIENDS. 20$ 
 
 allowed to depart, and directed their course towards 
 St. Augustine. The dangers and hardships they en- 
 countered during the following six or seven weeks are 
 far too numerous for record here. Three or four of 
 the negroes perished, being unable to endure the 
 wilderness journey, the perils by sea, the floods, the 
 scanty and loathsome food, and the excessive suffering 
 caused, in their unclothed and unsheltered condition, 
 by the biting blasts of the north-west wind, which 
 produced an extremely severe frost. At one time, 
 when the cold was so intense that the strongest of the 
 company doubted if they should outlive that day, it 
 was thought best that those who could make speed 
 should do so without waiting for others. Jonathan 
 Dickenson, of course, remained with his wife and 
 infant and Robert Barrow. The poor baby, although 
 black with cold from head to foot, " was not froward," 
 we are told. No doubt, unless it were absolutely 
 impossible, his mother devised some sort of wrap for 
 him, for the Indians had violently snatched off his 
 clothes, *' as though they would have shaken and 
 torn him limb from limb." 
 
 At length St. Augustine was reached, and a most 
 hospitable reception was given to the exhausted 
 travellers by the Governor, who provided them with 
 the food and clothing they so sorely needed ; and 
 when they set out for Carolina he furnished them 
 with an escort. On their embarkation, embracing 
 some of the company, he said, " You will forget me 
 when you get among your own nation ; but if you 
 forget me, God will not." Some weeks later Charles- 
 town was reached, and here Robert Barrow, in his 
 
204 MARY FISHER AND HER FRIENDS. 
 
 great weakness and weariness, became the guest of 
 Mary Cross. Writing from her house to his wife he 
 says, '' It pleased God I had the great fortune to 
 have a good nurse ; one whose name you have heard 
 of, a Yorkshire woman born within two miles of 
 York. Her maiden name was Mary Fisher — she 
 that spake to the great Turk — afterwards William 
 Bayley's wife. She is now my landlady and nurse." 
 After spending some time at her house, Robert 
 Barrow sailed with Jonathan Dickenson and his 
 family for Philadelphia, where Jonathan Dickenson 
 entered into business as a merchant. He was greatly 
 beloved and respected, and for some years filled the 
 office of Speaker in the Assembly, and was also 
 Chief Justice of Pennsylvania. 
 
 When, at eight o'clock one evening, the vessel 
 arrived at Philadelphia, several Friends came on 
 board to greet Robert Barrow and conduct him on 
 shore, but they found that he was too weak to be 
 removed that night. Yet it rejoiced his heart to see 
 them, and he spoke of how God had granted his 
 prayer that he might lay down his bones in that 
 place. His heart was strong (he said) and he hoped 
 to go to their meeting again : the Lord had been 
 very good to him, consoling him with His presence 
 in all his trials. On the following morning some 
 of the Friends from the city helped to bring the 
 vessel up to a wharf, and, wrapping Robert Barrow 
 in a blanket, carried him to the house of a Friend.* 
 
 * Samuel Carpenter, who (William Penn excepted) was considered 
 the most wealthy person in the province. During a previous 
 
MARY FISHER AND HER FRIENDS. 205 
 
 *' The Lord has been very good to me all along to 
 this very day," he remarked, " and this very morning 
 hath sweetly refreshed me." Two days later he 
 expired, after telling his friends that he had nothing 
 to do but to die. Very early that morning he had 
 asked a Friend who was with him to write to his 
 ** dear wife," to tell her of his travels, his arrival at 
 Philadelphia, and that the Lord was with him. 
 
 Mary Cross was now a widow, and about seventy- 
 three years of age. It would be interesting to trace 
 her history to the end, but apparently no particulars 
 of her last days have been left on record. It is 
 probable that she died in South Carolina, where 
 Sophia Hume, the grand-daughter of William Bayley ^ 
 and herself, was born. 
 
 Sophia Hume's father was not a Friend, and in, ^ 
 her early days she allowed herself to be much ab- 
 sorbed in empty worldly pleasures. Indeed half a 
 lifetime had passed away before she awoke to the 
 sense of the impossibility of being satisfied by such 
 aimless pursuits. Her judgment was first convinced 
 on this point, but it was not until she was about the 
 age of forty that she fully yielded her heart to her 
 Redeemer. Taking up " Barclay's Apology " one 
 day to search for some material for conversation, she 
 became too much interested in it to hastily lay it 
 
 residence in Barbadoes he had suffered much from distraints, and 
 in consequence of his conscientious objection to bearing arms. In 
 1693 he was made a Member of the Assembly, becoming, a few 
 years later, one of the Council, and, finally. Treasurer of Pennsyl- 
 vania. His benevolence, ability, and energy won him much love 
 and esteem. 
 
206 MARY FISHER AND HER FRIENDS. 
 
 down, and its perusal led to her joining the Society of 
 Friends, amongst whom she became a very remark- 
 able minister. In later life, when London had be- 
 come her residence, she felt it right to revisit her 
 native land, to declare what God had done for her 
 soul, and to call others away from those things 
 which had for so long a time ensnared her own soul, 
 but out of which she had been " brought and re- 
 deemed by the powerful hand of God." She died 
 when in her seventy-third year, and was interred in 
 the Bunhill Fields Burial-ground. 
 
 We have lately been reminded that " the faith that 
 lays hold of Christ for salvation receives Him both 
 as Saviour and King.''^ And as we turn from the lives 
 of any of our forefathers, who, " through faith ^ . . . 
 wrought righteousness, obtained promises, . . . out 
 of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, 
 turned to flight the armies of the aliens," — it may be 
 well for us to ponder over the words of a writer of 
 the day, who views the Society of Friends from an 
 outside standpoint, whilst we remember that if our 
 privileges are great the need for a faithful steward- 
 ship is but increased thereby : — " In its absolute recog- 
 nition of the sacredness of individual responsibility, 
 . . . above all in its intense recognition of a great 
 spiritual force — call it by what name you will — which 
 a man can lay hold of by faith and make his own, 
 Quakerism stands alone and unrivalled. ... St. 
 Theresa said when she set to work to found a much- 
 needed house of mercy with only three halfpence in 
 
 * Yearly Meeting Epistle, 1876. 
 
MARY FISHER AND HER FRIENDS. 207 
 
 her pocket, * Theresa and three halfpence can do 
 nothing ; but God and three halfpence can do all 
 things.' In this practical recognition of a great 
 ever-present spiritual force, the power of the Holy 
 Spirit, has not Quakerism still got much to teach 
 the Church at large, and, once learnt, might not 
 a new era dawn on Christianity ? " 
 
208 
 
 THE MARTYRS OF BOSTON AND THEIR 
 FRIENDS. 
 
 " The blood which makes the robes of martyrs white, is not their 
 own." — The Author of " The Schonherg Cotta Family^ 
 
 " What a God have the English, who deal so with 
 one another about their God ! " was the exclamation 
 of an Indian chief after oifering a " warm house " 
 to Nicholas Upsal who, notwithstanding the in- 
 firmities of old age, was exiled from Boston in the 
 winter of 1656. He had ventured to remonstrate 
 with the rulers of Massachusetts, on their passing 
 a law for the banishment of "that cursed sect of 
 heretics, lately risen up in the world, commonly called 
 Quakers," and prohibiting all commanders of ships, 
 under penalty of a heavy fine, from bringing them 
 into that jurisdiction. Leaving his wife and chil- 
 dren, and the colony in which long before he had 
 taken refuge from persecution at home, the old man 
 at length reached Rhode Island. Although during 
 many years he had taken deep interest in the par- 
 ticular Puritan congregation of which he was a 
 member, he had found that forms and ceremonies 
 could not satisfy his soul, and on hearing the views 
 maintained by Friends he was " much refreshed." 
 Probably some suspicion of this spiritual sympathy 
 
THE MARTYRS OF BOSTON. 2O9 
 
 with the " heretics," increased the bitterness of his 
 persecutors, who held the creed that, 
 
 "Toleration is the first-born child 
 Of ail abominations and deceits." 
 
 Only a few months after the banishment of Nicho- 
 las Upshal, a vessel from London sailed into Boston 
 Bay, on board of which were two Friends named 
 Mary Dyer and Ann Burden. Both had left Massa- 
 chusetts some twenty years earlier as Antinomian 
 exiles, and Mary Dyer had taken a prominent part 
 in that secession, whilst her force of character and 
 vigorous understanding, no doubt, caused her to be 
 regarded as a formidable opponent by the orthodox 
 Puritans. 
 
 Her husband and herself took refuge in Rhode 
 Island, which the new sect, with the assistance of 
 Roger Williams, purchased of the Narragansett 
 Indians. , In this young colony it was decided ^that 
 **none should be accounted a delinquent for 
 doctrine." During a visit to Great Britain Mary 
 Dyer became a Friend, and was a minister in that 
 Society at the time of her return to the forbidden 
 port of Boston. She is described by Croese as '' a 
 person of no mean extract and| parentage, of an 
 estate pretty plentiful, of a comely stature and 
 countenance, of a piercing knowledge in many 
 things, of a wonderful sweet and pleasant discourse 
 — fit for great affairs." Ann Burden was a widow, 
 and was desirous to collect some debts due to her 
 husband's estate. But, as might be anticipated, 
 both she and her friend were at once seized and cast 
 
 p 
 
210 THE MARTYRS OF BOSTON 
 
 into prison, and at the expiration of three months 
 Ann Burden was banished to England. When Mary 
 Dyer's husband, who was not a Friend, heard of her 
 imprisonment, he came from Rhode Island, and suc- 
 ceeded in obtaining her release and leave to take her 
 home, after becoming " bound in a great penalty not 
 to lodge her in any town of the colony, nor permit 
 any to have speech with her on the journey." 
 
 But no Puritanical power, no human hand, was 
 strong enough to suppress the heaven-implanted and 
 divinely-directed zeal of the Friends to share their 
 spiritual treasure with others. About this time six 
 of those who had been driven from Boston the pre- 
 ceding year, believed that the Lord was calling them 
 thither again, and were assured that He would give 
 them grace to endure any suffering they might have 
 to pass through. But the practical difficulty was how 
 to obtain a passage to New England, for the enact- 
 ment of the Court of Boston natura}ly deterred the 
 owners of vessels from taking them on board. This 
 trial of faith was not a long one. A Friend and 
 minister named Robert Fowler, who resided in York- 
 shire, had been engaged in building a small bark, and 
 had meamvhile been impressed with the idea that it 
 was God's design that it should be used for the pro- 
 motion of His cause. New England came before his 
 mental vision, but imagining what might be involved 
 by such a voyage, and dreading the parting from his 
 wife and children, he at first thought he would as 
 soon die, as face the perils which would in all proba- 
 bility ensue. But after a while he was, we learn, 
 *' by the strength of God made wilhng to do His will," 
 
AND THEIR FRIENDS. 211 
 
 • 
 
 liaving been " refreshed and raised up by His instru- 
 ■ment, George Fox." Accordingly he sailed to Lon- 
 don, and there consulted a Friend who was deeply 
 interested in the visits of ministers to distant lands ; 
 and wholly unsafe as it might seem to cross the 
 Atlantic in so small a craft as the WoodJwuse, no 
 doubt was felt that this was the right mode of transit 
 for the Friends who were anxious to return to Mas- 
 sachusetts. They were joined by five other ministers 
 of the Society, one of whom was a young London 
 merchant, named Wiliam Robinson. 
 
 In the summer of 1657 Robert Fowler received, he 
 tells us, '* the Lord's servants aboard, who came with 
 a mighty hand and an outstretched arm with them.'* 
 At the Downs William Dewsbury visited them. 
 ■" When I came oif," he writes to Margaret Fell, 
 ■^ they did go on in the name and power of the Lord 
 our God. His everlasting presence keep them in the 
 unity, in the life, and prosper them in his work : for 
 many dear children shall come forth in the power of 
 God in those countries where they desire to go."* 
 Whilst the Woodhousc was waiting in Portsmouth 
 Harbour for a fair wind, William Robinson addressed 
 a few lines to Margaret Fell : — " My dear love 
 salutes thee in that . . . which was before words 
 were, in which I stand faithful to Him who hath 
 
 * In the following year the first Yearly Meeting of the Society 
 was held at Scalehouse, in Yorkshire, at which it was recommended 
 that a general collection should be made in aid of Gospel Missions, 
 *• to be speedily sent up to London as a free-will offering for the 
 Seed's sake " ; and an Epistle to this effect was drawn up, in which, 
 also, deep sympathy is expressed for those who had " so freely given 
 up their friends, their near relations, their country, and worldly- 
 estates, yea, and their own lives." 
 
212 THE MARTYRS OF BOSTON 
 
 called us. ... I know thee and have union with thee 
 though absent from thee. ... I thought good to let 
 thee know the names of them that do go. . . . 
 Humphrey Norton, Robert Hodshon,Dorithy Waugh, 
 Christo. Holder, William Brend, John Copeland, 
 Richard Doudney, Mary Weatherhead, Sarah Gibbons, 
 Mary Clarke. The Master of the ship, his name 
 is Robert Fowler, a Friend." He writes from 
 Southampton, having landed with another Friend 
 in order to hold a meeting there, for — as Robert 
 Fowler quaintly says in reference to this delay — 
 *' the ministers of Christ were not idle, but went 
 forth and gathered sticks, and kindled a fire, and left 
 it burning.'' The voyage of the little bark was a very 
 remarkable one. 
 
 For fifty leagues they were accompanied by three 
 ships bound for Newfoundland, which speedily took 
 a northward course on seeing the approach of a man- 
 of-war. Humphrey Norton told the captain that 
 early in the morning it had been shown him that 
 enemies were near, and also that the Lord would 
 preserve them from harm ; and by means of a strong 
 wind they were delivered from their dangerous posi- 
 tion. Left alone on the wide ocean, they earnestly 
 sought guidance from God, and believed that He bade 
 them " cut through, steer their straightest course, and 
 mind nothing but Him." " Unto which thing," says 
 Robert Fowler, " He much provoked us, and caused 
 us to meet together every day, and He Himself met 
 with us, and manifested Himself largely unto us. 
 After we had been five weeks at sea, wherein the 
 powers of darkness appeared in the greatest strength 
 
AND THEIR FRIENDS. 213 
 
 against us, having sailed but about 300 leagues, 
 Humphrey Norton, falling into communion with God, 
 told me that he had received a comfortable answer ; 
 and also that about such a day we should land in 
 America, which was even so fulfilled." They likewise 
 felt that the circumstances attending their landing in 
 the New World wonderfully manifested the loving care 
 •of their Lord. What would be the result if their suc- 
 cessors, crossing "Life's solemn main," should, with a 
 like faith, ever " steer the straightest course " through 
 its varied avocations, hallowing all by performing 
 them under God's guidance and in the light of His 
 countenance ? 
 
 As the vessel was entering a creek between Dutch 
 Plantation and Long Island, "the power of the Lord," 
 writes Robert Fowler, " fell much upon us, and an 
 irresistible word came unto us, That the seed in Ame- 
 rica shall he as the sand of the sea : it was published in 
 the ears of the brethren, which caused tears to break 
 forth in fulness of joy." He was also able to rejoice 
 in the evidence granted him that the prayers of the 
 Church did indeed ascend on their behalf. Five of 
 the Friends landed at New York whilst the remaining 
 six went on to Rhode Island. Soon after their 
 arrival, John Copeland says in a letter to his 
 parents : — " Take no thought for me. The Lord's 
 power hath overshadowed me, and man I do not 
 fear ; for my trust is in the Lord, who is become our 
 shield and buckler, and exceeding great reward." 
 Thus did God prepare His youthful servant to suffer 
 for His sake. 
 
 A few weeks later, Christopher Holder and himself 
 were lying in Boston gaol, without bedding, or even 
 
214 THE MARTYRS OF BOSTON 
 
 straw, fearfully lacerated from the effect of thirty 
 lashes barbarously inflicted with a knotted scourge. 
 For three days the gaoler refused to supply them 
 with food or water, but they were sustained by their 
 Saviour, and enabled to rejoice in His manifested 
 love. Being accused as " blasphemers, heretics, and 
 deceivers," they issued a declaration of i^aith, con- 
 taining the following sentences : — 
 
 " In Him do we believe, who is the only-begotten 
 Son of the Father, full of grace and truth. And in 
 Him do we trust alone for salvation ; by whose blood 
 we are washed from sin ; through Whom we have 
 access to the Father with boldness, being justified by 
 faith in believing in His name. Who has sent forth the 
 Holy Ghost, to wit, the Spirit of Truth, that proceedeth 
 from the Father and the Son ; by which we are sealed 
 and adopted sons and heirs of the kingdom of Heaven. 
 . . . Believe in the Light, that you may be children of 
 the light ; for as you love it and obey it, it will lead you 
 to repentance, bring you to know Him in whom is re- 
 mission of sins, in Whom God is well pleased ; Who 
 v/ill give you an entrance into the kingdom of God, an 
 inheritance amongst them that are sanctified." 
 
 But the Governors would not allow any such asser- 
 tion to alter their opinion that Quakerism was a dan- 
 gerous heresy, and, terribly rigorous as was the law 
 against its promulgators, it was not sufficiently so to 
 satisfy them ; for Endicott and Bellingham gave 
 orders that all the Friends then in prison should be 
 severely whipped twice a week. But the humanity 
 of the inhabitants of Boston revolted at this decree, 
 and the sympathy thus aroused led to the release of 
 the sufferers, who were at once banished from the 
 colony. Soon afterwards John Copeland and his 
 friend William Brend were sentenced to a severe 
 
AND THEIR FRIENDS. 215 
 
 scourging when passing through New Plymouth. 
 The age of the latter awoke no compassion in the 
 heart of the persecutors ; the following year, after 
 holding several meetings with William Ledra, of 
 Barbadoes, he was imprisoned at Boston, and re- 
 ceived such brutal beatings — inflicted with a pitched 
 rope, by a gaoler who had previously kept him with- 
 out food for live days, and most cruelly fettered him 
 for many hours — that he appearod to be dying.* 
 Endicott being alarmed at this, sent a physician to 
 him, who thought his recovery impossible. But the 
 hand of an unseen Healer was laid on him, and he 
 must have been at least ninety when, eighteen years 
 later, the following burial note was made out : — 
 *' William Brend, of the Liberty of Katherine's, near 
 the Tower, a minister, died 7-vii. 1676, and was 
 buried at Bunhill Fields." Before returning to Eng- 
 land he laboured in Rhode Island and the West 
 Indies. In 1662 he was one of the many hundred 
 Friends confined in Newgate, fifty-two of whom died 
 in consequence of diseases caused by the loathsome 
 state of that prison. f 
 
 • W. B. had refused to work, not thinking it right to submit to^; 
 prison discipline, as his confinement was unjust. 
 
 t We may form some idea of the heavenly consolation granted to 
 this venerable pilgrim, in that hour of need, by his beautiful " Salu- 
 tation to all Friends," from which a brief extract follows : — *' It hath 
 been upon my heart when in the sweet repose of the streams of my 
 Father's love and life, by which my heart hath been overcome, to 
 visit you with a loving salutation from the place of my outward 
 bonds." After bidding them " flock together into our Father's fold, to 
 get into His tent of safety, and lie down in the arms of His dear 
 love," &c., he adds : "Oh ! in the love and life of the Lamb, look over 
 all weakness in one another, as God doth look over all the weakness 
 in everyone of us, and doth love us for His own Son's sake — in so 
 doing peace will abound in our borders, it will flow forth amongst us 
 like a river, and it will keep out jars, strifes, and contentions," 
 
2l6 THE MARTYRS OF BOSTON 
 
 As the Governors of Massachusetts were regardless 
 of old age, so were they of the weakness of women : 
 we read of the astonishment of the people of Boston 
 at hearing Sarah Gibbons and her young friend, 
 Dorothy Waugh, offering praise and thanksgiving 
 for the gracious support granted them during a cruel 
 scourging, three days before and three days after 
 which they were kept without food. A little later 
 Endicott sentenced Hored Gardner, of Rhode Island, 
 to the punishment of the knotted scourge ; she had 
 left her home at Newport, from the belief that her 
 Lord had called her to labour for Him at Weymouth, 
 in Massachusetts, where her ministry was cordially 
 received. The maid who had accompanied her on 
 this perilous journey, to assist in taking charge of 
 her infant, was the victim of a similar sentence ; and 
 the only protection granted the baby was that afforded 
 by its mother's arms, who — when the executioner 
 stayed his hand — prayed that her persecutors might 
 be forgiven, because " they knew not what they did." 
 
 At a later date, Alice Ambrose, Mary Tomkins, 
 and Ann Coleman, who was, apparently, young and 
 in delicate health, were sentenced to be whipped 
 through eleven towns, covering a distance of nearly 
 eighty miles. Although they were themselves enabled 
 to praise the Lord for the marvellous help He granted 
 them, the sight of their " torn bodies and weary steps " 
 in the third town through which they passed, excited 
 so much pity that one of the inhabitants induced the 
 constable to commit the prisoners and the warrant 
 to his care, and at once set them at liberty. Taking 
 advantage of their unlooked-for release, they went 
 
AND THEIR FRIENDS. 217 
 
 to New Quechawanah, where they had a meeting. 
 Subsequently it was, for a time, feared that Ann 
 Coleman would die from the effect of other barbarous 
 scourgings. To George Fox she writes : " Oh, the 
 love of the Lord, who hath kept His handmaid that 
 put her trust in Him. . . . What shall I say unto 
 thee of the love of my Father. . . . None can make- 
 me afraid. . . . Much service for the Lord in this 
 land, and it hath not been in vain ; and so, let thy 
 prayers be unto the Lord for me. ... In that life 
 and love which is unchangeable art thou near me." 
 Good cause, indeed, has that patient historian, Sewel, 
 for exclaiming : " But when should I have done, if I 
 would describe all the whippings inflicted on the 
 Quakers in those parts ! " 
 
 Sarah Gibbons and Dorothy Waugh, soon after 
 leaving Boston, returned to Rhode Island, where 
 they had previously been engaged in religious service, 
 and we now find their names associated with that of 
 Mary Dyer. About this time Humphrey Norton was 
 finding a short respite from persecution in the same 
 colony. A few months earlier his ministerial labours 
 had been interrupted by an imprisonment at New- 
 haven, Connecticut, where his right hand was deeply 
 branded with the letter H, as a sign that he was a 
 condemned heretic, and he was flogged in such a' 
 manner as to make some from the crowd, gathered 
 by beat of drum, exclaim, " Do they mean to kill the 
 man ? " But He, who of old caused His children to 
 receive " no hurt " in the midst of the seven-times 
 heated furnace, wonderfully upheld him in this hour 
 of extremest need ; for he states that his " body was 
 
2l8 THE MARTYRS OF BOSTON 
 
 as if it had been covered with balm." Much did the 
 people marvel when, at the conclusion of the infliction, 
 he raised his voice in thanksgiving and prayer. Not 
 long after Humphrey Norton received another scourg- 
 ing at New Plymouth. 
 
 His rest in Rhode Island was a very short one, for 
 he soon thought it right to go to Boston in company 
 with a young Friend, named John Rous, who had 
 previously been his associate in service, and some- 
 times in suffering, for their Lord ; he was the son of 
 Lieutenant-Colonel Rous, a wealthy sugar-planter of 
 Barbadoes, who afterwards became a Friend, having, 
 it is said, been much impressed by the ministry 
 of his son. When Humphrey Norton told John 
 Rous that sleep had fled from him because of the 
 sorrow occasioned by a " sense of the strength of the 
 emnity against the righteous seed " in Boston ; he 
 also felt that he must bear a part " with the prisoners 
 of hope, which at that time stood bound for the 
 testimony of Jesus." Longing to lose no time, they 
 travelled night and day, and on their arrival at Boston 
 were told of the state in which William Brend then 
 lay, from the effect of the gaoler's cruelty, and were 
 begged by their informant to leave the town, or they 
 would be " dead men." But they were bound on a 
 holy mission, from which no human power could turn 
 them aside. " Such was our load," says Humphrey 
 Norton, " that beside Him who laid it upon us, no 
 flesh nor place could ease us." And a few hours later 
 we find him, at the conclusion of the usual lecture of 
 John Norton — a minister who notoriously instigated 
 persecution — beginning an address in these words : 
 
AND THEIR FRIENDS. 219 
 
 ** Verily this is the sacrifice which the Lord God 
 accepts not; for whilst with the same spirit that you 
 sin — you preach, and pray, and sing ; that sacrifice 
 is an abomination." 
 
 Although a charge of blasphemy could not be 
 proved against him, there was no doubt that his 
 companion and himself were guilty of being Quakers, 
 and as such they were sentenced to imprisonment and 
 whipping. The former, as the son of Lieutenant- 
 Colonel Rous, who had formerly resided in the colony, 
 was at first courteously treated by the magistrates, 
 who hoped they might induce this young champion 
 of the Cross to cast aside " the heresy" he was up- 
 holding. But, notwithstanding their flattery, he 
 steadfastly maintained his ground ; vindicated the 
 doctrines which he had adopted ; and, as an English 
 citizen, claimed the right of a trial in an English 
 Court. But the Governors, well knowing what an 
 alarming exposure of their conduct towards Friends 
 would be involved by this, would not hear of such a 
 course. " No appeal to England ! " No appeal to 
 England ! " was their cry. Three days later the 
 prisoners underwent the flogging to which they had 
 been condemned ; but when this punishment was soon 
 renewed, the public indignation, already aroused by 
 the treatment of William Brend, became so strong 
 that it soon led to the liberation of the prisoners. 
 
 In the midst of all afflictions the Friends were aided 
 by the belief that their labours and sufferings w^re 
 not in vain in the Lord. In a letter to Margaret Fell, 
 John Rous says: "A firm foundation is there laid 
 in this land, such an one as the devil will never get 
 
/ 
 
 220 THE MARTYRS OF BOSTON 
 
 broken up." He writes when again in Boston prison, 
 where, about a fortnight later, he and his companions, 
 John Copeland and Christopher Holder, underwent 
 the mutilation of having the right ear cut off. Shall 
 we shrink from reading of their sufferings when we 
 see the spirit with which they were enabled to endure 
 them ? ^^ In the strength of God,'' is their language, 
 ** we suffered joyfully, having freely given up not one 
 member, but all, if the Lord so required, for the seal- 
 ing of our testimony which the Lord hath given us;" 
 words which may recall those of Brainerd with regard 
 to his prayers for his brother and himself: "My heart 
 sweetly exulted in the thought of any distresses that 
 might light on him or me, in the advancement of 
 Christ's kingdom upon earth." 
 
 A few years later, John Rous settled in England, 
 and married the eldest daughter of his beloved friend 
 Margaret Fell, to whom he proved a true son. Early 
 in 1659, and a few months after the release of John 
 Rous and his companions, William Robinson, whose 
 labours had been chiefly confined to Virginia, where 
 his ministry was much blessed, arrived at Rhode 
 Island. Here he met with Marmaduke Stevenson, 
 who had lately come from Barbadoes, and who was 
 a young Yorkshire agriculturist. Four years earlier, 
 when following the plough in his native land, he was 
 — to quote his own words—" filled with the love and 
 presence of the living God, which did ravish my heart 
 . . . and as I stood still, with my heart and mind 
 stayed upon the Lord, the word of the Lord came to 
 me in a still, small voice, ' I have ordained thee a 
 prophet unto the nations.' " He felt that he " was 
 
AND THEIR FRIENDS. 221 
 
 but a child for such a weighty matter," but he was 
 empowered to put his trust in God, and when Bar- 
 badoes was set before him, a heavenly assurance was 
 given him that the Lord would provide for his " dear 
 and loving wife and tender children." Three years 
 later he sailed for that island, where, on hearing of 
 the law which had been passed in New England for 
 putting to death such Friends as returned after 
 banishment, an inward voice seemed to whisper : 
 "Thou knowest not, but thou mayst go thither;" 
 and after a while, finding a vessel ready for a voyage 
 to Rhode Island, he took his passage in her. Having 
 spent a short time in religious service amongst the 
 Friends there, he writes that " the word of the Lord 
 came to him saying, * Go to Boston, with thy brother, 
 William Robinson,' and, at His command I was 
 obedient to give up to His will . . . for He had said 
 unto me that He had a great work for me to do." 
 
 To William Robinson, also, as clear a call had 
 been given whilst going one afternoon from Newport 
 to the residence of one of his friends. "The word of 
 the Lord," he says, " came expressly unto me, and 
 commanded me to pass to the town of Boston, my 
 life to lay down in His will, for the accomplishing of 
 His service. ... I was a child and obedience was 
 demanded of me by the Lord, who filled me with 
 living strength and power from His heavenly pre- 
 sence, which at that time did mightily overshadow me, 
 and my life did say Amen to what the Lord required 
 of me." The two young ministers arrived at Boston 
 on one of the public fast-days, and at the conclusion of 
 a religious service they thought it right to attempt to 
 
222 THE MARTYRS OF BOSTON 
 
 address the assembly, but were soon arrested. Their 
 imprisonment was shared by a child of eleven or 
 twelve, from Providence, named Patience Scott, who 
 had sometimes spoken in religious meetings, and 
 now believed herself called on to plead with the per- 
 secutors, from whose cruelty her mother had not long 
 before severely suffered. When this little girl was 
 examined by the magistrates we find that '* she spoke 
 so well to the purpose that she confounded her ene- 
 mies," who, after due consideration of " the malice 
 of Satan by all means and ways to propagate error 
 — put to his shifts to make use of such a child," de- 
 cided *' so far to slight her as a Quaker, as only to 
 admonish and instruct her according to her capacity, 
 and to discharge her." 
 
 In a letter to George Fox, from Boston gaol, 
 William Robinson writes of how God had had com- 
 passion on him, — " seeing how willingly I was given 
 up to do His will," — by constraining Marmaduke 
 Stevenson to accompany him to Boston. He thus 
 concludes : — " Oh ! my dearly beloved, thou who art 
 endued with power from on High ; who art of a 
 quick discerning in the fear of God ; Oh ! remember 
 us — let thy prayers be put up unto the Lord God for 
 us, that His power and strength may rest with us 
 and upon us ; that faithful we may be preserved to 
 the end. Amen." * 
 
 Soon the aged Mary Dyer arrived at Boston, con- 
 strained to carry comfort and cheer to her captive 
 
 * See Bowdcn''s History of the Society of Friends in America (vol. i. 
 p. 170), in which most of the material used in constructing this sketch 
 has been found. 
 
AND THEIR FRIENDS. 223 
 
 fellow-believers there, and was shortly imprisoned 
 also. When the Friends were at length brought 
 before the governors and magistrates, William Robin- 
 son endeavoured to make them comprehend that 
 his companions and himself had come to Boston 
 from the clear conviction that such was the will of 
 God concerning them ; and therefore, if the rulers 
 put them to death for breaking their law, they would 
 be guilty of shedding innocent blood. It is said — 
 and there is no slight significance in the remark — 
 that his words seemed to " cut them to the quick ; " 
 but the speaker was soon silenced by a handkerchief 
 being thrust into his mouth, and was afterwards 
 sentenced to receive twenty lashes in the streets 
 of the city. The Friends were then liberated and 
 ordered to leave the jurisdiction on pain of death. 
 
 William Robinson and Marmaduke Stevenson, ex- 
 periencing the blessedness of living under a higher 
 and holier law than any mere human authority, felt 
 that the Lord still had need of them to testify for 
 Him in this colony ; so on the day after their release 
 they went to Salem, desiring to invigorate the faith 
 of their friends in that neighbourhood. The latter 
 were afraid to have meetings held in their houses, 
 but met the ministers in a wood not far from the 
 town, where, so writes a Friend who was present, ** a 
 great flocking there was to hear. The Lord was 
 mightily with them, and they spake of the things of 
 God boldly, to the affecting and tendering the hearts 
 of many." A very warm welcome was given them 
 as they went northwards to Piscattaway. 
 
 The mere fact of remaining in Massachusetts, at 
 
224 ^^^ MARTYRS OF BOSTON 
 
 the peril of their Hves, in order to display the banner 
 of their Lord, naturally gave rise to inquiry concern- 
 ing the doctrines they preached. A Friend who had 
 accompanied Marmaduke Stevenson from Rhode 
 Island, writes : — " Divers were convinced, the power 
 of the Lord accompanying them, and with astonish- 
 ment confounded their enemies before them ; great 
 was their service abroad in that jurisdiction for four 
 weeks and upwards." When these labours were 
 ended they were constrained by the love of Christ to 
 visit Boston, there to be witnesses for Him. They 
 were joined by six Friends of Salem, who, animated 
 by a like holy motive, wished, even at the risk of 
 their own safety, to uphold the hands of those whom 
 they already looked on as martyrs. 
 
 As this little band of faithful men and women drew 
 near the city they were met by the constabulary and 
 a rough crowd, and were soon committed to prison. 
 Robinson and Stevenson were placed in chains, and 
 confined in a separate cell, whilst all their papers, 
 including the journal of the former, were taken from 
 them. A few days earlier, Mary Dyer, who had spent 
 a little while with her family, had reappeared, and 
 been again imprisoned. Before long the three Friends 
 were brought before the General Court, and to 
 Endicott's question why they had returned to the 
 jurisdiction whence they had been banished on pain 
 of death, they each replied that they came only in 
 obedience to the Divine call. William Robinson 
 asked leave to read an explanation which he had 
 prepared, and when forbidden to do this, laid it on 
 the table. 
 
AND THEIR FRIENDS. 225 
 
 After describing the heavenly intimation he had 
 received that it was God's will that he should lay 
 down his life for the cause of Christ, he writes : " I, 
 being a child, durst not question the Lord in the 
 least, and as the Lord made me willing, dealing gently 
 and kindly with me, as a tender father by a faithful 
 child whom he tenderly loves, so the Lord did deal 
 with me, in ministering His life unto me, which gave 
 and gives me strength to perform what the Lord 
 required of me. . . . Therefore all who are ignorant 
 of the motion of the Lord in the inward parts, be not 
 hasty in judging in this matter. . . . The presence 
 of the Lord and His Heavenly life doth accom- 
 pany me, so that I can say in truth, Blessed be the 
 Lord God of my life, who hath counted me worthy 
 and called me hereunto. . . . Will ye put us to 
 death for obeying the Lord, the God of the whole 
 earth ? " 
 
 Endicott took up this document, and, after reading 
 it, pronounced the sentence of death on its writer. 
 A few days before his execution, in an epistle 
 addressed *' To the Lord's people," William Robinson 
 says : " The streams of my Father's love run daily 
 through me, from the Holy Fountain of Life to the 
 seed throughout the whole creation. I am overcome 
 with love, for it is my life and length of days ; it is 
 my glory and my daily strength. I am full of the 
 quickening power of the Lord Jesus Christ. ... I 
 shall enter with my Beloved into eternal rest and 
 peace, and I shall depart with everlasting joy in my 
 heart, and praises in my mouth." After Marmaduke 
 Stevenson had received his sentence, he solemnly 
 
 Q 
 
226 THE MARTYRS OF BOSTON 
 
 addressed the magistrates, concluding with these 
 words : "Assuredly if you put us to death, you will 
 bring innocent blood upon your own heads, and swift 
 destruction will come upon you." It is a remarkable 
 fact that many of these persecutors came to an 
 untimely end, or were visited by severe personal cala- 
 mities which resulted in death. ** The hand or judg- 
 ment of the Lord is upon me," were the words of 
 John Norton, who, whilst walking in his own house, 
 leant his head against a chimney-piece, and sank 
 down never to speak again. And Major-General 
 Adderton, who had scoffingly said, " The judgments 
 of the Lord God are not come upon us yet ! " was 
 overtaken by a sudden and shocking death. 
 
 During his imprisonment Marmaduke Stevenson 
 wrote his "Call to the Work and Service of the 
 Lord ; " and, not losing sight of his old friends, he 
 prepared an address to his " neighbours and the 
 people of the town of Shipton, Weighton, and else- 
 where." " My love runs out to you all in pity to 
 your souls," he writes, " which lie in death as mine 
 hath done, but the Lord in His eternal love hath re- 
 deemed me. . . . When I ponder it in my heart, my 
 soul is ravished with His love, and broken into tears 
 at His kindness towards me, who was by nature a 
 child of wrath as well as others. Oh, the considera- 
 tion of His love hath constrained me to follow Him, 
 and to give up all for His sake, if it be the laying 
 down of my life ; for none are the disciples of Christ, 
 but they that follow Him in His cross. The Lord 
 knows I do not forget you." 
 
 A few days before his execution, he wrote a letter, 
 
AND THEIR FRIENDS. 227 
 
 " To the Lord's People," from which the following 
 extracts are taken : — 
 
 ** You lambs of my Father's fold and sheep of His 
 pasture, the remembrance of you is precious to me, my 
 dearly beloved ones, . . . who are reconciled to God, 
 and one to another, in that which sea and land cannot 
 separate ; here you may feel me knit and joined to you 
 in the spirit of truth ; and linked to you as members of 
 His body, who is our Head and Rock of sure defence ; 
 here we are kept safe in the hour of temptation and in the 
 day of trial shall we be preserved in the hollow of His 
 hand ; here His banner of love will be over us. . . . So, 
 my dear friends ! let us always wait at the altar of the 
 Lord, to see the table spread, that so we may sit down 
 and eat together, and be refreshed with the hidden manna, 
 that comes from Him, who is our life, our peace, our 
 strength, and our preserver night and day. Oh, my 
 beloved ones ! let us all go on in His strength, who is 
 our Prince and Saviour. ... If I forget you, then let 
 the Lord forget me. Nay, verily, you cannot be for- 
 gotten by me : so long as I abide in the Vine, I am a 
 branch of the same nature with you, which the Lord 
 hath blessed, we grow together in His life and image, as 
 members of His body ; where we shall live together to 
 all eternity." 
 
 After Mary Dyer had heard her sentence, she only 
 replied by the significant words, " The will of the 
 Lord be done." And when Endicott impatiently 
 exclaimed, " Take her away, marshal," she added, 
 " Yea, joyfully I go ; " for her heart was filled with 
 heavenly consolation from the love of Christ, and 
 from the thought that she was counted worthy to 
 suffer for His sake. She told the marshal that it 
 was unnecessary for him to guard her to the prison. 
 ** I believe you, Mrs. Dyer," he answered ; " but I 
 must do as I am commanded." From the House of 
 
228 THE MARTYRS OF BOSTON 
 
 Correction she addressed "An Appeal to the Rulers 
 of Boston," in which she asks nothing for herself, 
 but manifests — as an anonymous writer remarks — 
 " the courage of an apostle contending for the Truth, 
 and the tenderness of a woman feeling for the suf- 
 ferings of her people." She writes : " I have no 
 self ends, the Lord knoweth, for if my life were 
 freely granted by you, it would not avail me, so long 
 as I should daily hear or see the sufferings of my 
 dear brethren." It is said that on the day prece- 
 ding that appointed for the execution, Mary Dyer's 
 eldest son arrived at Boston, and was allowed to 
 remain all night with his mother ; he came in the 
 vain hope of inducing her to make such concessions 
 as might be the means of saving her life. 
 
 The erection of gallows on Boston Common for 
 these guiltless victims awakened such strong feelings 
 of amazement and indignation amongst the inhabit- 
 ants, as to give alarm to the magistrates. On the 
 morning of the day appointed for the execution a 
 great number of people gathered round the prison, 
 and gave earnest attention to William Robinson, who 
 addressed them from the open window of an upper 
 room. But the rulers, who always studiously endea- 
 voured to prevent the Friends from holding inter- 
 course with the colonists, were afraid for the crowd 
 to listen, at this crisis, to Quaker preaching, and ac- 
 cordingly sent a military captain to disperse them. 
 Finding this impracticable, he entered the gaol in a 
 violent passion, and, hurling some of the prisoners 
 down stairs, shut them into a low dark cell. One of 
 this little company writes : "As we sat together 
 
AND THEIR FRIENDS. 229 
 
 waiting upon the Lord, it was a time of love ; for as 
 the world hated us and despitefully used us, so the 
 Lord was pleased in a wonderful manner to manifest 
 His supporting love and kindness to us in our inno- 
 cent sufferings ; especially to the worthies who had 
 now near finished their course. . . . God was with 
 them, and many sweet and heavenly sayings they 
 gave unto us, being themselves filled with comfort. 
 . . . While we were yet embracing each other, with 
 full and tender hearts, the officers came in and took 
 the two from us [Robinson and Stevenson] , as sheep 
 for the slaughter." 
 
 Boston Common was separated by the distance of 
 a mile from the gaol, and the prisoners were escorted 
 by two hundred men, armed with halberds, guns, 
 swords, and pikes — in addition to many horsemen. 
 It was thought the safest arrangement for this pro- 
 cession to avoid the direct thoroughfare through the 
 city, and 'the drummers were ordered to walk im- 
 mediately before the three captives, and to beat more 
 loudly if they should attempt to speak : thus when 
 William Robinson did so, the only words which were 
 audible were, "This is your hour, and the power 
 of darkness." Marmaduke Stevenson's voice was 
 drowned by the same means. ** Yet they went on," 
 as Sewel says, " with great cheerfulness, as going to 
 an everlasting wedding " — which, indeed, they were. 
 
 In reply to a coarse taunt from the marshal, Mary 
 Dyer said, " This is to me an hour of the greatest 
 joy I ever had in this world. No ear can hear, no 
 tongue can utter, no heart can understand, the sweet 
 incomes and the refreshings of the Spirit of the Lord 
 
230 THE MARTYRS OF BOSTON 
 
 which I now feel." Having bade farewell to his 
 friends, and mounted the scaffold, William Robinson 
 addressed the assembled crowd : " We suffer not as 
 evil-doers, but as those who have testified and mani- 
 fested the Truth. This is the day of your visitation, 
 and therefore I desire you to mind the light of Christ 
 which is in you, to which I have borne testimony, 
 and am now going to seal my testimony with my 
 blood." Wilson, a minister of the city, changing 
 the scoffing tone he had assumed whilst they were 
 walking to the Common, now exclaimed, — " Hold 
 thy tongue, be silent, thou art going to die with a 
 lie in thy mouth." After the executioner had adjusted 
 the rope, William Robinson said, *' Now are ye made 
 manifest; I suffer for Christ, in whom I live, and for 
 whom I die ! " Marmaduke Stevenson also spoke a 
 few words to the spectators : " Be it known unto 
 you all this day that we suffer not as evil-doers, but 
 for conscience' sake. This day shall we be at rest 
 with the J^ord." We may easily imagine that Mary 
 Dyer would now feel that much of the ordeal was 
 over. Yet, even when witnessing the death of her 
 young companions, we may believe, as we recur to 
 the words she had lately uttered, that she might have 
 said, — 
 
 " Like to a sea-girt rock I stand, 
 
 Deep sunk in peace, though storms rage by, 
 As calm as if on every hand, 
 Were only Thou, O God, and I." 
 
 When every preparation had been made for her 
 execution, the awful silence maintained around the 
 stage was broken by the piercing cry : " Stop ! she 
 
AND THEIR FRIENDS. 23I 
 
 is reprieved." This respite had been granted to the 
 prolonged intercession of her son, who was waiting 
 at the prison to welcome her. The friends of the 
 martyrs were not allowed to provide coffins for them, 
 nor even to enclose the pit into which the bodies 
 were thrown. Wilson, the minister to whom allu- 
 sion has already been ^ made, composed a scoffing 
 song on the sufferers. 
 
 But no amount of indignity which might be heaped 
 upon them could prevent their death from being a 
 solemn attestation to the futility of every effort of 
 a blind bigotry to crush the conscience of those 
 who, bearing the image and superscription of Christ, 
 rendered unto God the things that are God's ; and 
 consequently with regard to these " things," acknow- 
 ledged no ruler but Him in whose kingdom their 
 spirits dwelt. So deep an impression was made on 
 John Chamberlain, an inhabitant of Boston, by what 
 he saw and heard that day, as to cause his convince- 
 ment of the truth of the doctrines held by Friends : 
 before two years were over he had been imprisoned, 
 banished, and also cruelly whipped through three 
 towns ; yet his Saviour suffered not his faith to fail, 
 for we learn that this persecution, " so far from 
 beating him from the Truth, rather drove him nearer 
 to it." 
 
 About five months after leaving Massachusetts, 
 Mary Dyer felt that it was her duty to return to 
 Boston once more. She had in the interval, besides 
 visiting her home, spent some time in Long Island, 
 and had also laboured for her Lord at Shelter 
 Island. It was early in i66o that she re-entered 
 
232 THE MARTYRS OF BOSTON 
 
 Boston, where many Friends who had arrived in the 
 province were now imprisoned, and, after pursuing 
 her gospel service for ten days, she was arraigned 
 before the General Court. When the sentence of 
 death had been passed she said : "I came in obe- 
 dience to the will of God to the last General Court, 
 praying you to repeal your unrighteous sentence of 
 banishment upon pain of death : and that same is my 
 work now and earnest request, although I told you 
 that if you refused to repeal it, the Lord would 
 send other of His servants to witness against it." 
 Here Endicott interrupted her to ask, " Are you a 
 prophetess ? " "I spoke the words," was her reply, 
 " which the Lord spoke to me, and now the thing is 
 come to pass." She would have added more on what 
 she had felt to be the Lord's call to her, had not the 
 Governor impatiently exclaimed, "Away with her! 
 away with her ! " 
 
 At nine the following morning the marshal came to 
 fetch her ; a strong guard of soldiers were in attend- 
 ance, and drummers were ordered to walk before and 
 behind the prisoner, so soon to receive an eternal 
 release. After she had ascended the ladder, she was 
 told that if she would return home her life should be 
 spared. " Nay," she answered, " I cannot ; for in 
 obedience to the will of the Lord I came, and in His 
 will I abide, faithful unto death." To the charge of 
 being guilty of her own blood, she replied ; " Nay, I 
 came to take blood-guiltiness from you, desiring you 
 to repeal the unrighteous and unjust law; therefore 
 my blood will be required of your hands, who wilfully 
 do it." When asked if she wished any of the people 
 
AND THEIR FRIENDS. 233 
 
 to pray for her, she said that she desired the prayers 
 of all the people of God : and to the proposal that an 
 Elder should do so, she answered: *' Nay — first a 
 child, then a young man, then a strong man, before 
 [being] an Elder in Christ Jesus." When accused 
 of having said she had been in Paradise, she replied, 
 without hesitation, '* Yea, I have been in Paradise 
 these several days." The few more words she spoke 
 were on the everlasting happiness now so near at 
 hand. 
 
 A Friend who had united in her ministerial services 
 on Shelter Island sums up his description of her by 
 saying : " She even shined in the image of God." 
 On the day of Mary Dyer's martyrdom, two of the 
 imprisoned Friends, Joseph and Jane Nicholson, 
 from Cumberland, were summoned by the rulers, in 
 the hope that the deed which had just been enacted 
 would shake their constancy ; but, as a contemporary 
 writer says', " The power of the Lord in them was 
 above all, and they feared them not, nor their threats 
 of putting them to death." These menaces were not, 
 however, carried out : probably the manifestation of 
 public feeling warned those in authority that there 
 might be danger in again perpetrating an execution 
 wholly unsanctioned by the laws of the realm. Yet 
 some eight or nine months later, William Ledra — 
 who is said to have been a Cornishman, though his 
 home was in Barbadoes — was condemned to death 
 for having returned to Boston after sentence of 
 banishment. 
 
 When in 1658, after mutual labours for their Lord, 
 he had shared the imprisonment of his friend William 
 
234 THE MARTYRS OF BOvSTON 
 
 Brend in an unventilated cell — the cruelty of which 
 he had been the victim had imperilled his life : and 
 now, notwithstanding the inclemency of a New Eng- 
 land winter, he was kept chained in an open prison. 
 On the day before his deiath he addressed a letter to 
 *' The little flock of Christ," in which he remarks that 
 he was filled " with the joy of the Lord in the beauty 
 of holiness, whilst his spirit was wholly swallowed 
 up in the bosom of eternity. ... As the flowing of 
 the ocean [he continues] doth fill every creek and 
 branch thereof, and then retires again towards its 
 own being and fulness, and leaves a savour behind 
 it : so doth the life and virtue of God flow into every 
 one of your hearts, whom He hath made partakers 
 of His Divine nature." Alluding to his tender yearn- 
 ings for the young, he says : " Stand in the watch 
 within in the fear of the Lord, which is the very 
 entrance of wisdom, and the state wherein you are 
 ready to receive the secrets of the Lord. Hunger and 
 thirst patiently, be not weary, neither doubt ; stand 
 still, and cease from thine own workings, and in due 
 time thou shalt enter into the rest, and thine eyes 
 shall behold His salvation. . . . Confess Him before 
 men. . . . Bring all things to the light, that they may 
 be proved whether they are wrought in God. . . . 
 Without grace possessed, there is no assurance of 
 salvation. By grace you are saved." 
 
 The following day the fetters which had so long 
 bound him were knocked off, and we are told that he 
 went " forth to the slaughter in the meekness of the 
 Spirit of Jesus." He was surrounded by soldiers, in 
 order to prevent intercourse with his friends; but 
 
AND THEIR FRIENDS. 235 
 
 before mounting the scaffold he exhorted one of 
 them to faithfulness, and on bidding him farewell 
 added, "All that will be Christ's disciples must take 
 up His cross." A visitor to the city, from England, 
 who witnessed this scene, having asked leave to 
 speak, said ; " Gentlemen, I am a stranger both to 
 your persons and country, yet a friend of both. For 
 the Lord's sake, take not away the man's life, but 
 remember Gamaliel's counsel to the Jews. — ' If it be 
 of men it will come to nought ; but if it be of God ye 
 cannot overthrow it ; ' be careful ye are not found 
 fighters against God." This courageous stranger also 
 told them that they had " no warrant from the word of 
 God, nor precedent from our country, nor power from 
 His Majesty, to hang the man." William Ledra's 
 last words were, '* I commend my righteous cause 
 unto Thee, O God ! Lord Jesus, receive my spirit. 
 
 A few weeks before his death he wrote the follow- 
 ing testimony to the willingness of God to supply all 
 the need of His faithful followers : — " I testify in the 
 fear of the Lord God that the noise of the whip on 
 my back, all the imprisonments, and the loud threat- 
 ening of a halter, did no more affright me, through the 
 strength and power of God, than if they had threatened to 
 have hound a spider's web on my finger — which makes 
 me say with unfeigned lips, Wait upon the Lord, O 
 my soul ! " Like Josiah Southwick, of Salem, he 
 might have said, *' Tongue cannot express the good- 
 ness and love of God to His suffering people." " Here 
 is my body," were the words of the latter when sen- 
 tenced to a severe scourging, " if you want a further 
 testimony to the Truth I profess, take it and tear it 
 
236 THE MARTYRS OF BOSTON 
 
 in pieces ; your sentence is no more terrifying to me than 
 if you had taken a feather and blown it up in the air.'' 
 On the day of Willian Ledra's execution, Wenlock 
 Christison, of Salem, was placed at the bar; he, 
 also, had experienced, as Milton says of those days, 
 that— 
 
 " Heavy persecution shall arise 
 On all, who in the worship persevere 
 Of Spirit and truth." 
 
 Although exiled on pain of death, he had re- 
 appeared at Boston, and caused such consternation 
 by entering the Court just as sentence of death was 
 being pronounced on his friend, as to cause perfect 
 silence for awhile. When, now, in his turn con- 
 demned to die, he said, " The will of the Lord be 
 done. ... If you have power to take my life from 
 me, the which I question — / believe you shall never more 
 take Quakers' lives from them. Note my words." 
 
 Just at this crisis the rulers of Massachusetts re- 
 ceived tidings from England which caused a sudden 
 change in their conduct ; for on the day preceding 
 that which had been fixed on for the execution of 
 Wenlock Christison, he and twenty-seven other 
 Friends were set at liberty ; and after two of them 
 had been whipped through the town they were taken 
 by a body of soldiers out of the jurisdiction. Would 
 it not be a false refinement of feeling to be unwilling 
 to contemplate the sufferings which, not young and 
 strong men only, but tender and delicate women, were 
 enabled to endure for Christ ? Moreover, is there not 
 instruction for us in this — 
 
AND THEIR FRIENDS. 237 
 
 " Mournful record of an earlier age, 
 That pale and half-effaced lies hidden away 
 Beneath the fresher writing of to-day " ? 
 
 We are not called to martyrdom : yet — notwith- 
 standing our exemption from outward suffering, 
 our unmolested meetings, the open door set before us 
 for sharing with others the truths committed to our 
 trust — we are bidden to present our "bodies a living 
 sacrifice wholly acceptable unto God," seeking to 
 know His will (whether it leads in the hidden or con- 
 spicuous path), in order that " all the good pleasure 
 of His goodness, and the work of faith with power, 
 may be fulfilled." 
 
 *^ Thou shalt lose thy life and find it ; thou shalt boldly 
 cast it forth ; 
 And then back again receiving, know it in its endless 
 worth." 
 
238 
 
 PASSAGES IN THE LIFE OF JOHN GRATTON, 
 
 " Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just." 
 
 The autobiography of John Gratton* is probably 
 but little known in the present day. His chief end 
 in writing it is, he tells us, " that others may take 
 courage to trust in God, and he obedient to Him in all 
 things.'' 
 
 He was born in Derbyshire, in 1643, and when 
 still very young and employed in keeping his father's 
 sheep, the voice of the Heavenly Shepherd was often 
 heard in his soul. " Being but a child," he says, 
 " I did not yet know the Lord, nor think it had been 
 He that met me in my heart and conscience." The 
 sense given him of his sinfulness often troubled his 
 heart ; but too often the temptation to join his play- 
 fellows in such sports and amusements as he was 
 conscious were wrong, overcame him. The " sinful 
 foolish pastimes " were very tempting, and heavenly 
 peace was bartered for earthly pleasure. Still did 
 
 * " Journal of the Life of that Ancient Servant of Christ John 
 Gratton; giving an Account of his Exercises when Young, and 
 how he came to the knowledge of the Truth and was thereby raised 
 up to Preach the Gospel ; as also his Labours, Travels, and Sufferings 
 for the same. Printed by J. Sowle, at the Bible in George Yard in 
 Lombard Street. 1720." Reprinted by Thomas Claye : Stockport. 
 1823. Pp. 123. 
 
JOHN GRATTON. 239 
 
 the Holy Spirit strive in his soul at one time sharply 
 reproving, at another gently guiding him ; until at 
 length the sinfulness of his heart was shown him in 
 such a manner as to cause him deep distress ; but a 
 secret hope sustained him and encouraged him to 
 pray, though he knew not how. " Still," he writes, 
 " I found not power to forsake the sins I was so 
 prone to, because I received not Him to whom all 
 is given, nor yet knew Him. . . . And though He 
 appeared to me wonderfully by His Spirit I still 
 rejected His counsel, . . . though He had long waited 
 to be gracious to me." He read much and conferred 
 with many on religious subjects, going from one 
 place to another to hear the great preachers of Oliver 
 Cromwell's time. After a while he joined the Pres- 
 byterian Church, and opened his heart a little to- 
 some whom he hoped would help him. 
 
 " But, al^s ! alas ! " he writes, *' they could not aid 
 me, but would tell me it was a good condition, and I 
 must be troubled with my sins as long as I lived, . . . 
 and all this to persuade me to sit down contented, before 
 I was cleansed and washed from my sins. I dared not 
 join in the singing of psalms, feeling that I could not 
 sing them truly as 7ny song. I prayed much in private,, 
 in the stable, in barns, and in bed, and on the high moor. 
 One day, being on the top of a hill in the snow, I cried 
 aloud with strong cries to the Lord, being all alone, and 
 desired Him to show me my own heart, and the Lord 
 was pleased to hear and answer my prayer at that time ; 
 so that He gave me so to see my own heart, that I knew 
 it was the Lord did show it to me to my satisfaction, for 
 I plainly saw it to be deceitful, and not a good, humble, 
 pure heart." With touching simplicity he adds, — " I 
 was pleased that I saw it and knew what it was ; but sorry 
 that it was so vety bad." 
 
240 JOHN GRATTON. 
 
 Now, for the first time, he felt sure that the Lord 
 had answered his prayer, but the fear and trouble 
 which followed were " undeclarable." Not long 
 after, the Act of Uniformity caused the Presbyterian 
 ministers to desert their flocks, which made him 
 weep, for he " saw clearly by the Holy Scriptures 
 that they ought not to be silent at man's command 
 if the Lord had sent and commanded them to preach. 
 . . . The Presbyterian," he quaintly adds, " was not 
 •only removed out of the pulpit, but out of my heart 
 •also." One form of religion after another was tried, 
 but he found that nothing could satisfy him short of 
 the enjoyment of God in his own soul; for he '* saw 
 that a little measure of the Spirit of God was more 
 precious than all this vain world." Concerning this 
 period he writes : — 
 
 " I was mightily afraid of sinning against the Lord. 
 , . . . Sometimes I felt something that was very 
 precious and sweet to me, yet I did not clearly understand 
 what it was ; but if at any time I did or said anything 
 ;amiss, I soon lost the sight or feeling of it : oh ! it hath 
 been gone in a moment. . . . Whatsoever was 
 -tinctured with evil was against it, and it let me see it 
 and condemned it, and me to, so far as I joined with it. 
 Oh ! this to enjoy, is a comfort beyond utterance to 
 -that heart and mind which loves righteousness and 
 hungers after it." 
 
 About this time he met at a private house with two 
 'or three Friends, and a communication from one of 
 them reached his inmost soul. Whilst wending his 
 way home through a dark wood his mind was exceed- 
 ingly distressed, but as he walked onwards he had a 
 remarkable vision, during which the thought arose in 
 
JOHN GRATTON. 24I 
 
 his heart "that they were the Lord's people." " I 
 was as one amazed and in great trouble," he says, 
 ** for these were a people of all others that endured 
 the greatest sufferings, and were by all the rest hated, 
 reviled, and scorned." He sat down on a stile and 
 felt assured that if he would follow Him who had 
 graciously heard his prayers, he must forsake the 
 world, and that much which was dear to him he 
 must let go for the Lord. He adds, " At this I was 
 much troubled, for I was very loth to lose either, and 
 would gladly have had both, but could not ! " Conflict 
 followed conflict ; those to whom he appealed for 
 comfort could not give it, and he had not yet fully 
 complied with Christ's invitation, '* Come unto Me.*' 
 Once, when joining in the worship of the Anabaptists, 
 he says that a *' mighty power and weight " came over 
 him, under the influence of which he addressed the 
 congregation ; but when he found that for fear of 
 fines theii' meetings would not be held as usual, he 
 was greatly troubled — considering such conduct a 
 denial of Christ before men — and again he felt him- 
 self alone. On one occasion an Independent (whom 
 he rather vaguely describes as "a man of Lon- 
 don ! ") held a meeting which was attended by John 
 Gratton, whom the preacher asked to pray ; this, he 
 says, " I declined doing, feeling that it was a service 
 which only belonged to God to require and move 
 men to. But before he had done preaching I was 
 so pressed in my spirit to pray, that it was a great 
 exercise to forbear till he was done; and then I 
 prayed, but with such power that the people were 
 amazed, and truly so was I too." 
 
 R 
 
242 JOHN GRATTON. 
 
 Next we read of much sorrow in secret : — 
 
 " I saw the baptism with the Holy Ghost and fire; and 
 my pride and empty knowledge, yea, my faith that I had 
 got by the wisdom of man, were burned up, . . . and it 
 began to be much in my mind that what I had felt in me 
 was really the Spirit of the Lord. . . . The appearance 
 of it was mild, meek, low, and gentle, and full of good 
 counsel, but stood firm always and condemned evil. . . . 
 I had no power to live as I desired to do. I wanted the 
 Lord's presence, for without that my poor soul could not 
 find true rest ; though my life and conversation were 
 such that most loved me that knew me." 
 
 About this time he married, and his wife was very 
 anxious that he should accompany her to church ; 
 but, thinking that he could not now conscientiously 
 do this, he tells us that great sorrow fell on them, 
 and that they disputed oft till both wept. But the 
 hour was at hand when this weary pilgrim's burden 
 was to fall from him at the foot of the cross. During 
 the corn harvest he was one day riding alone in sore 
 sorrow of soul when, — 
 
 " It pleased the Lord," he writes, "that whilst I was 
 judging and condemning myself, on a sudden, un- 
 expectedly and unlooked-for, the Day-Star arose in my 
 heart, and the Sun of Righteousnes with healing on His 
 wrings, ... so that I was in my inward man full of the 
 'power and presence of Almighty God ; . . . and I believed, 
 and could not do otherwise. Oh, then was I glad, and 
 my soul was filled with joy, because I had met with the 
 Lord, who I knew was sufficient to teach me all things, 
 and gave me to see that my sins would be remitted and 
 forgiven in and through Jesus Christ ! And Christ Jesus 
 was now become my light, and my salvation, and living 
 faith sprung in me. I then saw and felt what true faith 
 was, and also saw that I never had true living faith before 
 then ; this was the free gift of God. . . . The Scriptures 
 
JOHN GRATTON. 243 
 
 now became more sweet, comfortable and precious to me, 
 till I wondered that I had never seen them so before, 
 having read them so much night and day." 
 
 Again were his thoughts directed to the persecuted 
 Quakers with a strong persuasion that with them he 
 should be able to worship ; which conviction he 
 frankly confesses made him sorry ; for if, he says, 
 
 " it had been any other people, I might have been more 
 at liberty to have pleased the world, and not to have been 
 so hated by it ; . . . for others could flee from suffering ^ 
 and conform a little sometimes ; but these abode and 
 stood, though the winds blew, and the rains fell, and the 
 floods beat upon them • for the Lord enabled them to 
 stand and outstand it." 
 
 There were no meetings of Friends in the Peak 
 country' where he then lived, but hearing of a gather- 
 ing at " one Widow Farnay's house," he attended it. 
 Little was said, yet he writes of " A sweet melody, c^ 
 . . . the presence of the Lord," and of " more true 
 comfort, refreshment and satisfaction from the Lord " 
 than any other meeting had ever afforded him. 
 
 ** Gales of Heaven, if so He will 
 Sweeter melodies can wake 
 On the lonely mountain rill 
 
 Than the meeting waters make." 
 
 His affection now freely flowed towards the Friends 
 with " such a love as none know but they that have 
 it." Even the petty persecutions heat once met with 
 in his own town only filled him with joy ; nor need 
 we wonder at this from one who could thus describe 
 God*s dealings with him : — 
 
 '* He hath made glad my soul, and satisfied the breath- 
 
7 
 
 244 JOHN GRATTON. 
 
 ings of my spirit; He hath opened to me the mysteries 
 of His kingdom, and given me a measure of His grace. 
 . . . He hath given to me the true bread of life, and 
 made my heart glad with the wine of the kingdom ; He 
 is become my teacher Himself, and hath gathered me 
 into His arm of power, and covered me with the banner 
 of His love." 
 
 At the third meeting which he attended he felt 
 himself called on by his Lord to make known His 
 goodness ; he could not disobey, and what he said 
 was "to the great joy of Friends and reaching of the 
 people." Very naturally John Gratton's wife was, 
 as he writes, " sore grieved " at what she considered 
 her husband's fanaticism ; and though they still 
 loved each other dearly, she was in much sorrow for 
 him, and he for her. But during a walk one evening, 
 when his mind was greatly tried on her account, he 
 was made glad by the belief that the language of the 
 Lord to his soul was, " I will give thee thy wife." 
 Then he relates how at the next meeting a Friend 
 named William Yardley came, and afterwards had a 
 long conversation with her; before the interview ended 
 he said, " 'Ann, God's love is to thee;' which she 
 feeling, was given up to obey it, and was glad." Their 
 happiness greatly increased, and for thirty-five years 
 longer she was " a very comfortable wife to him, 
 and never hindered him from going abroad to visit 
 Friends." 
 
 Much of his time was now spent in holding meetings 
 in his own neighbourhood and in the surrounding 
 counties. Very striking occasions were most of these, 
 and in some places Friends' meetings were established. 
 The truths on which he dwelt made a deep and lasting 
 
(uitivbrsitt) 
 
 JOHN GKATTO^ 
 
 impression on many of his own kindred — his grand- 
 father, ninety years old, saying, " This is that I have 
 been seeking for all my days.'* During one meeting 
 held in a barn, whilst he was praying, some officers 
 entered " railing and raging," until they came to the 
 spot where he knelt, "when," he says, "the power 
 of the Lord increased, and my voice rose strongly, and 
 they all stopped and turned back like men smitten, 
 and went quite away. . . . We had a precious meet- 
 ing, and were comforted." At another time, when 
 disturbed in the same way whilst preaching, strength 
 was given him to go on speaking, and the rough 
 intruders becoming conscious of the holy atmosphere 
 around them, and, solemnised and silenced by it, 
 quietly left the place. After his return home a meet- 
 ing held in his own house was attended by John 
 Gratton's father, whose object in visiting his son was 
 to chide him for his long absence from his wife. But 
 whilst he was preaching, the father's heart, like that 
 of some of the chiefest of the town who were present, 
 was deeply moved, and as soon as his son was silent, 
 he folded him in his arms and kissed him. His varied 
 faithful labours were followed by the peace which 
 passeth all understanding. " Now," says he, " I was 
 come to know what the city of God is which I had 
 read of in the Revelation ; . . . the glory of God 
 doth lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof." 
 In the Peak country his ministry seems to have been 
 particularly blessed to the people, so many of whom 
 flocked to hear him that the house would not hold 
 them all ; so one day, at Bradow, he went to the 
 market-place, and, standing on the wall under a tree, 
 
 y 
 
246 JOHN GRATTON. 
 
 addressed the assembled company. Here stones were 
 flung at him, and two Friends who had joined him 
 were violently pulled down ; but John Gratton, going 
 to that part of the wall opposite which the greatest 
 crowd was gathered, knelt down — " all fear of 
 men and stones was gone " — and, as he prayed a 
 solemn stillness came over the stormy assembly, 
 who afterwards quietly listened to one of the other 
 Friends, and the meeting ended in great sweetness. 
 Nor were these the only times when he felt the fulfil- 
 ment of the promise, "No weapon that is formed 
 against thee shall prosper." 
 
 " Now, before these things happened," he writes, " I 
 was in great exercise of mind, notwithstanding which I 
 was wilhngly given up to serve the Lord. ... I was 
 brought very low until, at a meeting in my house, it 
 pleased the Lord in mercy mightily to break in upon me, 
 greatly tendering my spirit to the gladding of my soul. 
 Thanksgivings be to Him who supported and bore me up 
 in these days of great tribulation." 
 
 The Friends were now suffering severely from fines 
 and imprisonments, but in the midst of these trou- 
 blous times he went to the Yearly Meeting in London, 
 and was greatly cheered by the sight of " those brave 
 ftieetings." On his homeward journey he spent a 
 night at Longclawson, and was asked by the Friends 
 living there to have a meeting with them. Although 
 a strong impression rested on his mind that this 
 would bring him into danger and difficulty, he did 
 not decline, whilst warning his friends that they 
 might be fined on his account ; but their answer was, 
 *' If thou v^ilt venture, we will." The meeting was 
 interrupted; the hearers were fined fivie shillings 
 
JOHN GRATTON. 247 
 
 each, and the preacher twenty pounds : a distraint 
 was made on his goods for this sum, but as no one 
 would buy them they were given him again. Allu- 
 ding to this event, he says, " Oh ! the Lord's mercies 
 were great to me. ... So that sometimes I have 
 been ready to say that, if I had had a houseful of 
 goods to lose, I could freely part with it for the sake 
 of truth." 
 
 When at Wirksworth market on business, he was 
 greatly grieved at the fearful oaths he heard, and felt 
 that, if faithfully following the path of duty, it would 
 be his place to address the people from the market 
 cross; but being almost afraid that they might "pull 
 him in pieces," he mounted his horse and rode home. 
 Deep distress followed, but the next time he went to 
 Wirksworth the call to warn the people was heard 
 again. Without waiting *' to consult any more " it 
 wasobeyed: the hearers wept aloud, none "had power 
 to hurt " Him, and one Justice Loe, who would have 
 imprisoned him, arrived too late. Amidst much oppo- 
 sition the meetings became greater and greater, and 
 John Gratton felt that he must be " abroad " as much 
 as might be. His family he says grew " bigger and 
 bigger, and he did not neglect his trade, for his care 
 was great to owe no man anything ; and the Lord 
 blessed him every way." Once he was cited to the 
 Bishop's Court, where a dignitary of the Church was 
 called on to admonish him. Describing this, he 
 writes : — 
 
 ** Seeing nothing came but, * I admonish, I admonish, 
 I admonish thee,' three times, to make way for their 
 wicked court to go on to persecute me and get money, 
 
248 JOHN GRATTON. 
 
 said I to him, ' Prithee, whether dost thou admonish me,, 
 for the good of my soul, or the love of my money ? ' 
 Said the registrar, ' I for the love of thy money, and he 
 for the good of thy soul.' With that the people made a 
 noise v^^ith laughing, for they saw it was money more 
 than the good of souls that they aimed at. A brave 
 convincement there was in those days. . . . Also in 
 many other places where the Lord ordered me and went 
 with me, and by His own right arm did unutterable things ;, 
 many were convinced, yea, hundreds, I believe, and 
 came to meetings, at which the devil was angry, and I 
 was cast into prison." 
 
 Whilst still away from home a sense had come 
 over him of suffering in store, so deep that he told 
 one of his friends that he could not see to the bottom 
 of it. Nor was it needful that he should in anticipa- 
 tion ; wide as were the waters which lay before him^ 
 he had not to pass through them alone ; the Ever- 
 lasting arms were underneath, and he knew it. Soon 
 he was arrested and sent to Derby Gaol ; he bade his 
 wife rather rejoice than weep that they were ac- 
 counted worthy thus to suffer, and when she saw 
 his cheerfulness, with a true woman's heart she 
 bravely bore the trial. Having refused to pay the 
 gaoler for leave to remain in his house, John Gratton 
 w&s still determined to have " a free prison " which 
 the law allowed, though many Friends had not long, 
 before been confined in a dungeon amongst thieves,, 
 whilst hardly provided with clean straw. Although 
 his wife was very dangerously ill, he was not given 
 leave to go to her. 
 
 " So [he says] I gave up wife and children and all I 
 had into the Lord's hand, and was contented, saying in 
 my heart after this manner : ' Life or death, poverty or 
 
JOHN GRATTON. 249 
 
 riches, come what will come, the will of the Lord be 
 done.' But it pleased the Lord that my wife mended 
 again ; and oh ! how easy I was after I had given up all ; 
 and my gaol was made a pleasant place to me, for the 
 Lord's mercy was with me, so that I even sang a living 
 song of praise. . . . Towards the spring, my eldest 
 son, John, died ; I obtained liberty to go to him, but he 
 died that night after he had seen me. Some of his last 
 words were, that he hoped we should meet where they 
 (meaning bad men) should not part us any more, And 
 the day after he was buried I left my wife and went to 
 prison again." 
 
 During his captivity he sometimes addressed the 
 people below from the window, and his faithful words 
 sank deeply into the hearts of some young men. The 
 word of God as he remarks, was not bound ; many 
 persons came to the prison, and good meetings were 
 held there. For five years and a half his imprison- 
 ment lasted, but occasional leave of absence was 
 granted him. Throughout this time his wife carried 
 on their business. On his release, after staying at 
 home for a while, he travelled through most parts of 
 the United Kingdom. The visit to Scotland seems to 
 have been especially satisfactory and comforting to 
 him : after coming home he sent an epistle to the 
 Friends there, in which he writes : — 
 
 ** I tenderly salute you with pure love unfeigned, which 
 springs from the endearing Fountain thereof. . . . Oh, 
 the goodness of God to us is undeclarable! and we see 
 as much need as ever to keep looking unto Him for 
 help every moment, for all our time is a time of need, 
 and if the Lord were not with us we could not bear up 
 against the enemy." 
 
 In the year 1707 his faithful wife died. Of her 
 illness their daughter thus writes : — 
 
250 JOHN GRATTON. 
 
 *' I being pretty much taken up in attending her, she 
 would often say, ' Dost thou take care of thy father ? ' 
 For as their love and sympathy had been great in all 
 times of trial of what sort soever, so it continued to the 
 last. . . . My dear father was then very weakly, and the 
 loss of my dear mother was a near trial and exercise to 
 him, she having been, as he himself said, a sweet help to 
 him in the Lord. He was deeply bowed in mind and 
 spirit for the loss of her, yet freely gave her up to the 
 Lord. Few who saw him thought he would continue 
 long after her. But it pleased the Lord to raise him up 
 in some measure. . . . The last winter he sensibly de- 
 cayed. . . . Being attended with sore sickness and pain, 
 he said, ' Lord, I pray thee give me ease if it be Thy holy 
 will, and remove me soon out of this body. ... It is 
 through Jesus Christ our advocate who is gone before us 
 that we are enabled to come to Thee.' . . . He departed 
 this life in the sixty-ninth year of his age, on First Month 
 gth, 1711-12, and is, I hope, at rest with the Lord, 'where 
 the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at 
 rest.' He was buried beside my dear mother." 
 
 Such was the life and such the death of this valiant 
 servant of the Lord. May we not add, concerning his 
 chequered life, that, as recorded of the patriarch 
 Joseph, " the archers sorely grieved him, and shot at 
 him, and hated him ; but his bow abode in strength, 
 and the arms of his hands were made strong b}^ the 
 hands of the mighty God of Jacob." 
 
251 
 
 JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 " The business we were sent about was to labour to turn people's 
 minds from darkness to this true light (Christ. — John i. g), and 
 from Satan's power to the power of God ; that people might come 
 to receive remission of sins, by faith in Christ Jesus." — James 
 Dickenson. 
 
 " Oh that I had a cave in the ground, that I might 
 mourn out my days, that in the end I might find 
 peace with Thee ! " was often James Dickenson's cry 
 to the Lord in his early youth. For, although his 
 
 • " Soul was for the Truth inquiring, 
 For God, and nothing less," 
 
 he had not yet experimentally learnt that " Christ 
 suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, that He 
 might bring us to God." 
 
 He was born in 1659, at Lowmoor, in Cumberland, 
 and even as a little child felt at times a secret joy in 
 drawing near to God with a broken and contrite 
 heart. His father and mother, who had become 
 Friends, rejoiced over these evidences of the work of 
 the Holy Spirit in the heart of their little son. Expe- 
 riencing the blessedness of a holy life themselves, 
 they longed that their children should follow them in 
 the paths of peace ; and although James Dickenson 
 was only seven years of age when he lost his mother, 
 and but three years older when his father died, their 
 loving counsel and the tearful earnestness of their 
 appeals were clearly remembered by him. He con- 
 
 / 
 
252 JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 fesses, however, that for a time he disregarded his 
 father's advice, and did not give heed to the " still, 
 small voice " of Christ. 
 
 ** Yet the Lord," he writes, "by His power did many 
 times reach my heart, and by the Spirit of His dear Son, 
 the Lord Jesus Christ, reproved me for my vain conver- 
 sation ; many times calling me to return unto Him from 
 whom I had gone astray. But I, not minding to turn, 
 went on in rebellion against His blessed Spirit, and ran 
 into wildness and vanity ; until the Lord, in His mercy, 
 did visit my soul by His righteous judgments. Being 
 warned to repent and turn to the Lord, a godly sorrow 
 was begun, which I experienced to lead to true repent- 
 ance. Then my familiars became my enemies, and I was 
 a taunt and a by-word to them : yet still as I loved the 
 Lord in the way of His judgments and waited upon Him, 
 I found Him give victory. ... In those deep afflictions 
 and exercises the Lord was very near, so that my soul 
 began to delight to wait upon Him in the way of His 
 judgment. I felt the love of God to increase in my soul, 
 which greatly affected me ; and a hunger was increased 
 in my heart after the enjoyment of the Lord's power and 
 the operation of it, whether it was in mercy or judg- 
 ment; so I knew my faith to be increased in the suffi- 
 ciency of the power of God, and the Lord did often 
 overshadow me with His love : and a sight of glorious 
 things I had at that time." 
 
 - But still sorrow and conflict were often his portion ; 
 for he was, as he says, "unskilful and not grown 
 in strength to resist the evil one." Yet a vision which 
 he had about this time was verified in his actual 
 experience. He thought that he saw a sheep feeding 
 in a green pasture by a pleasant river- side. A wicked 
 man, however, envying its happiness, tried to drown 
 it in the river ; when it was at the point of sink- 
 ing the good shepherd came with availing aid, and 
 
JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 253 
 
 after bringing back the rescued sheep to the quiet 
 meadow, he strove with the cruel adversary and, pre- 
 vailing, smote him and cast him into the river, the 
 strong current of which carried him away. '' And 
 when I had almost lost the hope of deliverance," 
 James Dickenson says, *' then the Lord appeared by 
 His mighty power, and rebuked the enemy, and de- 
 livered my soul from him that was too strong for me. 
 He drew me out of the troubled waters, and brought 
 my mind into true stillness, and to the proper place 
 of right waiting upon Him, where I found my 
 strength to be renewed. And the overshadowing of 
 His power I often felt to my great comfort, so that I 
 was made to admire His goodness." 
 
 At the age of eighteen James Dickenson first spoke 
 in meetings. He had felt unwilling to obey his 
 Saviour's intimations on this subject, seeing, as he 
 says, " the work to be very weighty, and looking out 
 at my own \veakness ; " but his loving Lord filled his 
 soul with all needful strength for this service, and 
 afterwards his heart was humbled by the abundance 
 of peace which flowed into it. In the midst of his 
 meditations one morning these words reached his 
 spiritual ear : " Be bold and courageous for My name's 
 sake, and I will raise thee up." They were, he says, 
 as a fire in his bones ; for he felt that God was call- 
 ing him to go to the meeting of the Presbyterians 
 at Talentire. 
 
 Thither, accordingly, he went, and found that the 
 Lord was with him and showed him what he had 
 to do ; yet it was with much fear that he entered 
 the room where they were assembled. Nor were his 
 
254 JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 apprehensions ungrounded; for no sooner was the 
 presence of a Friend discovered than there were cries 
 of " Put him forth ! " from some of the company. 
 But though roughly turned out, he stood at a window, 
 and there dehvered the message with which he felt 
 himself commissioned : " This is the day of the visi- 
 tation and the revelation of the power and Spirit of 
 Christ in your hearts ; therefore resist it not ; for, if 
 you do, it will rise up in judgment against you/» 
 This so aroused the wrath of his hearers that they 
 threw him down and dragged his head over the stones; 
 but this treatment did not trouble him much, ap- 
 parently, for he writes of *' great peace, the over- 
 shadowing of the love of God, and of his soul being 
 filled with praise." 
 
 A somewhat similar visit was paid to the Baptists 
 at Broughton, when a deep impression was made on 
 the hearts of several who, ere long, became Friends ; 
 John Ribton, who afterwards became a minister, 
 being one of the number. 
 
 When about twenty-one, James Dickenson felt it 
 to be his duty to visit Friends residing in the neigh- 
 bouring counties. Persecution was paging at this 
 time, and he was truly grateful for the protection 
 mercifully granted him during his journey; for no 
 informer came to any of the meetings which he held. 
 Two years later he paid a religious visit to Ireland. 
 In Wexford he met with Thomas Wilson, who was a 
 few years older than himself, and also came from 
 Cumberland. He had been travelling as a minister ; 
 but, for some time before James Dickenson's arrival 
 having felt the restraining influence of the Holy 
 
JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 255 
 
 Spirit fcr a season, he had employed himself in 
 harvest-work instead of continuing his journey. Now 
 he joined James Dickenson, and the rich blessing of 
 God rested on them and their united labours. " So,'* 
 writes Thomas Wilson, " I saw it was good to wait 
 the Lord's time in all things." He was an exceed- 
 ingly powerful minister : it was said of him that *' the 
 heavenly love and life his heart was often filled with, 
 streamed forth to the comfort of many ; for he was a 
 cloud the Lord often filled and caused to be emptied, 
 to the refreshing of His heritage." And James Dick- 
 enson in after years wrote : *' I know there was not 
 anything more delightful to my dear companion than 
 to be under the influence of God's Holy Spirit where- 
 with he was often filled, not only for his own good, 
 but the good of others ; and though he had a large 
 gift beyond many, yet was glad of the least child who 
 spake from the motion of God's Spirit."* 
 
 In the following year, after visiting Scotland, James 
 Dickenson held some meetings in the North of Eng- 
 land, and at Kendal met with Thomas Wilson. Here 
 a remarkable meeting took place : some persons who 
 
 • In the latter part of his life Thomas Wilson was one day present 
 at a very large meeting in London. Two gentlemen of high rank 
 were of the company, and listened with attentive interest to the 
 address of another minister. But when Thomas Wilson, who was of 
 very unimposing appearance, rose up to speak, one of these gentle- 
 men said to his companion, — " Come, my Lord, let us go; for what 
 can this old fool say? " " Nay," was the reply, " let us stay, for this 
 18 Jeremiah the prophet ; let us hear him." With such heavenly 
 power were Thomas Wilson's words accompanied that the soul of 
 one of his scoffing hearers was affected in a very striking manner. 
 He at first tried to hide his freely-flowing tears; but, when the 
 preacher had resumed his seat, he stood up and expressed his hope 
 that he might he forgiven by him, and by the Almighty for despising 
 the greatest of His instruments under heaven, or in His creation. 
 
1 
 
 256 JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 were sent to disperse the congregation dragged the 
 two ministers out of the meeting-house, but after a 
 while allowed them to re-enter it, and we read that 
 " the holy power of the Lord came mightily over the 
 hearts of Friends ; " and even their rough opposers 
 were awed by it, and seemed to have no ability to 
 carry out their intention of again forcing James 
 Dickenson out of the house when he knelt in prayer. 
 After spending some time at home engaged at his 
 trade of fellmonger (a dealer in hides), he went to 
 Wales in company with Thomas Wilson. They 
 travelled in the depth of winter, and found the 
 Friends whom they visited suffering exceedingly from 
 persecution ; yet James Dickenson says : " All things 
 were made pleasant unto us in the love of God." 
 A justice of the peace and an informer came to the 
 meeting of Haverfordwest ; but Thomas Wilson's 
 ministry was so manifestly prompted by the Holy 
 Spirit that the justice said, — " If these be the Quakers 
 I never heard the like ! Let them alone." 
 
 From Holyhead James Dickenson went to Ireland, 
 and the vessel in which he sailed was wonderfully 
 preserved from shipwreck on the bar of Dublin in a 
 tremendous storm. He felt himself commissioned to 
 warn the Friends of that country that a time of trial 
 was approaching which none would have strength to 
 endure but " those that should be settled upon the 
 rock, Christ Jesus, and gathered under His peaceable 
 government ; those would know a dwelling safely and 
 a being quiet from fear of evil." This prediction was 
 strikingly fulfilled by the war which broke out in 
 Ireland at the time of the Revolution of 1688. During 
 
JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 257 
 
 James Dickenson's first visit to that nation, also, a 
 strong impression had rested on his mind of the 
 sufferings in store for its inhabitants, whom he " be- 
 held as if they were encompassed with weapons of 
 war." 
 
 During a visit to the south of England, he attended 
 a meeting at Bristol, consisting chiefly of women and 
 children, whose male relatives were in prison ; it was 
 held in the yard, as the Friends were not allowed to 
 enter their meeting-house ; but the shadow of God's 
 wing was their canopy. ''As my eye was kept single," 
 he writes, " every day waiting for the motion of the 
 Word of Life, I found the Lord to fit and qualify me 
 for every day's service." At Crediton, in Devon, he 
 met with very rough treatment, but holy courage 
 was given him for the performance of his work. 
 God gave an abundant increase, and a meeting was 
 afterwards established in that town. 
 
 Whilst h'olding a meeting in this neighbourhood, 
 he was seized by a constable and taken before a 
 justice of the peace, who, however, spoke kindly to 
 him, and with his family appeared to be much affected 
 with what James Dickenson was constrained to say 
 to them. Then he set him at liberty, desiring that 
 God might go with him wherever he went. A meet- 
 ing which he had in the Isle of Portland was held 
 out of doors, and whilst he was engaged in prayer 
 a constable dragged him from his knees, with the 
 intention of casting him into a deep pool of water, 
 but was prevented from doing so by the people who 
 were present. But whilst he was preaching he 
 forced him out of the assembly, flung him on the 
 
 s 
 
258 JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 stones, beat him on the breast, and then ordered 
 some drunken men to drag him along the ground 
 with his head against the stones, so that the blood 
 flowed freely; again the constable struck him re- 
 peatedly, and many people wept, thinking that such 
 treatment would surely cost him his life. " But,** 
 writes James Dickenson, "the Lord made it very 
 easy to me by the sweetness of His love, with which 
 my heart was filled to the inhabitants of the island : 
 so that I heartily desired the Lord would forgive 
 those that had done me most harm ! " No marvel 
 that he adds, " Many hearts were reached that day 
 by the power of God." Well has it been said — 
 " Patience, meekness, self-abnegation, these are the 
 miracles of the New Covenant." 
 
 When James Dickenson re-visited Portland seven 
 years later, he held a meeting on the same spot, 
 and, in spite of menaces, was enabled to powerfully 
 declare the way of salvation to its inhabitants. 
 Whilst he was speaking, a man came to him with 
 a drawn sword in his hand, but had no power to 
 hurt him. Not long after his first visit to Portland, 
 he attended the London Yearly Meeting, which he 
 thus describes : — " The glory of the Lord was richly 
 manifested amongst us, and opened our hearts unto 
 Him and one unto another. Many living testimonies 
 were borne to His great name ; so that I may say it 
 was like the time of Pentecost, for we were met with 
 one accord, and our hearts were truly tendered in 
 the love of God." 
 
 When, not long after, James Dickenson visited 
 Holland with a Friend named Peter Fearon, the 
 
JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 259 
 
 ship in which they sailed was pursued by a Turkish 
 pirate vessel. They had nearly reached their desti- 
 nation, but the captain made for a point of land that 
 was in sight, saying that he would rather run any 
 risk of shipwreck than suffer the vessel to fall into 
 the hands of the Turks. James Dickenson, who, on 
 leaving Harwich, had had a presentiment of peril 
 awaiting them on the Dutch coast, now felt, whilst 
 his heart was uplifted to God, that He would save 
 them from their dangerous enemies ; accordingly he 
 begged the captain to alter his hazardous course and 
 steer for the harbour, which, after much entreaty, he 
 did ; the pirates sailed in another direction, and the 
 English vessel safely entered the port of Brill. Before 
 leaving home, James Dickenson had felt especially 
 attracted to Horn, although apparently he knew 
 nothing about its inhabitants. It therefore gave him 
 pleasure wh^n the interpreter told him of a people 
 dwelling there, who desired a more perfect knowledge 
 of the way of God. So, after many blessed seasons 
 during the Yearly Meeting at Amsterdam, a re- 
 markable meeting was held at Horn, when several 
 hearts were opened to receive the message of the 
 strange minister. 
 
 After visiting Friesland, &c., they returned safely 
 to England, notwithstanding a very dangerous storm. 
 " The Lord," remarks James Dickenson, " is large 
 in His love, and of great kindness to them that are 
 truly given up to follow Him." 
 
 During the revolution of 1688, James Dickenson, 
 in company with another Friend, held meetings in 
 many parts of England, striving to turn the hearts 
 
/ 
 
 26o JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 of the people to the Prince of Peace. Afterwards he 
 again went to the western counties, having Thomas 
 Wilson for his fellow-labourer. The latter writes, 
 *' We had a precious journey. Meetings were now 
 very large ; many people came in to seek after the 
 Lord's truth, and much desired to hear the word, 
 the strong wind of persecution being ceased, so that 
 there was a great calm. We had glorious meetings : 
 the Lord's tendering, heart-melting power, greatly 
 breaking through them." 
 
 Whilst engaged in holding meetings in Scotland in 
 i6go, James Dickenson was joined by Robert Barclay, 
 whom he afterwards visited at his residence at Ury, 
 where a General Meeting was held. Just at this time 
 Robert Barclay became ill of a violent fever, which 
 soon terminated his life. As James Dickenson sat by 
 his bedside, they felt their hearts to be closely drawn 
 together in a powerful sense of the presence of their 
 Lord ; and Robert Barclay spoke with tears of his 
 love to all faithful brethren in England, especially 
 mentioning George Fox. But James Dickenson was 
 probably unable to deliver this message of love, as 
 soon after his return from Scotland he heard of 
 - George Fox's death. These tidings gave him deep 
 sorrow, yet he writes : " When I turned my mind to 
 the Lord, I found he had done the work of his day 
 and was gone to rest ; and we must be content : and 
 they would be happy that followed his footsteps." 
 
 In the spring of 1691 James Dickenson and 
 Thomas Wilson sailed for America, where each felt 
 himself called to labour ; the former was then about 
 thirty-two years of age. Before leaving England 
 
JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 261 
 
 they attended the Yearly Meeting, and met with much 
 loving sympathy. It was a perilous time for voyaging 
 in consequence of war with France, and it was 
 rumoured that the French Fleet lay some thirty 
 leagues from the Land's End. Very fervent were the 
 prayers of the young ministers, that if it were in accord- 
 ance with God's will, no evil might betide them : and 
 strong faith was given them to commit themselves to 
 His keeping. Whilst still in London Thomas Wilson 
 joyfully told his friend that the Lord had made it 
 plain to him that they should be preserved from harm. 
 James Dickenson's reply was that God had shown 
 him that the French Fleet would almost encompass 
 them, but that He would send a great mist and dark- 
 ness between them and their enemies, in which they 
 should be able to make their escape. This was 
 literally the case, which was, says Thomas Wilson, 
 ** cause of great gladness to me, who had been under 
 a deep travail of spirit with fasting and prayer." To 
 all on board this deliverance appeared to be a mira- 
 culous one, and in the time of trouble the two Friends 
 were wonderfully upheld by an unusually clear con- 
 sciousnesss of *' the Lord's living presence with them." 
 On the following Sabbath a remarkable meeting was 
 held on the quarter-deck. 
 
 When drawing near Barbadoes a man-of-war, sup- 
 posed by the English captain to be a French priva- 
 teer, bore down upon his vessel, and he made pre- 
 parations for fighting her. When assigning posts to 
 those on board, he said to the Friends : '' As for you 
 I know it is contrary to your principles to fight ; 
 Lord forbid I should compel any man contrary to his 
 
262 y JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 conscience ! Take your quarters with the doctor.'* 
 James Dickenson observing that the other passengers 
 were very angry at this, and wishing to show that 
 the conduct of his companion and himself was in- 
 fluenced by conscience and not by cowardice, told the 
 captain that, since he kindly gave them leave to 
 choose their places, they would stay on the quarter- 
 deck with him. This announcement caused much 
 astonishment to those who had been saying that 
 the Quakers deserved to be shot, and effectually 
 silenced them. The alarm proved to be a false 
 one. 
 
 James Dickenson and his friend spent more than 
 two months in Barbadoes, undaunted by a very infec- 
 tious malady, from which some hundreds had already 
 died. The meetings were thronged by both the white 
 and black inhabitants, who were deeply affected as 
 the ministers, with hearts filled with the love of God, 
 proclaimed the Gospel amongst them. At that which 
 was first held, the negroes, with tears flowing freely 
 down their faces, heard the truths which were 
 declared in silent amazement. The voyage thence 
 to New York was of a month's duration, and the 
 captain was exceedingly afraid lest they should 
 perish in a great storm which lasted for ten days ; 
 but Thomas Wilson told him not to fear, for — as he 
 says — he saw that the ship would not be lost. It was 
 the depth of winter by the time the travellers reached 
 Pennsylvania, yet, as the meeting-houses were too 
 small to hold the numbers who flocked to them, the 
 meetings were held out of doors, sometimes in deep 
 snow. Then they pursued their journey through 
 
JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 263 
 
 woods and wildernesses, and over most dangerously 
 frozen rivers, to Maryland. 
 
 Whilst crossing Chesapeake Bay a thick fog came 
 on, and, the boat being cast on an island, they spent 
 the winter night lying on the ground. So great were 
 the floods in Carolina that it was unsafe to travel on 
 horseback ; they therefore waded barefoot through 
 the swamps, giving but little heed to the wolves and 
 other wild animals which infested this district. 
 Through all hardships they were upheld by the right 
 hand of Him, whose they were and whom they 
 served. A warm welcome was given them by Friends 
 and others, for a visit from a strange minister was a 
 rare event, and blessed meetings were held. 
 
 At Black Creek, whilst James Dickenson was 
 preaching, a sheriff, who came with some officers to 
 disperse the congregation, asked him from whom he 
 had his commission. He replied: " From the great 
 God unto whom thou and I must give an account." 
 When the intruders had left, a ''heavenly meeting" 
 was held ; several of those present afterwards became 
 Friends, and soon a meeting-house was built, and a 
 meeting established. When returning through the 
 wilderness to Maryland, on the first night of their 
 journey, they slept in the woods, kindling a fire as a 
 safeguard from the cold and from the wild beasts. 
 Whilst eating their bread and cheese in the twilight, 
 Thomas Wilson found that his horse had discovered 
 some water, and he unconsciously gives a glimpse of 
 his peaceful state of mind when he says : " I think I 
 never drank any wine more sweet and pleasant to me 
 than that water was." Another night they spent in the 
 
? 
 
 264 JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 house of a poor man who could not offer them a bed, 
 but entertained them as they sat by his fire with an 
 account of George Fox and John Burnyeat's visit to 
 that part of the country. 
 
 At the Yearly Meeting at Salem, in Jersey, they 
 met with a great number of Friends. " We had 
 many glorious meetings," writes James Dickenson, 
 " and were livingly open to proclaim the everlasting 
 Gospel and day of God's love." They next went 
 to Philadelphia, where George Keith and his false 
 doctrine had been causing great trouble. Here they 
 were wonderfully helped in their arduous labours. 
 It was not until the early part of 1693 that they re- 
 turned to England, having previously paid a second 
 visit to Barbadoes. They were more than once 
 exposed to much danger on the voyage thence from 
 Boston. During a tornado, which laid the vessel on 
 one side like a log of wood, they were kept in such 
 perfect peace, that all fear of death was taken away, 
 and their hearts were filled with joy from the wells 
 of salvation. The captain of the vessel, having an 
 aversion to Friends, said that, if she were taken by 
 the French, it would be because there were Quakers 
 on board. As they drew near Barbadoes a very 
 thick, dark mist came on, by means of which they 
 were preserved from a French privateer, and landed 
 safely at Bridgetown. The captam did not find that 
 he fared better when he had parted with his burden- 
 some passengers ; for, on her return voyage, whilst 
 still in sight of the island, the vessel was captured 
 by the enemy and taken to Martinico. 
 
 When the Friends were ready to embark from 
 
JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 265 
 
 Nevis, the Governor refused to allow them to leave 
 
 the island, saying they were spies ; but when they 
 
 showed him " the broad seal " of their passport he 
 
 forthwith altered his tone. Almost as soon as they 
 
 set foot on deck such a remarkable sense of God's 
 
 presence was granted them as to cause them to shed 
 
 tears of joy. Several epistles were written by Thomas 
 
 Wilson and James Dickenson to Friends in different 
 
 parts of America, from which the following extracts 
 
 are taken : — 
 
 ** Dear Friends, Truth is the same that ever it was and 
 the power of it as prevailing as ever ; and, where it is 
 kept to and dwelt in, hath the same effect as ever, as 
 many of you are witnesses who keep your habitation 
 therein, with whom our souls are bound up in God's 
 everlasting covenant of light ; in which as we walk we 
 have the fellowship one with another and the blood of 
 Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all unrighteous- 
 ness. . . . What gifts soever you have received, be care- 
 ful that you be improving them to the honour of the 
 Giver, as those who know an account must be given 
 unto Him. . . . He is daily opening the Divine mys- 
 teries of His Kingdom to them who are kept humble and 
 low before Him ; who wait for counsel from the Lord 
 every day, and to feel the assistance of His Spirit, and 
 dare not move until the Load go before and draw them 
 forward." 
 
 In another epistle the following remarks are 
 found : — 
 
 " May you be kept in God's holy covenant of peace, 
 the sweetness whereof none know, as it is, but those who 
 dwell in it, and keep to the conduct of the power that 
 gathered them." 
 
 Again we read : — 
 
 ** All give up your hearts to God to be kept by His 
 power in fellowship with Him ; then will your fellowship 
 
266 JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 be sweet one with another ; so will you know all things 
 that offend to be cast out of the kingdom, and you 
 will be tender one over another, the strong lending a 
 hand to help the weak ; and be of Moses' mind, who 
 wished that all the people were prophets. . . . All your 
 safety is and will be to keep inward to the Lord, that He 
 may be your teacher, your own spirits being silenced ; 
 waiting with delight to hear what He speaks. Then if 
 He be pleased to open any of your mouths for the edi- 
 fication one of another, it will be in His power and 
 wisdom from above. ... If you keep those longing 
 desires that are already raised in you, ye shall know * the 
 sincere milk of the word that you may grow thereby ' 
 from one degree of grace unto another, until you become 
 perfect men in Christ Jesus. ... As all keep low in 
 their respective gifts, waiting to know the assistance of 
 God's Spirit — still being nothing without it — you will feel 
 the Lord to work all your works both m you and for you, 
 and give power to answer what He requires of you; and 
 then His love will be increased unto you, and you will 
 abide in favour with him." 
 
 A few weeks after James Dickenson's marriage, 
 which took place in 1694, he felt that God had com- 
 ; missioned him with a message of warning to the in- 
 habitants of London. When he spoke on this subject 
 to his wife she urged him to do his Lord's bidding, 
 saying that she only desired to enjoy what she en- 
 joyed, in God's favour. Some time after this service 
 ., had been performed, he told her that his Divine 
 j Master was again calling him to labour amongst the 
 Friends in America. "Mind thy freedom in the Lord," 
 was her reply, " and let no worldly affairs hinder thee; 
 but answer His requirings." James Dickenson admits 
 that this matter brought " deep exercise " upon his 
 spirit, yet so full w^as the sense afforded him of 
 " God's love to His heritage and people the world 
 
JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 267 
 
 over," that he was quite willing to leave all and under- 
 take this arduous work for Him. His friend, Peter 
 Fearon, we read, accompanied him " in pure love " 
 to London, and they held meetings in several places. 
 Their hearts were closely bound together, and their 
 parting was a very touching one ; they separated at 
 Woburn, where a meeting had been held, and James 
 Dickenson went back to London alone. " Before I 
 had travelled half a mile," he writes, " the Lord's 
 power overshadowed my soul, by which my heart 
 was broken and filled with joy and gladness, which 
 made up all my wants." 
 
 It was with similar feelings that he began his 
 voyage ; two other Friends, also bound for America, 
 were on board the vessel : the preceding First-day 
 two meetings had been held at Rochester, at one of 
 which a young man engaged in prayer for the first 
 time in public ; '' I was glad," says James Dickenson, 
 " to see the Lord at work in the hearts of babes to 
 perfect His own praise." The ship was delayed for 
 several weeks in the Downs as the wind was un- 
 favourable, and during this time meetings were fre- 
 quently held on board. James Dickenson also gladly 
 availed himself of an opportunity to revisit Canter- 
 bury, where a deep impression had been previously 
 made by his ministry. Before leaving this city he re- 
 ceived a call from a clergyman who had been at one of 
 the meetings, and wished to have some conversation 
 with him. He remarked that he had himself no im- 
 mediate impulse to preach. " If," answered James 
 Dickenson, " I had no immediate impulse of the 
 Spirit to preach the Gospel, I would never have left 
 
268 JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 my wife and family to do it : but there was a neces- 
 sity laid upon me. Every true minister of ChrivSt 
 knows a necessity so to do." As they parted the 
 clergyman admitted that this was the truth. 
 
 About this time there was a rumour that England 
 would be invaded by the French, which caused a 
 strict embargo to be laid on all shipping, and for five 
 months the voyage was delayed. James Dickenson 
 did not feel that it would be right for him to return 
 home, but patiently waited the Lord's time, and was 
 upheld by Him in the midst of his trials. He often 
 went on shore to hold meetings. At Deal he was 
 interested in a young clergyman whom he met with 
 on the beach, and who had that evening attended a 
 meeting held by Thomas Rudd and himself. He 
 was much depressed, and was anxious to know more 
 about the principles of Friends, concerning whom he 
 had been greatly misinformed. James Dickenson 
 says that his heart was lovingly opened to give him 
 the information he desired, for he felt that God's love 
 abounded towards him, and their conversation was 
 prolonged to a late hour. Some meetings held in 
 London are thus described by James Dickenson : — 
 
 ,*' We had a very heavenly time, and found the power 
 of the Lord at work in the hearts of several young people, 
 Many mouths were opened to declare the Truth ; for 
 which I was glad, and to see the Lord's work to prosper. 
 The day before we set sail we had a public meeting on 
 board the ship we went in : many people came to it out 
 of the country, and the Lord, by His power, broke in 
 wonderfully amongst us. I was livingly opened to pro- 
 claim the word of life, and many hearts were tendered. 
 Then I had a sight that the time of our departure was near, 
 and that we should get on our long-desired voyage." 
 
JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 269 
 
 When the vessel was lying off Cowes he wrote a 
 brief epistle to the Yearly Meeting which was about 
 to be held. " I entreat you all, keep to the Lord's 
 eternal power and wisdom in the exercise of all 
 your gifts in this Yearly Meeting, that Christ, your 
 heavenly Head, may rule and speak through all, and 
 carry on that glorious work which he hath begun." 
 Before losing sight of the shores of England James 
 Dickenson was cheered by the assurance, graciously 
 afforded him, that he should be engaged in his Lord's 
 service that day eight weeks in America. And such 
 was the case, though many other vessels of the 
 fleet did not arrive until more than three weeks later, 
 having encountered a violent storm. Many of the 
 meetings were attended by large numbers. James 
 Dickenson writes : " We declared, in all plainness, 
 that a profession of the truth would stand them in 
 no stead except they lived in the life thereof, and 
 waited to Teel the power of Christ working in them 
 to the changing of their hearts ; and knew Him to be 
 a mediator and interceder for them to the Father." 
 
 On one occasion James Dickenson had an interest- 
 ing conversation with an Indian who could speak 
 English, and who came to the house of the Friend 
 with whom he was staying ; he said that he did not 
 know God, yet when asked whether, after he had 
 told a lie, sworn, or done wrong to any one, he did 
 not feel something which showed him that he ought 
 not to do so, he laid his hand with deep seriousness 
 on his breast, and said, " Yes, I know it very well." 
 After James Dickenson had made some remarks to 
 him on this subject, the Indian asked what made 
 
270 JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Englishmen swear when they knew that God was 
 near ; and said that in his own language there were 
 
 y no words for swearing. 
 
 Several Meetings in Chester County were visited 
 
 _^ by James Dickenson, where he met with many 
 persons who had left the Society of Friends and 
 became followers of George Keith. " I was enabled,'* 
 he says, " to vindicate our ancient Testimony con- 
 cerning our faith in Jesus Christ ; declaring to them 
 that we believed in Him as being the only begotten 
 Son of God ; who in the fulness of time took flesh, 
 became perfect man according to the flesh ; descended 
 and came of the seed of Abraham and David, but 
 was miraculously conceived by the Holy Ghost and 
 born of the Virgin Mary ; yet powerfully owned to 
 be the Son of God according to the spirit of sancti- 
 fication by the resurrection from the dead. And that 
 as man, Christ died for our sins, rose again, and was 
 received up into glory in the heavens, having fulfilled 
 the law and the prophets, and put an end to the first 
 priesthood, is a priest for ever, not after the order of 
 Aaron, but of Melchisedec ; and ever lives to make 
 intercession to His Father, not for our sins only, but 
 far the sins of the whole world." This he spoke of 
 as being the faith of the Quakers the world over. 
 
 The Yearly Meeting at Burlington, which he after- 
 wards attended, was a very blessed one, notwithstand- 
 ing the attempts at disturbance made by the Separa- 
 tists. Whilst James Dickenson was preaching they 
 cried out that the Light he spoke of was nothing but 
 an idol and a frozen light. To which he replied 
 that it was no other but Christ Jesus, the true light 
 
 / 
 
JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 27I 
 
 which lighteth every man that cometh into the world.* 
 Among many other very satisfactory meetings, those 
 held on Long Island maybe mentioned. Several who 
 attended them were convinced of the truth of the 
 doctrines which they heard ; and a justice of the 
 peace and a captain in the army gave up their com- 
 missions because they could no longer take an oath, 
 or fight. The last meeting in Pennsylvania was held 
 at Concord, and was remarkably blessed by the Lord. 
 
 During this tarriance in America, as in the previous 
 visit, many hardships were undergone by James 
 Dickenson, and the homeward voyage was an adven- 
 turous one ; but his heart was filled with gratitude 
 to God for His protection from inward and outward 
 danger, and with a stronger conviction than ever that 
 ** He is worthy to be followed and obeyed in all His 
 requirings. 
 
 A year or two after his return he wrote an epistle 
 to the Frien'ds in America, a few extracts from which 
 follow : — 
 
 ** My spirit and life are often with you in my secret 
 retirement unto the Lord. . . . His hand is full of bless- 
 ings to be poured down upon you if you give Him not 
 occasion to withhold them from you by letting your minds 
 wander from Him. . . . Stir up one another to love and 
 good works ; and that those whom God hath trusted with 
 heavenly gifts may all improve them to His glory. And 
 stir up one another to visit remote parts that want help, as 
 Virginia,Carolina, New England, Barbadoes, Jamaica, &c., 
 
 • " Believing in Christ's inward and spiritual appearance does not 
 in the least lessen or depreciate the value of the redeeming act of 
 universal love, the Propitiatory Sacrifice of the dear Son of God with- 
 out the gates of Jerusalem, and His there bearing our sins in His own 
 body on the tree. On the contrary it greatly enhances the value 
 thereof.— Eduf. Alexander. 
 
272 JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 and let all be done in the love of God. So will he He 
 bless you with spiritual blessings in His Son Jesus Christ ; 
 in whom I dearly salute you all, letting you know I am 
 well every way." 
 
 Early in 1699 James Dickenson again visited Scot- 
 land, having for his companion Jonathan Burnyeat, 
 a child not much more than twelve years old; he 
 naturally felt much concern on behalf of his little 
 friend who — he need scarcely have told us — had not 
 travelled as a minister before. But Jonathan Burn- 
 yeat seems to have been — in almost the literal sense 
 of the word — one of the babes to whom the Lord of 
 heaven and earth sees fit to reveal those things which 
 are hidden from the wise and prudent; for James 
 Dickenson says : " My companion was deeply opened 
 into the mysteries of God's kingdom, and grew in 
 his gift so as to give counsel to young and old. . . . 
 The Lord was kind to us, and bore up our spirits in 
 all our exercises. We had many precious meetings, 
 and were deeply bowed under a sense of the Lord's 
 favour to us." Probably James Dickenson often 
 recalled the time when his young companion's 
 father, John Burnyeat, had been a tender and sympa- 
 thising counsellor to himself. Five years later they 
 again travelled together, "in sweet brotherly love," 
 through Yorkshire and Lincolnshire ; and not long 
 afterwards united in a religious visit to Ireland. 
 And before Jonathan Burnyeat's early death he 
 was James Dickenson's associate on a few shorter 
 journeys. 
 
 In 1700 James Dickenson suffered from a very 
 dangerous illness. After alluding to God's gracious 
 
JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 273 
 
 dealings with him by " His secret hand," during this 
 time of trial, he adds: " My eye was unto the Lord 
 Jesus, in whom my justification remained, and I 
 found peace. . . . The sense of it at that time was 
 very comfortable, and engaged me to be given up to 
 follow Him faithfully unto the end." In the summer 
 of the following year he found that the Lord had 
 further work for him in Scotland, where he met with 
 Samuel Bownas and another young Friend, who were 
 also engaged in holding meetings, and for a short 
 time they all travelled together. James Dickenson's 
 affectionate counsel was very helpful to his young 
 and inexperienced associates, who had many doubts 
 and fears with regard to the right accomplishment 
 of their mission. Samuel Bownas was exceedingly 
 comforted when James Dickenson told them how 
 weak and poor he often felt. At Dumfries he said 
 to them : " Lads, I find a concern to go into the 
 streets ; wifl you go with me ? " The people were 
 very quiet whilst James Dickenson — as Samuel 
 Bownas says — " lifted up his voice like a trumpet 
 amongst them," most earnestly warning them to 
 repent and turn to the Lord. 
 
 One of James Dickenson's twelve visits to Ireland 
 followed this journey in Scotland. He gives no 
 details of his numerous Gospel labours and travels 
 from 1704 to 1713. The peace which was granted 
 him as he willingly obeyed the voice of the Good 
 Shepherd was a continual encouragement to perse- 
 verance in following Him. And he says that his wife 
 and himself truly found that godliness is profitable 
 unto all things. 
 
 T 
 
274 JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 '* We were encouraged [he writes] to follow the Lord 
 fully, and Iceep to His eternal power that had prevailed 
 over us; and the more our eyes were kept to Him, the 
 greater necessity we found of the help of His Holy Spirit 
 to keep us in our way heavenwards, knowing that with- 
 out Him we could do nothing, and seeing our infirmities 
 to be great, we were made to magnify that arm which is 
 strong, and as near to help His people as ever. Those 
 who are alive to God know it. . . . He is still faithful in 
 fulfilling His promises, and whatever they ask in His 
 name He gives them ; such are bound in duty to return 
 to Him thanksgiving and glory." 
 
 During one of James Dickenson's Scottish mis- 
 sions he met with a remarkable adventure. He was 
 travelling with another Friend named Jane Fearon 
 (the wife of his friend Peter Fearon), when on a very 
 rough and rainy day, as evening drew on, he observed 
 a lonely roadside public-house, where, as they were 
 wet and weary, they thought that it would be best to 
 spend the night. Their Gaelic guide, as well as his 
 imperfect English would allow him, tried to dissuade 
 them from doing this, and when he found that he 
 could not induce them to go on to another halting- 
 place, refused to remain with them. They had a 
 civil and attentive reception from the people of the 
 house, but notwithstanding this the minds of the 
 travellers were soon disturbed by terrible fears which 
 they did not at once communicate to each other. 
 Jane Fearon's courage still further failed her when she 
 heard one of the men say, ' ' They have good horses and 
 bags " ; and another reply, ** Aye, and good clothes ! " 
 As soon as James Dickenson and herself were 
 alone together she burst into tears, and exclaimed, 
 " I fear these people have a design to take our lives." 
 
JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 275 
 
 James Dickenson, who was walking up and down 
 the room — whilst his heart, we may feel sure, was 
 uplifted to God — did not at once answer her. When 
 he spoke he said, " They have mischief in their 
 hearts, but I hope the Lord will preserve our lives," 
 He tried to cheer her by other remarks : then, after 
 being again silent for a time, he once more expressed 
 his hope that God would deliver them, adding, " But 
 if so, we must run." *'Alas!" was Jane Fearon's 
 disconsolate reply, " how can we run, or whither 
 can we go ? " 
 
 Taking a careful survey of the room, with a candle 
 in his hand, James Dickenson found a second door, 
 on opening which he saw a flight of stone, back stairs 
 on the outside of the house. Leaving the candle 
 burning in the room, after taking off their shoes they 
 noiselessly descended the steps, and then ran until, 
 at a considerable distance from the public-house, they 
 reached an outbuilding, which they • entered. But 
 soon James Dickenson said, " We are not safe here, 
 we must run again." Jane Fearon answered that she 
 was so weary that she did not think she could go any 
 farther. However, as her friend thought it essential 
 that they should quit this spot, they did so, hastening 
 on until they came to a river, which they soon dis- 
 covered was crossed by a bridge ; they were about to 
 go over it when James Dickenson felt this would not 
 be the right course for them to pursue, and that it 
 would be safer to go farther up the bank. Then they 
 sat down to rest, but soon James Dickenson said, 
 ** We are not safe here, we must wade through the 
 replied his companion, ** how can 
 
276 JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 we cross it, and know not its depth ? It will be 
 better for them to take our lives than for us to drown 
 ourselves." The swollen river was safely passed 
 over, and soon after this had been accomplished, 
 while the fugitfves were seated on a sandbank, 
 James Dickenson remarked that he did not yet feel 
 easy, and believed that they ought to go farther on. 
 " Well, I must go by thy faith," was Jane Fearon's 
 answer. 
 
 Before long they saw another sandbank containing 
 a cavity, and soon James Dickenson said, " I am now 
 easy, and believe that we are perfectly safe, and feel 
 in my heart a song of thanksgiving and praise." But 
 his companion's faith was far from being as strong ; 
 and when they heard voices on the other side of the 
 river — fearing that her terror might cause her to 
 make an outcry — he gently said, " Our lives depend 
 upon our silence." It was plain that the voices were 
 those of their pursuers, for the words, " Seek them, 
 Keeper," were frequently heard. Apparently the dog 
 had led them as far as the bridge — but not over it — 
 as he naturally followed the scent of the footsteps 
 along the river side until he lost it at the spot where 
 -the travellers had crossed. They now saw the people, 
 who carried a lantern, and heard one of them suggest 
 that they had crossed the river; to which another made 
 answer, " That's impossible unless the devil took them 
 over, for the river is brimful." For some time they 
 continued their search, and then left the place. 
 
 In the light of the early morning the Friends no- 
 ticed a man on a high hill looking around in every 
 direction, who, they imagined, was endeavouring to 
 
JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 277 
 
 discover their hiding-place. On examination they^ 
 found that the position of the hollow in which they 
 had taken refuge was such as to prevent them from 
 being observed from the opposite side of the river ; 
 whilst the sandbank on which they had first sat down 
 could be plainly seen, and would have been a most 
 unsafe retreat. They now began to think of their 
 horses and saddle-bags, and Jane Fearon proposed 
 that they should go on to a town and make known 
 their case. But James Dickenson reminded her that 
 they could give no positive proof of the guilty inten- 
 tions of the inhabitants of the public-house, and 
 moreover, that such a course might give the magis- 
 trates an excuse for imprisoning the accusers instead 
 of the accused. " I incline," he added, *' to return 
 to the house, fully believing our clothes and bags 
 will be ready for us without our being asked a ques- 
 tion, and that the people we saw last night we shall 
 see no more." 
 
 Not sharing her fellow-traveller's faith (which was, ly- 
 it seems, marvellously manifested at this juncture), 
 Jane Fearon said that she dared not go back, but 
 consented to do so when James Dickenson added, 
 ** Thou mayst safely, for I have seen that which never ' 
 failed me.*' Doubtless he felt perfect confidence in fol- 
 lowing the " still " and " small," though well-known 
 voice of the Heavenly Shepherd — the • gentlest 
 whispers of which, long-continued listening and con- 
 stant obedience had caused him to easily to recog- 
 nise.* On arriving at the inn, they found their 
 
 • *• Assuredly the New Testament does place the Christian Churph 
 
278 JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 clothes ready for them, and the horses in the stable 
 with the saddle-bags on them, but the only person 
 visible was an old woman sitting by the fire, whom 
 they did not recollect seeing on the previous night ; 
 having paid her what they owed they continued their 
 journey. 
 
 When James Dickenson afterwards visited that 
 neighbourhood, he learned that, some suspicion 
 having been awakened respecting this house, a search 
 had been made, which resulted in the discovery of a 
 large quantity of wearing apparel and a great number 
 of human bones ! The house was pulled down and 
 seme of its inhabitants were executed. 
 
 In the autumn of 1713, he joined Thomas Wilson 
 at Dublin, in order to undertake his third visit to 
 America. His deep sense of God's love made it easy 
 to do His will, for long experience had taught him 
 that— 
 
 " There is no blessedness but in such bondage; 
 Sure it is sweeter far than liberty." 
 
 In Carolina they were cheered by the reception 
 given to their message by many young Friends, whom 
 they trusted the Lord was preparing for His service ; 
 and also by meeting with those to whom their pre- 
 vious labours had been greatly blessed. Some of the 
 meetings in Pennsylvania were so large that several 
 
 under a dispensation of spiritual influence not common to those with- 
 out it, and does also make the individual's participation of such 
 influences proportionate to the measure of his faith, and love, and 
 obedience. . . . And assuredly there can be no logical line drawn 
 between the special and general communications of Divine influence. 
 . . . The experience of a Christianised soul — of a soul bared to all the 
 influences of God's special revelations — who shall limit, and who 
 shall define ? — Lectures on Great Men, by the lat€ Frederick Myers^ 
 Incumbent of St. John's, Keswick, 
 
JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 279 
 
 hundreds of people were obliged to stand out of doors. 
 A meeting, also at New Plymouth, was held under 
 the trees, on account of the great number present. 
 
 Somewhere in that crowd was a young English 
 girl, the depths of whose soul were stirred by the 
 ministry of Thomas Wilson ; her name was Jane 
 Hoskens, and she had been residing in America for 
 about two years. She had been brought up as a 
 member of the Church of England. During a severe 
 illness, and whilst in great mental distress, she had 
 felt ready to covenant with God that if He would pro- 
 long her life she would dedicate it to His service. Her 
 mind was deeply impressed with the conviction that 
 if He restored her to health it would be His will 
 that she should go to Pennsylvania. When about 
 eighteen she left England with a family who were 
 about to settle in Philadelphia. After passing through 
 many trials she went to New Plymouth, where she 
 was employed as governess by some families of 
 Friends. It was at first from a feeling of curiosity 
 that she attended their meetings ; but after a while 
 she was convinced that spiritual worship was a 
 blessed reality to many present, and this led her to 
 consider why it was not so with herself, for she had 
 supposed that she knew a great deal about religion. 
 And often these words came to her memory : — 
 *' In Christ Jesus neither circumcision availeth any- 
 thing, nor uncircumcision, but a new creature." 
 Her earnest prayers that the true way of salvation 
 might be shown her were answered, as again and 
 again, whilst sitting in meeting, the sermons which 
 she heard seemed as a message to tell her that the 
 
. 28o JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 way to the Father was through Christ, the Door, and 
 to turn her attention to the teaching of the Holy 
 Spirit. 
 
 But it was when quite alone that a sense of God's 
 loving forgiveness was granted her : then it was easy 
 to give up many things at her Saviour's bidding, for 
 she loved Him more than her own life. One day 
 whilst in meeting these words seemed to be spoken in 
 her heart : " I have chosen thee a vessel from thy 
 youth to serve me, and to preach the gospel of salva- 
 tion to many people ; if thou wilt be faithful, I will 
 be with thee unto the end of time, and make thee an 
 heir of my kingdom." She was for some time un- 
 willing to give heed to this call, and deep conflicts 
 were her portion ; but when she yielded her will to 
 God, He was her shield and exceeding great reward. 
 In Thomas Wilson's ministry on the day alluded to, 
 he said much with regard to the captive maid's service 
 to her Lord and Master (2 Kings, 2, 4), very power- 
 fully dwelling on the blessedness enjoyed by those 
 who have placed themselves under Christ's control. 
 Jane Hoskens was urged to dine at the house where 
 the English travellers were entertained. Thomas 
 Wilson looking earnestly at her, said, '* What young 
 woman is that ? She is like the little captive maid I 
 have been speaking of this day. May the God of my 
 life strengthen her : she will meet with sore trials, 
 but if she is faithful the Lord will fit her for His 
 y^ service. He is at work in her for good, and will 
 in His time bring her through all." Often in 
 future years did Jane Hoskens recall these words, 
 when she travelled extensively as a minister in 
 
JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 2S1 
 
 her adopted land, and twice in England and 
 Ireland. 
 
 When James Dickenson and Thomas Wilson were 
 at Burlington Yearly Meeting, the concourse of people 
 was so great that two meetings were held at the same 
 time, the Court-house being made use of for one of 
 them. From Oxford, in Maryland, they sailed for 
 Liverpool; to their great disappointment the captain 
 .of the vessel refused to allow them time to attend the 
 meeting at Oxford, before sailing. That night there 
 was a great storm, which lasted for several days, 
 during which the vessel sprung a leak, and, being 
 soon afterwards becalmed, was in great danger. The 
 Friends poured forth earnest prayers for deliverance ; 
 and the next day a south wind arose, and the ship 
 safely ran into Lynhaven Bay. They again went on 
 shore, and spent many weeks in holding meetings in 
 Virginia, Maryland, &c. When travelling through 
 this region 'twenty-two years earlier, they had no 
 guide for a hundred miles, and slept in the woods ; 
 yet faith was given them to believe that the Lord 
 would exalt His truth there. Now they found their 
 hopes, in part, fulfilled, and were firmly persuaded 
 that God would carry on His work to His own glory. 
 Many Friends rendered them what aid they could 
 during these renewed labours, which appear to have 
 been much blessed. 
 
 Soon after his return from America in 1715, James 
 Dickenson attended the London Yearly Meeting, and 
 writes of these assemblies being '* crowned with the 
 Lord's living presence," and of hearts filled with 
 the joy of His salvation. Two years later he visited 
 
282 JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 many parts of England. In allusion to Bristol, he 
 writes : — 
 
 *' My exercise was great that all might be sensible of 
 the work of the Lord to sanctify and fit them for His 
 kingdom. I saw the fields ripe unto harvest, which was 
 great, and the faithful labourers therein were but few. 
 My cries went forth unto the Lord that He would fit 
 many and send them forth into His harvest. He was 
 near to answer and to bow the spirits of many under the 
 operation of His hand ; of which I was glad under a 
 sense of His great love to mankind." 
 
 When not engaged in religious journeys he dili- 
 gently attended to his business. In 1722 he went to 
 Ireland in company with John Urwen, who was a 
 very powerful minister, and singularly useful also in 
 other labours for the Lord, at whose disposal he had 
 placed his great natural talents.* At Edenderry 
 James Dickenson had the pleasure of staying at the 
 house of his beloved friend Thomas Wilson, and says 
 that they " were sweetly refreshed together in the 
 enjoyment of God's love," and that they parted in 
 much tenderness. Probably this was their last in- 
 terview on earth, as Thomas Wilson died early in 
 1725. One evening during his last illness, when 
 several Friends were in his room, he spoke very 
 sweetly of the evidence God had granted him, — 
 "That a great harvest-day was coming over the 
 nations, and that the Lord was fitting, and would fit 
 
 * On his death-bed, when eighty-six years of age, John Urwen 
 remarked, that if he had his life to live over again, he did not well 
 know how to do better. At first one reads these words with sur- 
 prise ; but, on deeper consideration, do they not seem to bear the 
 stamp of a genuine humility ? The assurance that the work had 
 been well done — being such as a trustful child might feel, not- 
 withstanding its helplessness, from the simple consciousness that it 
 had been implicitly carrying out the directions of a wise Father. 
 
JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 283 
 
 many, and send them into the harvest." He said 
 he was comforted in feeling that " Friends were in- 
 ward with the Lord in their spirits," and remarked 
 on how closely their hearts had been drawn together 
 in the beginning, trusting that such nearness and 
 unity might continue and increase, and that they 
 might " dwell in humility and keep low." He gave 
 God all the glory for the blessing which had emi- 
 nently crowned his labours, saying : '' Although the 
 Lord hath made use of me at times to be serviceable 
 in His hand, what I trust in is the mercy of God 
 in Jesus Christ." 
 
 After returning from Ireland, James Dickenson, 
 accompanied by another Friend, travelled through 
 the Western Counties, from Lancashire to Cornwall. 
 Their labour being, he says, '' to turn people to the 
 Lord and settle them on his teachings." At the York 
 Quarterly Meeting in 1726 he spoke of how ex- 
 tremely important it was that particulars should be 
 preserved — foY the benefit of future generations — of the 
 persecutions and deep trials which Friends had 
 undergone for the cause of Christ, as well as of the 
 wonders which He had wrought for their deliverance. 
 When he laid this matter, which had long rested on 
 his mind, before the next Yearly Meeting in London, 
 to his great satisfaction an arrangement was made 
 for the carrying out of the proposition. Later in the 
 year we find him, as usual, labouring as God enabled 
 him ** to gather people to the teachings of His Holy 
 Spirit." He has left no record of his journeyings to 
 the Yearly Meeting, and to many parts of England, 
 after the year 1727. 
 
 u- 
 
284 JAMES DICKENSON AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 About twelve months before his death his speech 
 was much affected by palsy, yet he was able occasion- 
 ally to tell those around him — as they might well 
 have believed had no words been spoken — that ''God, 
 whom he had served, was still with him, and that he 
 had the evidence of peace and future felicity sealed 
 upon his soul." 
 
 For about sixty-five years he was engaged in the 
 ministry. He died in 1741, when in his eighty-third 
 year, at Moorside, in his native county. "There 
 are," writes Dora Greenwell, " many gains, many 
 losses in Christ, over and above that great, inap- 
 preciable loss of the salvation of the soul in Him. 
 We are made poor by what we miss as well as by what 
 we lose." And why should not the least child 
 of the household of God commit himself, as com- 
 pletely and confidingly as James Dickenson did, to the 
 discipline, the control, the care, and the love of His 
 Father in Heaven ? that thus, in God's good time, 
 he also may have the blessedness of knowing for 
 himself that, " as the mountains are round about 
 Jerusalem, so the Lord is round about His people, from 
 henceforth even for ever." 
 
 '* For of a new Jerusalem 
 Sons are we all : 
 Round us are mightier towers, 
 A brighter heaven above : 
 
 O, be the Lord's, as He is ours. 
 In faithful love." 
 
28=^ 
 
 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 " We could not be satisfied without the sure, inward, Divine 
 knowledge of God and Christ, and the enjoyment of those comforts 
 the Scriptures declared of, which true believers enjoyed in the 
 primitive times."— William Edmundson. 
 
 'HThe common discourse of all sorts of people was 
 of the Quakers, and various reports were of them ; 
 the priests everywhere were angry against them, and 
 the baser sort of people spared not to tell strange 
 stories of them ; but the more I heard of them the 
 more I loved them." Thus writes William Edmund- 
 son, in allusion to the year 1651, when he was about 
 the age of twenty-four, and employed as a soldier in 
 the Parliamentary army. Although unable to become 
 acquainted with Friends, he says that when he heard 
 of them a fe'rvent yearning that the Lord would show 
 him the way of righteousness arose once more in his 
 heart. 
 
 He was born in 1627, at little Musgrove, in West- 
 moreland, and was left an orphan at an early age. 
 The uncle to whose care he was confided was unjust 
 and harsh ; probably William Edmundson felt no 
 regret when leaving him, in order to be apprenticed 
 to a carpenter and joiner at York, where at that time 
 there seems to have been a religious awakening. 
 William Edmundson's heart now became sorely 
 troubled with Calvinistic perplexities, and with the 
 unanswered question, " What shall I do to be saved ? " 
 One day he was so overcome by his feelings whilst 
 
286 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 sitting in church that he attracted the attention of 
 both the clergyman and congregation, yet no one told 
 him clearly of the Lamb of God which taketh away 
 the sin of the world. 
 
 When in Scotland under Oliver Cromwell, in 1650, 
 *' The Lord," as he says, '* began afresh " with him : 
 at one time he would be brought very low, feeling 
 deep condemnation for the life he was leading, and at 
 another his heart would be so touched by the mercies 
 of God as to cause him to shed tears of joy. And 
 yet, strange to say, he knew not Who it was that thus 
 dealt with him, nor did any of the high professors of 
 religion whom he met with in the army enlighten him 
 on this point. Sometimes, as he lay down in his tent 
 at night and thought of the imminent peril to which 
 his life had been exposed, he would resolve to repent 
 and turn over a new leaf. But too often he allowed 
 all serious considerations to be driven away by the 
 active service in which he was engaged ; and although 
 after the battle of Worcester he was conscience- 
 smitten anew by the Lord's mercy in preserving his 
 life, he not only rejected this visitation to his soul, 
 but even made light of it. Yet that love which all 
 day long stretches forth its hands unto the disobe- 
 dient and gainsaying, followed him still, awakening 
 in the reckless young soldier a deep interest in the 
 scoffed-at and sneered-at Quakers, and a simulta- 
 neous desire to be shown the path of life. 
 
 In the following year he left the army and married. 
 He had intended to settle in Derbyshire as a shop- 
 keeper, but was persuaded by one of brothers to 
 take up his abode in Ireland, whither he went, pro- 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 287 
 
 mising himself " great matters and religion besides ! " 
 Much disappointment, however, awaited him on his 
 arrival at Dublin with his wife, servant and merchan- 
 dise. He had expected that some preparations for 
 the opening of his business would have been made 
 by his brother ; but instead of realising this hope he 
 learned that the company to which his brother be- 
 longed had been ordered to the north of Ireland. 
 William Edmundson was strongly urged to remain 
 in Dublin, where it seemed probable that a very suc- 
 cessful trade might be carried on ; this proposal he 
 declined, and afterwards believed that he was pre- 
 vented from accepting it by an unseen Hand, which 
 thus preserved him from being ** laden with riches 
 as thick clay, and thereby hindered from the Lord's 
 service." In after years he would often express his 
 opinion that " the too-eager pursuit of the riches and 
 greatness of this world was the chief engine the 
 enemy had wherewith to hurt us." And in a letter 
 to his friend William Ellis he writes, " The love 
 of the greatness and riches of this world, and the 
 earnest pursuit after them, is a surfeiting weed, and 
 surfeits those noble parts in a man which otherwise 
 are capable of serving the Lord." 
 
 On leaving Dublin William Edmundson took a 
 house at Antrim, where his brother was then 
 stationed, and after selling the goods he had brought 
 with him, returned to England for a fresh stock. 
 Whilst with his relations in the North he heard that 
 James Naylor was going to hold a meeting, and still 
 retaining his loving interest in Friends, and strong 
 desire to have some intercourse with them, he at- 
 
288 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 tended it, accompanied by his eldest brother and 
 another relative. He thus describes this epoch in 
 his life : — 
 
 " We were all three convinced of the Lord's blessed 
 truth. Then I knew it was the Lord's hand that had been 
 striving with me for a long time. . . . Now being turned 
 to a measure of the Lord's Spirit manifested in my heart, 
 I knew it was the truth that led into all truth, agreeable 
 to the Holy Scriptures of the law and prophets, Christ 
 and His Apostles ; and I thought all that heard it de- 
 clared must needs own it, it was so plain to me. A few 
 \ days after the Lord's power seized upon me through His 
 Spirit, whereby I was brought under great exercise of 
 mind. . . . But I loved the Lord's judgments." 
 
 On the return voyage he was assailed with the 
 temptation to land his goods without paying duty. 
 This caused, he says, " a great contest betwixt con- 
 science and self, and many Scriptures were opened to 
 my understanding, and self struggled hard for 
 mastery, yet at last was overthrown." When he 
 arrived at home his brother came to the door to meet 
 him, and, seeing that some great change had come 
 over him, was so much impressed by it that, on re- 
 entering the house, he sat down in silence. William 
 Edmundson, whose wife no doubt was also present, 
 tells us that he was " much broken in the power of 
 the Lord before them," and adds that his brother 
 " received the truth and joined with it." 
 
 On going back to Carrickfergus for his goods, he 
 was told that they would be seized unless he would 
 take an oath to the correctness of his bills of parcels. 
 But though only beginning to apprehend the value of 
 the Pearl of great price, he felt that it was worth 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 289 
 
 selling all for ; so he told the officers that he could 
 not swear because it was contrary to the command- 
 ments of Christ, which seems to have been altogether 
 a new idea to them. It led to a good deal of talk 
 about Quakers in general, and William Edmundson 
 in particular ; but after delay and opposition he 
 obtained an order to bring his goods to the Custom 
 House. 
 
 A time of deep trial, described by himself as " a 
 great war and conflict betwixt flesh and spirit," was 
 soon his portion. None of those around him could 
 understand what ailed him, or afford him any com- 
 fort. Sleep forsook him, and in his solitude of soul 
 he longed for the fellowship of some one who had 
 trodden such a path before him. Meanwhile it was 
 rumoured that he was either bewitched or losing his 
 reason. One day his wife told him that, whilst he had 
 been out, a stranger from England, named Miles 
 Bousfield, Had called and said much in favour of 
 Friends, and of his great pleasure at the prospect of 
 becoming acquainted with William Edmundson. The 
 latter, not foreseeing the disappointment awaiting 
 him, took his horse and rode a distance of twelve 
 miles to the house were Miles Bousfield was staying, 
 and spent the night with him. Silently and heedfuUy 
 William Edmundson listened to his plentiful discourse 
 on the work of God by His Spirit, and also to his 
 advice to be " cheerful and merry, and not look at the 
 inward troubles that bowed him down." But such 
 counsel could not availingly comfort him, as it was 
 altogether premature ; for, according to his own con- 
 fession, whilst loving the truth he would fain have had 
 
 U 
 
290 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 it without abandoning worldly pleasures and profits. 
 When at the end of a week he found himself in even 
 a worse state than before, some fresh ability was 
 given him to apply to the Physician who " maketh 
 sore and bindeth up." He writes : — " I was weak 
 but the Lord's strength was perfect in weakness, and 
 His Spirit and power increased in me through 
 obedience to the Cross of Christ, wherein I was daily 
 exercised, and thereby grew into acquaintance with 
 the Lord's work to make me a vessel for His 
 purpose." 
 
 In the spring of the following year he removed 
 with his family to the County of Armagh, where he 
 took a house and opened a shop. He became aware 
 that his conduct was narrowly watched by those 
 who wished to oppose the doctrines he upheld, and 
 he was often sorely tried. His business at first 
 suffered from his keeping to one price in the sale of 
 his goods, and he was persecuted for his demeanour 
 as a Friend. Deep inward suffering was also his 
 portion, and yet he writes : — " Sometimes, when the 
 Lord's hand would be easy with me, I would be 
 afraid lest He should withdraw His hand ; then my 
 desires were to the Lord not to slacken His hand, 
 but to search me thoroughly; for His judgments 
 were become sweet to my taste, which He many 
 times mixed with springs of mercy, to my joy and 
 comfort." 
 
 At this time he was twenty-seven years of age, 
 and twice a week a meeting was held in his house, 
 consisting of himself, his wife and brother, and, 
 after a while, of four others ; often these seasons of 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 29I 
 
 Avaiting on God were times of refreshing from His 
 presence. In the following year a Friend named 
 John Tiffin paid a religious visit to Ireland, and 
 William Edmundson thought it right to travel with 
 him. As they made their appearance at fairs, &c., 
 there was pretty much questioning on the tenets of 
 Friends, about whom so many false stories had been 
 circulated, in order to arouse prejudice, that the 
 travellers even found it difficult to obtain a lodging. 
 John Tiffin longed, we find, " to get an entrance for 
 Truth " in Belfast, where many of the inhabitants 
 made a high religious profession, yet " ears, doors, 
 and hearts " were alike closed against an uncom- 
 promising setting-forth of Christianity in, what a 
 modern writer styles, its *' objective reality." One 
 day, therefore, accompanied by William Edmundson 
 and his brother, he went to a part of the high road 
 not far from the town, where three lanes met, and 
 there sat down to hold a meeting. " People came 
 about us," writes William Edmundson, " we were 
 a wonder to them, and something was spoken to 
 direct their minds to God's Spirit in their own 
 hearts." 
 
 Thus, though in much weakness and fear, they 
 "spread the name and fame of Truth, and the 
 minds of many honest people began to inquire after 
 it." William Edmundson now found, he says, that 
 ^'the Lord's power and Spirit" influenced him to 
 express a little in meetings. " Several," he adds, 
 "gathered to our meetings, were convinced, and re- 
 ceived the Truth. So we got meetings in several 
 places, there being a great openness among people." 
 
292 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 Many were to be the seals to his ministry of fifty- 
 seven years' duration. We are told that, though 
 *' bold as a lion," he bore persecution with " a lamb- 
 like spirit ; " and, whilst zealous in his care of the 
 churches and valiant for the cause of Christ, he was 
 also " a confirmer of the doubtful and sympathiser 
 with the mournful." A Friend, who had known him 
 for thirty years, writes of him as one of the first 
 instruments in the hands of God in that day in Ire- 
 land, turning the thoughts of the people to *' the 
 marvellous and inshining light of Jesus Christ, the 
 glorious Son of Righteousness." He also alludes to 
 his great concern to " stir up those the Lord had 
 gifted, to answer their respective services ; " and 
 describes him as " a man of undaunted spirit, grave, 
 meek, free from affectation, and fit to stand before 
 princes." Another Friend writes of " his incessant 
 labours and travels both by sea and land, to gather 
 to Christ, and that the churches gathered might be 
 rooted and grounded in Him ; " and mentions one 
 especial occasion when a deep impression was made 
 by his ministry, and when he had himself remarked 
 that on " that morning the Word of the Lord burned 
 - 4n him as a fire." 
 
 About the time that William Edmundson first 
 spoke in meetings he felt a strong desire to meet 
 with George Fox, whom he had never seen. Accord- 
 ingly he went to England, and met with him at 
 Badgeley, where a very large meeting of Friends 
 from various towns was held. When it was over he 
 went up to George Fox, and they withdrew to an 
 _prchard, where the latter knelt in prayer ; he dealt 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 293 
 
 tenderly with his inexperienced companion, who felt 
 that the interview was hallowed by the presence and 
 power of the Lord. 
 
 During the same year William Edmundson went 
 with his brother to transact some business at a fair 
 at Antrim, and, not being able to leave until a late 
 hour, they proposed to spend the night at a place 
 called Glenavy. But before arriving there William 
 Edmundson felt a strong conviction that his shop 
 was in danger of being robbed, and consequently 
 resolved to return home without delay. Yet a little 
 while after they had left Glenavy, he believed that 
 a heavenly intimation was given him, that the Lord 
 had need of him at Clough. No wonder that in 
 this perplexity he should feel what he terms " a fear 
 of a wrong spirit." He earnestly prayed for guidance, 
 and was answered by the belief afforded him that 
 the influence which now drew him back would also 
 save his shop. The night was, after all, spent at 
 Glenavy, but William Edmundson's doubts in rela- 
 tion to the course he was taking prevented him from 
 obtaining much sleep. Towards the evening of the 
 next day he arrived at Clough, and rode up to an inn 
 where he found that two Friends, who were ministers 
 from England, were lodging; one of them, Anne 
 Gould, was ill, having undergone much hardship 
 whilst travelling on foot. She was in a despairing 
 state of mind, being tempted to fear that God had 
 forsaken her, but when she heard that William Ed- 
 mundson — whom she knew by report — was come, 
 her heart was cheered ; he at once saw why he had 
 been guided to Clough, and did not hesitate to tell 
 
294 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 the Friends that he had been brought there " by the 
 good hand of God — led as a horse by the bridle."' 
 With great thankfulness and joy they received his- 
 visit ; Anne Gould was enabled to see that her 
 trial was in reality a grievous temptation, and was 
 delivered from it. On his return home, William 
 Edmundson found that, during the night he had 
 spent at Glenavy, his shop-window had been broken 
 in, but had fallen with so much noise as to awaken 
 the inmates of the house and drive the robbers away 
 for fear of detection. 
 
 We now frequently find William Edmundson going 
 from place to place to publish the truths which he^ 
 held dear; he often encountered harsh usage, yet 
 some Friends' meetings were established. At Armagh 
 he was imprisoned in a little room in the house of 
 the gaoler, who did not find it pleasant work tcv hold 
 this prisoner of the Lord ; and his wife would some- 
 times exclaim that William Edmundson's presence 
 was a torment to her — though he was quite silent. 
 During this confinement he was taken ill, but arose 
 from his bed to have a discussion with a Presbyterian 
 minister, some elders, and two colonels. Notwith- 
 standing their strong opposition to him, they went 
 quietly away when it was over, for he says his heart 
 and tongue were " full of the word of Life to declare 
 the way of Truth to them " : he adds that in the 
 midst of that morning's work the Lord healed him 
 of his illness. 
 
 One of these disputants was a Colonel Cunning- 
 ham, who was Chairman of the County Sessions, 
 and, being a ready talker, he renewed the controversy 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 295 
 
 when William Edmundson was brought before him 
 and the other justices. The prisoner would willingly 
 have avoided this, but, being unable to do so, a close 
 argument followed, in which his antagonist was 
 thoroughly worsted. Annoyed at this defeat, in the 
 presence of a large assembly from the surrounding 
 country, he grew angry, and began to threaten Wil- 
 liam Edmundson ; but another justice arose, and, 
 remarking on the unfairness of such conduct, told 
 him that if he would dispute, he must do it on equal 
 terms and lay aside his authorit3^ He spoke also 
 with approval of what had been expressed by Wil- 
 liam Edmundson, and it was soon decided that he 
 should be set free ; indeed the Bench seemed to be 
 somewhat ashamed of his commitment. 
 
 Soon afterwards William Edmundson thought it 
 his duty to give up his shop, and take a farm, in order, 
 he says, to " be an example in the testimony against 
 tithes." riis brother and several other Friends with 
 their families accompanied him to the county of 
 Cavan, where many were added to their number and 
 new meetings were opened. Their living was hard, 
 and their bedding straw — whilst they were vigorously 
 persecuted for the non-payment of tithes. Yet the 
 peace of God was their portion, *' For," writes Wil- 
 liam Edmundson, " In those days the world and the 
 things of it were not near our hearts, but the love 
 of God and His Truth lived in our hearts. We were 
 glad of one another's welfare in the Lord, and His 
 love dwelt in us." 
 
 He now felt that the time was come for him to pay 
 a religious visit to other counties, going — to quote 
 
296 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 his own words — '' from place to place as the Lord's 
 good Spirit guided." We read of two troopers being 
 ''convinced," and coming to meetings; and of a 
 sojourn at Belturbet where the provost of the town, 
 bringing a rough company, broke up a solemn meet- 
 ing, and sent both men and women to prison, where 
 the latter suffered much from the extreme cold. In 
 the morning, after liberating the other Friends, he 
 had William Edmundson placed in stocks in the 
 market place, and thus unwittingly afforded him an 
 excellent opportunity for addressing the people as- 
 sembled there, who, thronging around this unusual 
 pulpit, listened gravely and feelingly to the perse- 
 cuted stranger. 
 
 Nor did they hesitate to censure the provost for 
 his conduct; one of them — a mere boy, Robert 
 Wardel by name — telling him to his face that he had 
 set a better man than himself in the stocks ! We 
 cannot wonder that this speech was the cause of 
 soon finding him in a similar position by William 
 Edmundson's side. He was quickly released, as his 
 father threatened the provost with the law ; but that 
 day was an epoch in his life, for his heart had been 
 reached by the truths taught and exemplified by the 
 strange preacher; he boldly joined the new sect, and 
 in after years himself became a minister, and in that 
 capacity travelled in Great Britain, Germany, Hol- 
 land, and America. 
 
 After a while William Edmundson was summoned 
 to the Court-house, before the governor of the 
 garrison, the officers, and some of the chief inhabi- 
 ants of the town. The clerk read Cromwell's 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 297 
 
 declaration that all should be protected in their 
 religion who " owned God the Creator of all things, 
 and Christ Jesus the Saviour of men, and the Scrip- 
 tures," &c., &c. William Edmundson was then 
 desired to answer to the various points : after he had 
 done so, the governor and his companions decided 
 that the Friends and their religion were under pro- 
 tection. William Edmundson did not abstain from 
 appealing to those present that they could bear wit- 
 ness how long his friends and himself had been 
 illegally imprisoned, and how unjustly he had been 
 placed in the stocks. Nor did he hesitate to remind 
 them that the law gave amends in such cases. 
 Several gentlemen hereupon offered to be evidence if 
 he would go to law with the provost ; and the gover- 
 nor arose from his seat and taking his hand spoke of 
 his regret for the ill-treatment to which his com- 
 panions and himself had been subjected, assuring 
 him also that he had had no hand in the matter. To 
 these remarks William Edmundson replied by asking 
 where he had been during the last two days that he 
 did not appear with his band of soldiers to appease 
 the uproar ? *' My spirit," he writes, "was borne up 
 in the power of the Lord as upon the wings of an 
 eagle that day. Truth's testimony was over all their 
 heads, and my heart was filled with joy and praises 
 to the Lord. Many were convinced that day, and 
 several of them received the Truth and abode in it." 
 William Edmundson now rejoined his friends, in 
 whose company he found a Baptist minister, named 
 William Parker, whose wife was a Friend, and one 
 of the prisoners of the preceding night. As she did 
 
298 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 not arrive at home her husband set out to seek her, 
 and although he had felt a strong opposition to 
 William Edmundson, he was touched to the heart on 
 seeing him in the stocks, exposed to the rigorous 
 temperature of a keen winter morning. The governor 
 and several of those in authority were Baptists, and 
 William Edmundson asked William Parker what he 
 thought of his brethren's conduct ? He answered that 
 he was ashamed that those " who had been so long 
 professing and fighting for conscience, should now 
 suffer conscience to be trodden in the dirt." From 
 that day he attended the meetings of Friends, and 
 became an earnest minister. A Captain Morris — a 
 highly-esteemed Baptist elder, a justice of the peace 
 and governor of the garrison — when told of what had 
 happened at Belturbet was much troubled, and, as he 
 did not keep his sentiments to himself, a rumour 
 reached the Court of Dublin that Captain Morris was 
 turned Quaker. When examined by the general and 
 chief officers, he owned that he held the faith and 
 principles of Friends, and was therefore discharged 
 from his command ; he, also, became a minister. 
 
 During a confinement of fourteen weeks in a close 
 and filthy dungeon in Cavan — where he was one night 
 nearly stifled — William Edmundson was distressed 
 at the news of James Naylor's fall, and with the con- 
 sequent reflection that if such a man were the prey 
 of temptation how could he himself hope to with- 
 stand it ? But his spirit was comforted by the con- 
 viction that " Truth is Truth, though all men forsake 
 it." William Edmundson was often imprisoned when 
 travelling in other parts of the North of Ireland. 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 299 
 
 Here, one day we find him taking the Scotch Presby- \ 
 terians of Donegal by surprise as he rode from house 
 to house asking if there were any that feared God 
 there ! And the next, standing in Londonderry 
 market place, amidst stage-players and rope-dancers, 
 calling all to repentance, whilst directing them to 
 Christ and the enlightening influence of the Holy 
 Spirit ; and going on with this discourse from a prison- 
 window, until the gaoler fettered him as a condemned 
 felon. But— 
 
 *• Stone walls do not a prison make, 
 Nor iron bars a cage," 
 
 so he sat down very peacefully to enjoy sweet com- 
 munion with his Lord. 
 
 In the tumult caused in Ireland in 1661, by the 
 accession of Charles II., the Friends were persecuted 
 with increased vehemence. William Edmundson, 
 gaining twenty days' leave of absence from Mary- 
 borough Prison, obtained an order of release for 
 Friends throughout the nation from the Earls of 
 Orrery, Mountrath, Lords Justices of the Kingdom, 
 and Sir Morris Eustace, Chancellor. The Lord's power, 
 he says, won him a place in the Earl of Mountrath's 
 heart, which he retained until the death of that 
 nobleman. In 1665 the Friends of Mountmellick 
 were shamefully oppressed by the clergyman residing 
 
 at that place, who even tried to prevent the miller ., 
 
 from grinding corn for them. Being a justice of the 
 peace he had William Edmundson, who lived in 
 that neighbourhood, apprehended at a meeting, and 
 appeared against him with two indictments. Four 
 
300 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 lawyers, of whom William Edmundson knew nothing, 
 and to whom he had given no fee, pleaded most 
 successfully for him. Much sympathy was felt by 
 the assembled people, many of whom said, as he 
 passed them, " The Lord help you ! " 
 
 In the same year he visited Londonderry, believing 
 that he was commissioned to warn the inhabitants 
 of that city that, if they did not repent, God would 
 *' bring a scourge over them, and scale their walls 
 without a ladder." This he did in the cathedral and 
 in the streets. Twenty-four years later the people of 
 Londonderry recalled his words, when thousands of 
 their number perished miserably during the terrible 
 siege of that city, from the famine and wretchedness 
 which its high walls could not shut out, as they did 
 King James's troops. 
 
 In 1671 William Edmundson sailed for the West 
 Indies and America, in company with George Fox 
 and other Friends. One moonlight night they were 
 in great danger from pirates who were about to board 
 their vessel, when a cloud concealed her from them, 
 and afresh gale of wind meanwhile carried her beyond 
 their reach. In the West Indies they had good ser- 
 vice in gathering the people to Christ, and in Jamaica 
 "established meetings among them. Great were the 
 hardships borne by William Edmundson and two 
 Friends who accompanied him, during a wilderness 
 journey in Carolina. One dark night in a forest was 
 spent by the former in walking backward and for- 
 ward between two trees because his clothes were so 
 drenched with rain that he dared not lie down, not- 
 withstanding his weariness. Rewrites: " I had eaten 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 3OI 
 
 little or nothing that day, neither had I anything to 
 refresh "me but the Lord." 
 
 The following morning they reached Albemarle 
 River, and the home of a Friend named Henry 
 Phillips; his wife and himself wept for joy on seeing 
 one of their spiritual kindred, a pleasure which they 
 had not experienced for seven years. It was a 
 Sabbath, and William Edmundson bade them give 
 notice of a meeting to be held at mid-day, asking to 
 be called if he slept too long. It is supposed that at 
 this time there were only about 3,000 Europeans in 
 Carolina, whose houses were scattered over the State^ 
 one rarely within sight of another, and usually un- 
 connected except by paths along the banks of rivers 
 and inlets, marked by notches in trees. A religious 
 meeting was a great novelty, and the men who came 
 to it thought it quite superfluous to lay aside their 
 pipes. " But in a little time," writes William 
 Edmundson,' "the Lord's testimony arose in the 
 authority of His power, and their hearts were ten- 
 dered." A Justice of the Peace, who was present 
 with his wife, having " received the truth with glad- 
 ness," asked that a meeting might be held at his 
 house the next day, and a blessed one it proved to 
 be. 
 
 Bancroft states that from the commencement of the 
 settlement, there seems to have been no minister in 
 the colony, and ** no public worship but such as burst 
 from the hearts of the people themselves." Towards 
 the end of the year, George Fox, and other Friends^ 
 visited Carolina, and the isolated converts there were 
 remembered by him with such deep solicitude that. 
 
302 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 before leaving America, he addressed an epistle to 
 them, exhorting them to meet together in the name of 
 Jesus — " There is no salvation in any other name. 
 He is your Prophet, your Shepherd, your Bishop, your 
 Priest in the midst of you, to sanctify you, and to feed 
 you with life; wait in His power and light that- ye 
 may be built upon Him the true Foundation." 
 
 Whilst in Virginia William Edmundson visited the 
 governor. Sir William Barclay, to lay before him the 
 suffering of the Friends who dwelt there. He had by 
 no means a courteous hearing, but afterwards learnt 
 that he^had fared better than might have been anti- 
 cipated ; for Major-General Bennet — described as a 
 brave, solid, wise man, who received the Truth " — 
 asked him if the governor had called him " dog," 
 or' " rogue," and on receiving a negative reply said, 
 '' You took him in his best humour." In Shelter 
 Island William Edmundson had the pleasure of meet- 
 ing with George Fox and other Friends, from whom 
 he parted, after two or three days, " in the sweet love 
 of God." His homeward voyage was a very swift 
 one. From Jamaica he addressed an epistle to 
 Friends, from which a brief extract follows : — 
 
 " Stand fast and firm in the freedom and liberty of the 
 blessed Truth. . . . Take heed of being linked and mar- 
 ried to your shops and trades and merchandise, whereby 
 you are hindered from coming to meeting, serving the 
 Lord and doing His work, as though your work and 
 business must be done first, and the Lord's last. . . . 
 If any be linked and married to the world, and have 
 their delights therein — how then are they God's freemen 
 and Christ's spouse ? ... Be ye therefore good mer- 
 chantmen. Prize the love of God who, as a tender 
 Father, gave His Son for us." 
 
ft 
 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 303 
 
 In 1675 William Edmundson again visited the West 
 Indies and America ; he landed in Barbadoes, where 
 a great blessing seems to have rested on his labours 
 in public meetings for worship, " Men and women's 
 meetings for Church affairs, and negroes' meetings in 
 families." When the governor told him that he had 
 heard that he was making the negroes Christians, and 
 thus leading them to rebellion and murder, William 
 Edmundson owned that he had endeavoured to bring 
 them to " the knowledge of God and Christ Jesus, and 
 to believe in Him who died for them, and for all 
 men"; such teaching, he remarked, would be likely 
 to deter them from insurrection, and if they did rebel 
 it would rather be the result of the state of brutal 
 ignorance and oppression in which they were kept. 
 
 In New England he felt that he was travelling with 
 his life in his hand, on account of the war with the 
 Indians. At Reading, accompanied by five or six 
 other Friends, he called on an aged man, of the name 
 of Gould, whose house was fortified for fear of the 
 natives. When the gates had been unlocked, Wil- 
 liam Edmundson, observing that an elder was engaged 
 in prayer, asked his associates to delay entering the 
 room until he had arisen. W^illiam Edmundson then 
 told those who were assembled that he did not come 
 to disturb them, for he loved religion and was seeking 
 religious people. Then he relates how, as he sat 
 among them, his " heart being full of the power and 
 spirit of the Lord, the love of God ran through him 
 to the people," and he begged leave to address them. 
 After speaking, he says, of the mysteries of God's 
 kingdom, he "touched a little upon the priests," 
 
 X 
 
304 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 whereupon the old man stood up, laid his hand on his. 
 shoulder, and said, " I must stop you, for you have 
 spoken against our ministers." William Edmundson 
 was silent for a while, and remarks that he was tender 
 of them, for he felt they were " a tender people." But 
 he soon told them he had much *'to declare unta 
 them of the things of God," yet could not do so with- 
 out the sanction of the master of the house. This 
 was again granted, and utterance was given him to 
 make known the mystery of the Gospel. Many 
 hearts were touched, whilst tears flowed freely, and 
 he ended the meeting with fervent prayer ; then his. 
 host rose up and embraced him, and said he wished 
 to know what was the diiference between their own 
 ministers, and Friends. To this William Edmund- 
 son replied : " Your ministers are satisfied with the 
 talk of Christ and the Scriptures ; and we cannot be 
 satisfied without the sure, inward. Divine know- 
 ledge of God and Christ, and the enjoyment of those 
 comforts the Scriptures declare of which true be- 
 lievers enjoyed in the primitive times." The old 
 man answered, with tears, "Those are the things I 
 want"; and, dear as provisions then were, he would 
 i_ not allow the Friends to leave until they had taken 
 a meal with him. He wept as he folded William 
 Edmundson in his arms as they were about to part^ 
 saying, " I doubt I shall never see you again." 
 
 The latter had also an interesting interview with 
 some Baptists in the neighbourhood of New London,, 
 who thought it right to keep the old Jewish Sabbath 
 on the last day of the week. He told them that 
 Christ had ended the law of the Old Covenant and 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 305 
 
 was the Rest of His people, and that all must know 
 rest, quietness, and peace in Him. In reply to their 
 questions on Baptism, he quoted Matt. iii. ii, and 
 John iii. 30, and said that it was a " material question 
 to such as held water-baptism to be in force, to show 
 how far it was decreased, and when it would be at an 
 end, and Christ's baptism increased to perfection, 
 and established according to John's testimony ; but 
 as for himself he believed that John's water-baptism 
 was ended long ago, and Christ's established ; and 
 there was one faith, and one baptism." The follow- 
 ing evening William Edmundson went on board a 
 sloop bound for New York, although he had been 
 strongly impressed with the belief that his Lord had 
 work for Him at New Hertford, in Connecticut ; but 
 as the fifty-mile journey through the wilderness was 
 a most perilous one, on account of the Indian war- 
 fare, he was unwilling to undertake it. When the 
 vessel was a' few leagues from land a storm came on, 
 which made the captain take shelter in a harbour, 
 where she lay for some days on account of the strong 
 head-wind. William Edmundson did not doubt that 
 by this detention God was mercifully preventing him 
 from directing his own steps, and that, be the con- 
 sequences what they might, he must go to New 
 Hertford. When he told those on board how it had 
 been with him, the captain wept, and the hearts of 
 others were also touched. 
 
 In 1667, after an absence of two years, he re- 
 turned to his home, meeting his family, he says, " in 
 the same love of God that had made them willing to 
 part with one another, for a season, for the Lord's 
 
 X 
 
306 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 service." In 1682 William Edmundson and another 
 Friend were confined for twenty weeks in a dungeon, 
 with thieves and murderers, at the instigation of a 
 clergyman, on account of their refusal to pay tithes. 
 They were liberated by means of the mediation of 
 their landlord, the Lord of Ely, with the bishop, 
 who ordered them to come before the court at Kil- 
 dare. In reply to his questions, William Edmund- 
 son told him of his conviction that "the Law was 
 ended that gave tithes, and the Priesthood changed 
 that received them, by the coming and suifering of 
 Christ, who had settled a ministry on better terms." 
 A dean who was present spoke in a very kind manner, 
 and said that had he known William Edmundson 
 as well before, he should not have thus suffered. 
 William Edmundson was enabled also to fully and 
 freely answer the queries put to him with regard to 
 Faith, to the Gospel ministry, and the true worship 
 of God. This conversation lasted for three hours, 
 and a Friend (John Burnyeat) who was a listener, 
 remarked that he had never been better satisfied 
 with a day's work in his life. From that hour the 
 bishop and officers of the Court dealt kindly with 
 Friends. 
 
 In the following year William Edmundson again 
 visited the West Indies. In 1685 he had some un- 
 usual service in different parts of Ireland, for he was 
 made deeply sensible that a time of great calamity 
 was not far distant, when the dead bodies of men 
 would be spread over the ground; and, as an am- 
 bassador for Christ, often and faithfully did he 
 warn those whom he addressed, " to lessen their 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 307 
 
 concerns in the world, and be ready to receive the 
 Lord in His judgments that were at hand, and to 
 flee unto Him for succour that they might have 
 safety." This season of grievous trial began when, 
 on the accession of James H., the Earl of Tyrconnel, 
 Lord Deputy of Ireland, disarmed most of the Pro- 
 testants and placed arms at the disposal of the 
 Catholics. Several of the former were thus caused 
 to leave the country, or take refuge in garrisons : 
 but in the war which soon broke out many were 
 wholly unprotected from the Catholic soldiers and 
 from the plundering bands of Rapparees.* One day 
 a party of horse arrived at Mountmellick and violently 
 abused the Protestants who resided in that neigh- 
 bourhood. William Edmundson they dragged by 
 the hair among the feet of their horses, swearing 
 they would kill him. The following morning he 
 went to Mountmellick, and had an interview with 
 Justice Warnford and another English gentleman, 
 who told him they thought this outbreak was the 
 harbinger of a massacre. In reply he gave them his 
 opinion that it was more probably a plan for making 
 the English flee from the country, and he strongly 
 advised that a full investigation should be made of 
 the abuses which had been perpetrated, and that 
 some one should be sent to Dublin to lay the matter 
 before the Government. The justice and his friend 
 highly approved of this suggestion, but said that no 
 one would dare to take this step unless it were him- 
 
 • Those who carried on war on a small scale ; (ee is an Irish dimi- 
 nutive). This merciless banditti, belonging to neither army, spread 
 terror through the land. 
 
308 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 self. Although he well knew that a journey to 
 Dublin at this time would be with the hazard of his 
 life, he consented to run the risk for the good of 
 his countrymen. 
 
 In consequence of the appeal made by himself 
 and two gentlemen from Mountmellick, some of the 
 troopers were disarmed and sent to Maryborough 
 gaol. During these years of trial William Edmundson 
 often visited Dublin, and gained material aid from 
 the Government for the distressed Protestants, and 
 especially for Friends as being altogether unarmed. 
 Occasionally he spoke to King James himself, who 
 gave him a patient hearing. After the battle of the 
 Boyne, in 1689, some of the defeated Irish army plun- 
 dered William Edmundson's house, together with 
 many others. He told the most influential Irishmen 
 who lived near him, that if they would do all that 
 lay in their power to keep their fellow-countrymen 
 from spoiling the English of the little that was left 
 to them, he and his friends would strive to do as 
 much for them when the advancing English army 
 should arrive. The proposal was fully accepted, but 
 the sworn promises of protection were but ill kept. 
 .Yet William Edmundson felt that no failure of duty 
 in others could exempt him from its performance. 
 
 William III. had issued a proclamation to the 
 effect that all the Irish who would remain quietly in 
 their homes should be unmolested, but nevertheless 
 a body of 300 soldiers, under two captains, came to 
 Mountmellick, and seized some of the Irish residents 
 and 500 head of cattle. Amongst their prisoners was 
 an old gentleman of the name of William Dunn, who 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 309 
 
 had been a captain in the army, and his two sons ; one 
 of the latter they stripped, saying they should hang 
 him on suspicion of being a Rapparee. The Dunns 
 managed to acquaint William Edmundson with their 
 perilous situation, and with all possible haste he rode 
 after them and their captors, followed by some of his 
 Irish neighbours, who hoped that he might help them 
 to the restoration of their friends and cattle. When 
 the two captains saw William Edmundson they made 
 a halt. He urged them to release all the prisoners, 
 reminding them of the king's promise, and pointing 
 out the censure which would be cast both on him 
 and the English nation by any injury subsequently 
 inflicted on the Irish. They said they were willing 
 to act on his advice if the soldiers could be led to 
 to do so. The latter meanwhile were on the verge 
 of attacking the men that had followed William 
 Edmundson, who now dismounted, and, at the risk of 
 his life, went amongst the excited soldiers, and suc- 
 ceeded, with the assistance of their captains, in per- 
 suading them to restore most of the cattle. He next 
 sought out the young man whose life had been threat- 
 ened, and having thrown his own riding-coat around 
 him, told his captors how unmanly their conduct 
 towards him had been ; adding that he, who had him- 
 self been a soldier, would have scorned so base an 
 action. Not only were young Dunn's clothes given 
 back to him, but he was liberated, as were also his 
 father and brother, and most of the other prisoners. 
 
 Although, during this time of misery towns were 
 burned and Protestants murdered, the Friends held 
 their meetings regularly, and '* enjoyed them peace- 
 
310 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 ably." In the latter part of 1690 some hundreds of 
 Rapparees one night surrounded William Edmund- 
 son's home, and, after discharging several shots 
 through the windows, set fire to the house. They 
 robbed him of his cattle and goods, and carried off 
 his two sons and himself as prisoners. Having 
 hardly any clothing on, and being bare-foot, they 
 sujffered much, for their path that winter night led 
 them over rough ground, amidst bushes, and through 
 mire and knee-deep water. The next morning their 
 captors held a sham council in a wood, and deter- 
 mined to shoot the father and hang the sons. The 
 former told the Rapparees that many of them knew 
 him and his family, and challenged them to prove 
 that his sons or himself had ever wronged them of a 
 farthing ; on the contrary — so he reminded them — he 
 had imperilled his life on behalf of their fellow- 
 countrymen. To this appeal several made answer 
 that they knew he was an honest man. " If I die,"" 
 he then said, " you are my witnesses that I am in- 
 nocent. God will avenge my blood." They were 
 astonished at the fearlessness he manifested — having 
 two firelocks ready with which to shoot him. After 
 having blindfolded his sons, they were about to per- 
 form the same office for him. " You need not," he 
 said ; " for I can look you in the face, and am not 
 afraid to die." At this critical moment Lieutenant 
 William Dunn, whose father and brother had been sO' 
 effectually aided by WilHam Edmundson, came up,, 
 saying that he would take the three captives to 
 Athlone. 
 
 His conduct was not influenced by gratitude, but 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 3II 
 
 by the hope of preferment. Although Athlone was 
 only twenty miles off, he kept them for three nights 
 without food or fire. When some of the Rapparees 
 expressed their wonder at William Edmundson's 
 power of withstanding such hardship, he said that 
 whilst thus deprived of provisions, the Lord had 
 taken away his appetite, so he was well fitted for his 
 condition. He knew, however, that his sons were 
 very hungry, and noticing an expression of pity on 
 the face of an old Irishman whose door they were 
 passing, he asked for a little bread for them. The 
 old man answered that he would give him a piece of 
 bread, even were it bought with gold, for he did not 
 look like one who was used to beg. When, on the 
 following day, the Edmundsons were led through the 
 chief street of Athlone, they were in danger of being 
 stabbed with the bayonets of the crowd of soldiers 
 who filled it, and who called them traitors and rebels; 
 in this behaviour they were encouraged by the high 
 sheriff of the county. But just then an Irish gentle- 
 man. Lieutenant Valentine Toole, pressed through 
 the crowd, and courteously greeting the persecuted 
 prisoner as " Master Edmundson," said to the 
 sheriff, '' I have known him above twenty years to 
 be an honest man, say you all what you will of him." 
 This quieted the angry rabble, and after a little 
 while William Edmundson and his sons were 
 brought before the governor, who knew the former 
 well, and had occasionally been at his house. When 
 he now saw him, wrapped in an old blanket, he ex- 
 pressed his sympathy, whilst tears vStood in his eyes. 
 He also blamed Lieutenant Dunn for the false accu- 
 
312 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 sations he had been making ; yet he was afraid to 
 release the prisoners, for he knew that many sus- 
 picious eyes were fixed on him because of his con- 
 sideration for the English. 
 
 After committing them to custody he sent them 
 some beef, bread, drink, and money ; but they had 
 nothing to lie on except the floor. William Edmund- 
 son was greatly exhausted, and was so much dis- 
 tressed at the language of some of his fellow-prisoners 
 that he asked the governor to remove him to the 
 dungeon, for he thought he would rather die there 
 than be amidst such depraved companions. The 
 governor said he had not the heart to grant such a 
 request, but gave him leave to go to the house of a 
 Friend, who lived six miles from Athlone, and who 
 had promised to " engage his body and all that 
 he had" for William Edmundson's "true imprison- 
 ment." The latter was now able to send a few lines 
 to relieve the suspense of his poor wife. The governor 
 soon liberated the young Edmundsons, and with the 
 aid of an Irish colonel released their father a few 
 days later. 
 
 During his absence William Edmundson's wife had 
 one day gone with some of her English neighbours to 
 the farmyard of one of her sons, in order to fetch his 
 stock of hides and leather. Whilst they were loading 
 the cars they were attacked by another basely un- 
 grateful son of old Captain Dunn, with a party of 
 Rapparees. Notwithstanding the cold winter weather 
 they stripped William Edmundson's wife of all her 
 clothing, which exposure brought on an illness that 
 caused her death seven months later. 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 313 
 
 The most conspicuous events of William Edmund- 
 son's life have now been recorded, and the patient 
 diligent labours of his latter years, the result of which 
 it is impossible to estimate, must be hastily passed 
 over. They were often performed under much bodily 
 infirmity, but — to quote his own words — " The Lord 
 who had carried him through many exercises and 
 perils was his strength and song " ; and again and 
 again we meet with such acknowledgments as the 
 following, " The Lord's power healed me and carried 
 me over." Once, when ill at Leominster, a phy- 
 sician, who had been at the meeting which he had 
 held in that town, offered to attend him by day 
 and night, and with skilful kindness ministered to 
 his need gratuitously. 
 
 In 1697 he attended a meeting for eight counties at 
 Bristol, which lasted for four days. He writes: "The 
 Lord's eminent power went over all, whereby many 
 hearts were made glad and thankful to the Lord for 
 that visit and service." In the summer of 1700, 
 whilst visiting Connaught, we find that he was placed 
 in the stocks at Ayrescourt, to the grief of the people 
 of that place, some of whom, he says, wept " to see 
 an ancient man set in the stocks for worshipping God, 
 having never seen the like before." They might have 
 spared their teajrs had they known what consolation 
 was granted to him and his companions, one of whom 
 was George Rooke. After they were liberated ** a 
 brave, heavenly meeting was held." 
 
 In 1704 his strength was so much reduced that he 
 thought his end was near. ** I was not afraid," he 
 writes, " of death or the grave, but could say, through 
 
314 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 the tender mercy of God, O death, where is thy sting? 
 O grave, where is thy victory ? Through steadfast 
 faith and hope in my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, 
 who suffered for me, and whom death or the grave 
 could not hold, but rose again and appears before the- 
 Father for me as advocate. Mediator and Intercedes'' 
 
 Three months before his death, and when in his- 
 eighty-fifth year, William Edmundson attended the 
 half-year's meeting at Dublin, and took leave of his. 
 friends. A few hours before the attack which termi- 
 nated his life came on, he finished arranging his. 
 journal and other writings. He told his friends that 
 it gave him pleasure to consider how he had spent 
 his time since the Lord called him to the ministry,, 
 and said to George Rooke, " We have had many good 
 meetings together, I believe we shall meet in heaven."' 
 To Thomas Wilson he remarked that " The Lord 
 had a great work to do in the earth, though many 
 did not see it, and that His glorious day which had 
 broken forth would rise higher and higher upon His- 
 people. 
 
 William Edmundson died in the summer of 1712.. 
 Very varied are the ways in which the Lord's chil- 
 dren are called to serve Him, perhaps as varied as. 
 are their characters and mental and physical capa-- 
 bilities. For each one, who is willing to be shown 
 it, is there not a path often lying parallel with the 
 daily ordinary routine of life, in which he can glorify 
 God better than in any other? For some it may 
 even be a similar one to that of the old cripple who- 
 could not even turn in bed, but was wont as he lay 
 there in his poverty and pain, to pray " Lord Jesus . 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 315. 
 
 Christ, have mercy upon me and every one ; not upon 
 one only, but upon every one. Lord Jesus Christ.'^ 
 May each keep that which is committed to his trusty 
 whatever it be ! and as we take leave of William 
 Edmundson, can we not unite in these words of one 
 of his friends, *' May it please the Lord of the Harvest 
 to raise up other labourers therein ; for the harvest is. 
 great and such labourers but a few " ? 
 
3i6 
 
 WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 " Blessed be the Lord that hath made His arm bare in our time, to 
 Taring us to the discovery of a most excellent situation, the glory of 
 which cannot be told with the tongue of men ; and it is intended by 
 Him that we should grow steadfast in the faith which gives victory." — 
 William Ellis. 
 
 Two remarkable ministers in the early days of the 
 Society of Friends were the brothers John and Roger 
 Haydock. The elder became a Friend at the age of 
 twenty-seven, and soon after found himself a prisoner 
 for conscience' sake in Lancaster Gaol. Thus began 
 the " much persecution both of tongues and hands," 
 borne with invincible patience, though often his lot, 
 during fifty years of apostolic labour in Great Britain, 
 Ireland and America. It was said of his ministry 
 that it "tended to the building-up in the most holy 
 faith in our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, which 
 gives victory over sin." He died a prisoner in Lan- 
 caster Castle ; his friends, in a brief " testimony" 
 about him, state that they" could not stand acquitted 
 before God or man to have buried the corpse with a 
 few short sighs, and to let his name go with him to 
 the grave. We have raised no monument over his 
 sepulchre [they add] but there is one due to his 
 worth. His life was a sweet savour, and ought not 
 to go under foot." 
 
 After he had become a Friend his mother one day 
 induced his younger, but learned and talented brother, 
 
WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 317 
 
 Roger, to reason with him on the course which he 
 had taken ; but as John Haydock proved the good 
 ground he had for pursuing it, his brother soon be- 
 came silent, much to the mother's disappointment 
 and displeasure. But in reply to her words of blame 
 the latter said, " It is truth, I dare not speak against 
 it ; " ere long he publicly professed the same views, 
 and, undeterred by persecution and delicate health, 
 spent much time in ministerial journeys. Roger Hay- 
 dock died of fever at the age of fifty-three ; his wife 
 ^— to whom in her early life he had been a faithful 
 instructor in righteousness — remarks on his readiness 
 to leave her, when needful for the service of their 
 Lord. She adds, *' I was made a blessing to him 
 more comfortable every day than other ; he would 
 often express it ; and truly so was he to me every 
 day, every way, and in every respect. No tongue 
 nor pen can relate the full of that comfort and joy 
 we had in God and one in another. ... his name and 
 memory is blessed, and will live and be of a sweet 
 savour in the hearts of the righteous through ages." 
 When he was about thirty-three, on a winter day 
 early in 1667, Roger Haydock had held a meeting at 
 Lower Bradley, in the West Riding of Yorkshire. 
 Eleanor Lowe — who afterwards became his wife — 
 and her cousin Elizabeth Hodson, both of whom 
 were ministers, were also present. Amongst the 
 assembled company was a youth of eighteen, named 
 William Ellis, who had two years earlier left his. 
 home at Calton and engaged himself to a Friend at 
 Skipton, a linen-weaver, named John Stott. Having 
 heard that a Friends' meeting was to be held at 
 
3l8 WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Bradley, he asked leave from his "master and dame" 
 to attend it, which was readily granted. Probably 
 he was impelled by a motive of curiosity, but he had 
 cause ever after for gratitude to God for guiding his 
 steps to Bradley that day. Many years later he thus 
 writes of Roger Haydock : — 
 
 " Though I have had many instructors in Christ, yet 
 I have not many fathers ; for in Christ Jesus was I be- 
 gotten, by Him through the Gospel and the operation of 
 the Holy Spirit, which did effectually open a door of en- 
 trance in my heart, as it opened a door of utterance unto 
 Him. . . . I was abundantly satisfied that day with what 
 I felt and heard ; so that I took heed unto the Word in my 
 heart, unto which I was directed by Him ; and it grew 
 and increased, and my faith increased, and I became, ac- 
 •cording to my small measure, obedient thereunto." 
 
 He goes on to say how his soul now became *' in 
 Jove " with righteousness and with those who exem- 
 plified it ; most of all with Roger Haydock himself, 
 with whom after a while he had the satisfaction of 
 becoming more closely acquainted, and found that it 
 was the chief aim of his life to labour for the spread- 
 ing of Christ's Kingdom amongst men. William 
 Ellis's own history of the change wrought in him, by 
 means of the ministry of Roger Haydock, is fully 
 endorsed by his mistress, Abigail Stott, who felt sure, 
 on his return from Bradley meeting, that some great 
 change had passed over him — an opinion amply con- 
 firmed by three years of daily intercourse. She did 
 not doubt that he had realised the prophet's words, 
 *' The Lord whom ye seek shall suddenly come to 
 His temple. . . . and He shall sit as a refiner and 
 purifier of silver, and He shall purify the sons of 
 
WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 3I9 
 
 Levi, and purge them as gold and silver, that they 
 may offer unto the Lord an offering in righteous- 
 ness." 
 
 Although he had been very frivolous in his tastes 
 and pursuits, he now^ became remarkable for the 
 watchfulness which regulated his words and actions ; 
 and his influence over the children and servants of 
 the household was of great value. The steadfastness 
 of his faith was, moreover, not unfrequently put to 
 the test of persecution, of which however. only one 
 instance seems to be recorded ; it is of his being vio- 
 lently laid hands on, when on his way to a meeting, 
 and confined in the Skipton tolbooth. 
 
 At the age of twenty-one William Ellis took up his 
 residence in the village of Airton, and soon afterwards 
 found that the Lord was calling him to advocate His 
 cause as a Gospel minister. At this time he found a 
 wise, faithful and tender counsellor, in John Wynn, 
 a Friend, whose ministry had been greatly blessed to 
 him at a very early period of his renewed life. His 
 young heart — suddenly awakened to a comprehension 
 of the truth that the things that are seen are tem- 
 poral, whilst the things that are unseen are eternal — 
 was just in a state to be deeply and lastingly im- 
 pressed by a simple illustration from Job, made use 
 of by John Wynn ; and the more so that his own 
 employment would both show him its force and keep 
 it in his memory. ** All should prize their time,'' 
 said the minister, " for it is as swift as a weaver's 
 shuttle." 
 
 After an interval of nineteen years, in a letter to 
 this Friend, William Ellis says that this figure dwelt 
 
320 WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 in his mind as much as ever. " I plainly see," he 
 writes, " that there must be devout faithfulness when 
 time is truly prized ; and I oft say if I had it to spend 
 over again I could spend it to better advantage^ 
 However, the Lord is a God of great kindness and 
 tender mercy, and delights to see judgment work out 
 into victory, and that the hearts of His people should 
 be freely willing to venture all for His name, even 
 soul, body and substance. In all the good that is 
 come upon me every way I do not give the honour 
 to that which some call good luck, but only to that 
 great Name that is over all powers." 
 
 John Wynn left the army and became a Friend 
 when about six-and-twenty, having received deep 
 religious impressions in a meeting at Pall Mall ; and^ 
 literally laying down his arms whilst standing in the 
 ranks at a review, he afterwards had his discharge 
 and settled at Bradford as a clothier. A soldier now,, 
 under the Captain who goes forth conquering and to- 
 conquer, with unwearied zeal he sought to fulfil the 
 ministry which he had received, and though suffering 
 deeply from persecution, visited most of the counties 
 of England and Wales. His wife, Deborah Wynn^ 
 was also a minister, and, as meetings were regularly 
 held at their house, they were the especially chosen 
 victims of informers, and three times all their pro- 
 perty of any worth was taken from them. 
 
 On one of these occasions John Wynn, when 
 returning from market, had his horse, goods and 
 overcoat taken from him; on arriving at home he 
 found his shop cleared of its stock and his house of 
 its furniture, with the exception of the bed occupied 
 
WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 32I 
 
 by his wife and new-born infant, and which would ^ 
 have been also taken but for the interference of 
 humane neighbours. Some of these, when they heard 
 him speak of laying out the little money left him in 
 goods for his shop, begged him not to take such a 
 course, saying it was manifest that his persecutors 
 were bent on ruining him. He answered that he 
 was not at all disheartened, they could take no more 
 than all, and he believed " they would be limited in 
 the Lord's time " ; and so it proved. His wife had 
 been early inured to similar trials : an only child, at 
 the age of fifteen she carried on her parents' business 
 whilst they were prisoners for conscience' sake at 
 York, whither she walked — a distance of twenty-two 
 miles — once a fortnight to visit them and give them 
 the amount she had earned. Two or three years 
 later her ministry, which proved to be of sixty- 
 four years' duration, had commenced. She long ^ 
 outlived her husband, beloved and respected in her 
 own neighbourhood; her "heart and house" were 
 ever open to entertain those who were travelling 
 in the semce of the Lord, and many of the early 
 ministers of the Society she numbered amongst her 
 friends. In her old age she spoke of the great cause 
 she had for praising God who had upheld her in 
 all her troubles. John Wynn died in 1699, after a [/ 
 short illness, during which he earnestly exhorted 
 those who visited him to " stand faithful unto the 
 Lord." 
 
 How highly William Ellis had valued his friend- 
 ship we may learn from allusions in letters received 
 by him, as well as from his own pen. John Tom- 
 
 Y 
 
322 WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 kins writes : — "I cannot blame thee for mourning 
 the loss of a good man. Good men are too few 
 everywhere. God complained in old time that the 
 righteous were taken away, and no man regarded it 
 or laid it to heart, The Lord help thee in thy service 
 for Him, and stand by thee if He takes away thy 
 outward helps." 
 
 Another correspondent acknowledges the receipt of 
 two letters " about thy sorrowful exercises on parting 
 with thy ancient friend, counsellor and comforter;" 
 whilst he himself writes of how his heart was made 
 willing to receive John Wynn's reproofs and kind 
 counsel ; and, describing a visit paid shortly before 
 his death to the neighbourhood of Airton, adds : — 
 
 *' Oh, what strength, power, and zeal were upon him. 
 ... Oh ! the unutterable joy that has filled my heart 
 when I have remembered him, with many others whom 
 I am satisfied did delight to serve God in their day, and 
 followed Him truly, like the worthies of old. And the 
 sense of this reward and crown of life being laid up for 
 the faithful, makes my soul the more earnestly to travel 
 forward. ... So that at the last upshot of all, through 
 Him that hath loved me and washed me from my sins in 
 His own most precious blood, I may receive a sentence 
 of Well done ! " 
 
 When about the age of thirty William Ellis mar- 
 ried a Friend named Alice Davie, who also became a 
 Minister, and in this capacity, in company with 
 other Friends, not unfrequently visited various parts 
 of, England. No record it seems was kept of the 
 early itinerant labours to which her husband felt 
 himself called. Whilst absent on one of these jour- 
 neys his spiritual interest was awakened for the 
 
WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 323 
 
 eldest son of his former mistress, Abigail Stott ; and 
 therefore on his return he paid a visit to the family. 
 He found Jacob Stott seriously ill, and thought it 
 right to pray vocally for him ; during that prayer the 
 young man — who had often confided to his mother 
 the fear that he was unprepared for death — felt a 
 blessed hope arise in his soul which, strengthened by 
 a heavenly earnest, remained unclouded until his 
 death, a fortnight afterwards. 
 
 One of William Ellis's friends remarks that, in 
 meetings, he often *'hit the mark" by addressing 
 those altogether unknown to him as if he had been 
 acquainted with their spiritual condition. In 1690, 
 two years after his marriage, William Ellis paid a 
 visit to Cornwall, to which a Friend of Launceston 
 thus alludes, on the following New Year's Day : — 
 " Oh, my dear and well-beloved friend ! I cannot 
 forget the many heavenly opportunities wherein we 
 have been comforted and refreshed together." A 
 letter from another Cornish correspondent, Thomas 
 Gwin, of Falmouth, congratulates William Ellis on 
 the birth of his little son, Jonathan, who was appa-. 
 rently an only child, a treasure which, after a few 
 months' possession, his parents were called on to 
 resign. In the same letter Thomas Gwin states that 
 he has been " exceedingly exercised " by the death of 
 a little daughter, and adds : — 
 
 ** I have a true unity with thee in thy concern on ac- 
 count of Friends' children, and a jealousy sometimes on 
 my mind lest the ensuiug generation — receiving the pro- 
 fession of truth in a traditional way, and being un- 
 acquainted with the wonders which the Lord has wrought 
 for His exercised people, — may be ready to sit as those 
 
 / 
 
324 WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 that are at ease in Zion, and trust in a formal profes- 
 sion.* 
 
 In the winter of 1694-5, William Ellis went on a 
 gospel mission to Ireland, crossing safely to Dublin, 
 though two Whitehaven ships were during the same 
 night taken by a privateer. After expressing his 
 belief that his service would be acceptable to the 
 Lord, for which his " soul had much travailed," he 
 reminds his wife to take care of herself ; " first for 
 thy mind, that thou do not overbow it ; and that 
 thou take care of thy body that thou do not overwork 
 '' thyself. ... It is great ease to my mind that thou 
 parted so freely with me." A month later he writes 
 an epistle to Settle Monthly Meeting, to which he 
 belonged. In this he advises his friends to 
 
 " meet often together ; and when met, labour to be rightly 
 exercised towards God in your particular gifts, and that 
 none give way to an indifferent mind or a conceited 
 spirit. . . . Those who walk in the Truth do receive the 
 goodness of God when met together ; it is such that take 
 delight to come together on God's account, and cannot 
 cry, ' My business, my business ' ; neither will they be 
 hindered by it, for they know the great business is to in- 
 crease their strength in the Truth." 
 
 When his Irish labours are nearly ended he writes 
 to his wife of how wonderfully the Lord had upheld 
 him, " even as through deep and rough waters," so 
 that he could exceedingly rejoice. In the following 
 
 * From Thomas Gwin's MS. Journal we find that a special meeting 
 / for children, in which he was much interested, was held at Falmouth 
 on Seventh-days. In the summer of 1704 he writes : — " I was with 
 the children, and was drawne forth in testimony plaine and demon- 
 strative, telling them how much more helps they had as outwardly, 
 to stirre them up than some of us had, and how they, by waiting 
 and retiring, might obtain the same inward help we enjoyed." 
 
WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 325 
 
 summer William Ellis received a letter from one of 
 his Irish friends, William Edmundson [see preceding 
 sketch] , which afforded him timely aid ; for, in 
 allusion to its arrival, he writes (when answering it 
 three days after) of being ** much better in mind 
 since," and of his gratitude to the Lord for still put- 
 ting it into the hearts of His servants to animate and 
 advise others. He also states that for nearly three 
 years, even " before my son died" — so the infant's 
 death was an epoch in his life — he had at times felt 
 " a flowing of kindness " to the inhabitants of the 
 West Indies. And this constraining power of the 
 love of Christ was lasting still, though he admits that 
 he had not yielded to it as he ought, and that conse- 
 quently the chastening hand of the Lord had been so 
 laid on him as to cause the fervent cry to arise that 
 He would once more allow him to " stand in His 
 delightful presence, and he would be willing to run 
 His errand by sea or land." The following passage 
 from William Edmundson's letter is probably one of 
 those which came to his correspondent as a word in 
 season : — 
 
 "The Lord's labourers that He hath called into His 
 vineyard and gifted with His Holy Spirit for the work of 
 the ministry, are to follow His work and business close, 
 and finish their work in the daytime. There is need of 
 good workmen, for the old enemy is hard at work ; and 
 his old engine is this world and the things and king- 
 dom of it, to twist and draw men from the Lord's 
 business." 
 
 On the day that he received William Ellis's answer, 
 William Edmundson, who was his correspondent's 
 senior by five-and-twenty years, wrote again, remind- 
 
326 WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 ing him that Christ's will and mind are cleared up in 
 His own time to His servants' understanding that 
 are devoted to His will ; also telling him of the great 
 need of faithful and skilful labourers on the other 
 side of the Atlantic, and bidding him " write at large " 
 to him : no doubt he felt deeply interested in the idea 
 that his younger brother would visit lands, on behalf 
 of whose inhabitants his own heart had been deeply 
 stirred. William Ellis now replies that God's good- 
 ness to him makes him long to fully serve Him ; and 
 remarks — paradoxically — " I shall forbear to tell thee 
 the benefit thy letters are to me." It was about two 
 years after this time that William Ellis sailed for 
 America. Before leaving home he had the pleasure of 
 renewed personal intercourse with William Edmund- 
 son, who spent two nights at his house, and had, he 
 says, great service in the neighbourhood."* 
 
 The people who resided in the neighbourhood of 
 the village sometimes came with eagerness to the 
 meeting now held there, which was visited by many 
 ministers. " So I am in great hopes," writes William 
 Ellis, *' great part of our valley will be convinced; 
 and if they will not be converted the fault will be 
 their own." 
 
 * Probably William Edmundson held a meeting in the meeting- 
 house which William Ellis had lately erected at Airton at his own 
 expense. It is built of stone, and will contain about one hundred 
 and fifty persons ; above the door are the initials W.A.E. and the 
 date of its perfect completion (1700). It stands with its back to the 
 village street, on the other side of which William Ellis built his own 
 substantial dwelling in farm-house fashion : in the front, above a 
 doorway, now walled up, is the date 1690, and the initials, W.A.E. ; 
 the same letters are to be seen over the wide arch around the fire- 
 place, in the comfortable room which no doubt answered many pur- 
 poses besides that of kitchen. A little further up the street William 
 Ellis mounted a sun-dial on a pillar. 
 
WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 327 
 
 Up to this time he seems to have attended the 
 meeting held at Rilston. It was in the early part of 
 the winter of 1697 that he sailed for America, in 
 company with Aaron Atkinson, a remarkable minis- 
 ter, then about thirty-two. Just before leaving Eng- 
 land they received a letter from John Tomkins, the 
 compiler of the three first parts of " Piety Promoted," 
 asking them to visit some relatives of his in West 
 Jersey, and encouraging them to put their whole 
 trust in Him on whose errand they were going : '' I 
 believe you have tried the name of the Lord, and 
 found it to be shot-proof," he writes; "it is the 
 whole armour of God." 
 
 At this time John Tomkins was about thirty-four, 
 and in the following year began to speak as a minis- 
 ter ; he had lost his father in early childhood, but 
 was very carefully brought up by his mother. As 
 he grew older he delighted in searching the Scrip- 
 tures ; and one of his publications, in after years, 
 was on " The Harmony of the Old and New Testa- 
 ments." His affectionate and sympathising dispo- 
 sition found a field of action in aiding his step-father 
 and half-brothers and sisters, who were in very 
 reduced circumstances, as well as in visiting and 
 relieving others who might be afflicted in mind, body, 
 or estate. His heart had early responded to the 
 alluring influence of a Saviour's love ; even when a 
 boy he felt a warm affection for the ministers with 
 whom he came in contact, and in after life could say 
 that he had dedicated his whole strength and time 
 to the honour and service of God. When on his 
 death-bed, at the age of forty-three, he said, ** I have 
 
328 WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 seen great things since my sickness, things which I 
 think not lawful to be spoken." And after referring- 
 to the sweet peace granted him by his Saviour, he 
 added, " Oh, the love of the Lord Jesus Christ is 
 great to mankind ! " 
 
 Before leaving London for Deal, William Ellis 
 and Aaron Atkinson had, we learn, *' a fine time " in 
 that city, where they were also encouraged by the 
 sympathy of their friends and the prayers of the 
 Church ; so that William Ellis wondered at the 
 entire willingness he felt to leave what was nearest 
 and dearest to him, though he knew that this ready 
 compliance was "God's work" and not his own. 
 Before his long absence he wrote to a friend of his 
 at Skipton on behalf of his " old dame," Abigail 
 Stott, now a widow, and in pecuniary difficulties. 
 His generous and kindly disposition, yielded to the 
 guidance of his Lord, made him an effectual helper 
 to those who were in outward want, whilst it also 
 enabled him to cordially sympathise with the hungry 
 and thirsty in spirit. To himself his wife says, it 
 was " as meat and drink to serve the Lord and His 
 people." The scant details to be found of William 
 Ellis's life are chiefly those recorded in his corre- 
 spondence, but a fewbrief memoranda were made by 
 him during his outward voyage. He thus writes : — 
 
 ^^ Eleventh Month gth, 1697-8. — We had a meeting,. 
 and through deep travail of mind the Lord answered, 
 and filled my heart with the sense of the good things of 
 His kingdom. . . . Now I see it is easy to drink the cup 
 of sweetness and comfort, and many will be thankful to 
 retain it ; but to drink a bitter cup of exercise at the 
 Lord's hand many are unwilling ; yet it is good to labour 
 
WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 329 
 
 to take it thankfully at the hand of the Lord : for those 
 that do so in patience may be sure that the Lord will 
 give them to drink of ihe cup of consolation." 
 
 The voyage was a perilous one, and the vessel 
 narrowly escaped being wrecked when only two miles 
 from Virginia. Very soon after landing the ministers 
 set to work, and William Ellis's heart overflowed 
 with gratitude and joy for opportunities granted and 
 ability imparted to declare the tidings of salvation. 
 And this blessed beginning to his labours confirms 
 his trust that God will still aiford him the aid of 
 ** His good presence, which has been," he writes, 
 ** my chiefest pleasure for many years. I often think 
 in my heart that all is too little that I can do for the 
 worthy name of God." Whilst surrounded by fresh 
 scenes and interests the members of his own meeting^ 
 are by no means lost sight of. 
 
 Only three days after writing his first American 
 letter to his wife, he begins an epistle to the Monthly 
 Meeting at Settle, in a postscript to which he asks 
 his friends, when gathered together and feeling the 
 Lord's power, to pray that he may be kept from 
 dangers of every kind. In Virginia the travellers 
 find many in a state of indifference, owing, W^illiam 
 Ellis believed, to their own unwatchfulness, and to 
 the absence of religious visits : indeed their hearts 
 began to warm under the genial influence of the 
 ministry of Aaron Atkinson and himself. 
 
 Whilst in Virginia his life was in great danger, 
 from a sudden squall whilst out in a boat, which he 
 shared with eleven others. After telling Alice Ellis 
 of this adventure, he adds : '' Here is much travel 
 
330 WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 by water, but I will take what care I can, and the 
 rest must be committed to God." Meanwhile she 
 cheers him by the invigorating tone of her letters, 
 never doubting that the Lord, who had hitherto 
 helped them, would still be their all-sufficient strength. 
 " So, my dear love," she writes, " though we be far 
 distant in body, yet, as we keep in the universal love 
 of God, we are present in spirit and as near as ever. 
 I cannot word the nearness I feel in remembrance of 
 thee, which many times causes my soul to rejoice." 
 And then she wins one's heart by the unselfish ex- 
 pression of her fear lest he should be " drawn home- 
 ward over soon," and of her earnest hope that he will 
 be " very careful to mind the drawing of the Father's 
 love. When in sleep (she continues) methought I 
 had been talking with thee, and saying, ' Take thy 
 time, and perform thy service fully. Take no care of 
 me as for outward 'things.' " Another of her letters 
 is thus ended : " I daily feel the shedding abroad of 
 the love of God to fill my soul and to overcome my 
 spirit, so that He makes up all wants, on all hands, 
 on every account : such are His doings to those that 
 serve Him with a wiUing mind. . . . So, my dear 
 .love, let not the care thou hast for me lie over hard 
 upon thee ; only remember me in that bond which 
 cannot be broken. And in this inexpressible love do 
 I remain thy true and loving wife." We cannot 
 wonder when her husband reminds her that he has 
 ever found her true in his greatest trials. 
 
 Whilst the travellers were in North Carolina, some 
 negroes were deeply impressed by their ministry. 
 Amongst the numerous letters which followed William 
 
WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 33I 
 
 Ellis to the New World — so much further off in those 
 days than in our own, excepting only the numeration 
 of miles — were two or three from a Friend of Airton, 
 named Adam Squire. He was probably several years 
 younger than WilHam Ellis, who reminds him in a 
 letter, that he has told him of things for his good, as 
 if '* thou hadst been my son. And still [he adds] my 
 counsel is to thee, to hold on in every good work, and 
 let everybody have the benefit of thy love to the 
 Truth." To his wife William Ellis writes : '' I can- 
 not express the good I had by Adam Squire's letter ; 
 tell him I say not much, but my deep desires are 
 that he may be kept safe from the hurtful things of 
 this world." Adam Squire wrote, it would seem, with 
 the twofold aim of animating his friend by the mani- 
 festation of his deep spiritual sympathy, and of 
 appealing to him for his prayerful aid. 
 
 " My friend, whom I dearly love," he says, '* in the 
 everlasting Truth, I beg it of thee to pray unto the Lord 
 in the secret of thy heart, that I may be preserved out of 
 the snares of death. . . . O that thou would call to mind 
 when thou wast beset, as it were, with enemies within 
 and without ! and as thou patiently waitedst upon the 
 Lord how He in his due time wrought thy deliverance 
 every way ; so that now thou art become free to the com- 
 monwealth of Israel ; and then thou mayst remember 
 me before the great Lord. ... I cannot word my desires 
 in this respect, but believe thou hast a feeling sense of 
 my condition, and that to thy private supplications the 
 Lord will say, Amen." 
 
 Before attending the General Yearly Meeting for 
 Pennsylvania, William Ellis and Aaron Atkinson 
 were present at a Meeting of Ministers and Elders, 
 
332 WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 of a week's duration,* held at the house of Samuel 
 Jennings, of Burlington. Two other English Friends 
 attended this meeting, Mary Rogers and Elizabeth 
 Webb. The latter had been brought up as a member 
 of the Church of England, and went to a school 
 which was kept by a clergyman, who was very kind 
 to her, and whom she greatly loved and respected ; 
 indeed, in her childhood, she thought that ministers 
 of religion ''resembled angels bringing glad tidings 
 to the children of men." She was, therefore, troubled 
 and perplexed when, at the age of fourteen, she no- 
 ticed the frivolous conversation of the chaplain of a 
 knight, in whose family she then resided. At this 
 time she was very earnestly longing for an assurance 
 of salvation : she thought of the promises made at 
 her baptism, that she should renounce the devil and 
 all his works, and the pomps and vanities of this 
 wicked world — which had many attractions for her 
 young heart — and felt her utter powerlessness to 
 keep such vows. 
 
 Whilst seeking for aid from the Scriptures, she 
 was struck by Christ's injunction, " Freely ye have 
 received, fresly give," as well as by the declaration 
 -that those who run when the Lord has not sent them 
 
 * In William Ellis's memoranda of this meeting, the following 
 passages occur : — " Friends being met together, and the Lord's 
 power and presence eminently attending the meeting, divers testi- 
 monies and cautions were delivered. . . . Whereas it was the way of 
 the world to forget God, yet the Lord had gathered us to Himself, 
 that we could not forget Him ; for though we came poor and empty 
 together, the Lord met us with a full hand. . . . The wisdom of 
 God was to be waited for, therefore Friends were cautioned to wait 
 for it in silence. . . . None should go before or stay behind the power 
 of that which had called them.'' 
 
WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 333 
 
 -should not profit the people at all. Child as she was, 
 
 -she pondered these things, and when reading Ezekiel 
 
 xxiv. found much comfort in her soul-weariness from 
 
 the promise that God will " bind up that which was 
 
 broken, and will strengthen that which was sick." 
 
 She thought of how gladly she would have followed 
 
 the Redeemer had she lived in the days when He 
 
 was personally on earth ; not knowing, at this early 
 
 period of life, the present and far greater privilege, 
 
 open to the truly dedicated believer, of union with 
 
 his risen Lord. The views which she had imbibed 
 
 from the Bible with regard to ministry led her to the 
 
 belief that she ought to give up her attendance at 
 
 church ; yet, perhaps from a fear of the surprise or 
 
 displeasure of her friends, she did not act on this 
 
 conviction, until driven to do so by her dread of what 
 
 might be the consequence of a persistent disobedience 
 
 to what shq now felt was the will of God concerning 
 
 her. Possibly the unusual course she took was 
 
 passed lightly over as a girlish whim ; at all events, 
 
 we are not told that it brought her into trouble. It 
 
 was, we may believe, a hard trial, also, to give heed 
 
 to the heavenly voice, which called her to forsake 
 
 vain habits and worldly society, until she realised 
 
 that a Saviour's love could far more than compensate 
 
 for all she might abandon at His bidding. '* O 
 
 Lord," was her frequent prayer, " preserve me in 
 
 Thy fear and in Thy Truth ; show me Thy way, and 
 
 make known Thy mind and will unto me. O Lord ! 
 
 where dost Thou feed Thy flock ? " 
 
 It is easy to imagine that in those days, as she 
 herself says, " she walked alone." Three or four 
 
334 WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 years earlier she had once or twice attended a Friends* 
 meeting, and now the doctrine and even some of the 
 words of a minister to whom she then listened came 
 freshly to her remembrance. The mental develop- 
 ment during this interval — for she was now about 
 sixteen — and above all the teaching of the Holy 
 Spirit, of which she had availed herself, led her to 
 recognise the agreement between the teaching of the 
 New Testament, and the leading views of Friends, 
 which she more clearly understood after reading a 
 little book on the subject. But the false pleasures 
 with which the subtle enemy once more endeavoured 
 to allure her from a steadfast adherence to Christ, 
 had not yet lost their power to charm, and she tried 
 to persuade herself that she might retain them a 
 little longer, and yield a whole-hearted allegiance to 
 God when she grew older. 
 
 This change in her feelings was, no doubt, in the 
 first place, the result, and in the second, the con- 
 tinuing cause, of the relinquishment of her recent 
 serious habits ; for she writes, " I let go my exercise 
 of watching and praying, and left off retirement. 
 Pride and vanity grew up again ; the Divine, sweet, 
 meek, loving Spirit withdrew, and I could not find it 
 again when I pleased, although I did seek it some- 
 times ; for I could have been pleased with the sweet 
 comforts of His love, yet I did not like to bear the 
 daily cross." Believing that the Friends frequently 
 tasted the sweetness of the love of God in their 
 meetings, she sometimes went a considerable dis- 
 tance in order to attend one, yet could not find the 
 comfort she yearned for. By bitter experience she 
 
WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 335 
 
 learnt that no man can serve two masters, and her 
 distress was often extreme ; but when about nineteen 
 she took the blessed resolution to give herself up into 
 the hands of God: " O Lord, if I perish it shall be 
 at the gate of Thy mercy. I will give up my soul,, 
 my life, and all into Thy holy hand ; do Thy pleasure 
 by me. Thy judgments are just, for I have slighted 
 Thy sweet love." 
 
 Such an abandonment of her all to Infinite Love,. 
 Infinite Power, and Infinite Wisdom, could not be in 
 vain ; the heart, which to herself had seemed so hard, 
 was broken, and once more she rejoiced in a Saviour's 
 mercy. But, for the fulfilment of the purposes of 
 His own good pleasure concerning her, and, it may 
 be, for the sake of those whom she should influence 
 in future years, the Lord saw good to try her faith 
 yet further and more deeply. 
 
 " 'Twas hard the unbroken dark to bear, 
 But harder still re-gathering night." 
 
 As in numberless instances before her day, and 
 countless ones since, " The Lord was near, btit she 
 knew it not." Her anguish was intensified by the 
 temptation to question the truths recorded in the 
 sacred Scriptures, because she could not understand 
 them, forgetting the impossibility of the Infinite being 
 clearly comprehended by the finite. " The world by 
 wisdom knew not God,** and how many, even of 
 powerful intellect, have been well content to say — 
 
 " I am not skilled to understand 
 What has God willed, what God has planned, 
 I only know at His right hand 
 
 Stands One who is my Saviour, 
 
^^6 WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 " * I take God at His word ' and deed, 
 Christ died to save me — thus I read, 
 And in my heart I find a need 
 
 Of Him to be My Saviour." 
 
 But, as one who trod a similar path fifty years 
 earlier has said — "A storm lasteth but for a time, 
 and winter is but for a season, and the night remains 
 not always." After a while a wonderful measure of 
 heavenly love, life, and light, was granted her. She 
 saw clearly that, " purifying, saving faith, is the gift 
 'of God, and the very spring and vital principle of it 
 Divine love." And such was her sense of this love 
 that she felt she could covenant with her Lord to lay 
 down her life for Him, if such were His will ; yet 
 even now the enemy would fain have caused her to 
 stumble in the path of daily self-denial. But grace 
 was granted her to bear each cross imposed by One 
 who knows how to adapt His discipline to the varied 
 wants of His children, who are no more skilled in 
 •choosing crosses for themselves than in directing their 
 steps aright ; and whose aim should be to wholly 
 yield themselves to the transforming hand of the 
 Lord who died for them. 
 
 When reviewing this portion of her life, whilst never 
 in the least questioning that the love of the world, 
 and the indwelling of the love of the Father are in- 
 compatible, and believing that every son and daugh- 
 ter whom He receives He chastens, tries, and proves 
 — she yet does not hesitate to say: "If it please 
 the Almighty to accept of souls without leading them 
 through such fiery trials as He brought me through, 
 or without requiring such things of them as He re- 
 quired of me, far be it from me to judge that such 
 
WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 337 
 
 have not known the Lord, or the indwellings of His 
 love, if the fruits of the spirit of Jesus be plain upon 
 them. 
 
 And now the time was come when she did indeed, 
 to use her own forcible expression, " reap the benefit 
 of the end of the coming of Christ . . . who said, * I 
 am come that they might have life, and that they 
 might have it more abundantly.' " Constrained by 
 this love she found it to be her duty to kneel in the 
 congregation of His people, to acknowledge His great 
 goodness, and to ask for its continuance, and after- 
 wards felt as if her soul were in a better world, so 
 '* enlightened and enlivened " was it by the love of 
 God. Even the ** fragrant herbs, and beautiful in- 
 nocent flowers had a speaking voice " to her ; the 
 judgments of God had become sweet, and she was 
 led to bid others " prove the Lord by an obedient, 
 humble, innx)cent walking before Him, that they 
 might see that He would pour out of His spiritual 
 blessings in so plentiful a manner that the overflow- 
 ings would return to Him who is the Fountain." 
 Although the sweet consciousness of her Lord's pre- 
 sence might for a while be withdrawn, when the light 
 of His countenance again shone on her. He seemed 
 to be nearer than before ; and her soul, she says, 
 loved to dwell with Him, although He is a consum- 
 ing fire to the corrupt nature of the old man ; words 
 which may recall Whittier's lines : — 
 
 "Thou judgest us : Thy purity 
 Doth all our lusts condemn : 
 The love that draws us nearer Thee 
 Is hot with wrath to them." 
 
 ^ *y/ «J* '^^ 
 
33^ WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 She was also learning that " the finite yearning" 
 after the Infinite heart " need never be in vain, and 
 that the soul that is born of God may be daily 
 brought into a closer communion with Him, "breath- 
 ing to Him as constantly by prayer as the sucking 
 child when it is born into the world doth draw in and 
 breathe out the common air. . . . It is a certain sign 
 to me [she continues] of the Divine life and health of 
 a soul, if I find it sweetly breathing unto the Lord, 
 and hungering and thirsting after His righteousness." 
 
 As Elizabeth Webb was one day sitting in a meet- 
 ing for worship, waiting on the Lord for the renewal 
 of spiritual strength, a passage of Scripture afresh 
 applied to her soul by the Holy Spirit afforded her 
 extreme consolation. And from that hour there was 
 granted her, she says, " a more abundant entrance 
 into the heavenly kingdom." Nor need we regard 
 this as a mere mystical phrase, for is it not easy to 
 imagine that problems, unsolved by the wise and 
 prudent, as to whether " the heavenly places " (Eph. 
 ii. 6) — to quote Dean Alford's vi^ords — " are to be 
 taken as present or future, actual or potential, literal 
 or spiritual, will be easily disposed of by those who 
 -have apprehended the truth of the believer's union 
 in and with Christ ? " 
 
 Her first ministerial journey was to the North of 
 England, and spiritual conflicts were often her por- 
 tion, although the guidance of her steps by her gra- 
 cious Lord seemed to be as clear as the pointing of 
 the needle of a compass. In the summer of 1697, -^ 
 whilst in the meeting at Gloucester, where she ) 
 then resided, her heart was, in a time of stillness. 
 
WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 339 
 
 remarkably drawn out towards the inhabitants oi ^^ 
 America, and overcome by the love of God, under 
 the influence of which she knelt to offer prayer on 
 their behalf. By night and day the subject rested 
 on her mind, peace or sorrow following her in turn, 
 as she either mentally gave herself up to cross the 
 ocean at the bidding of her Lord, or yielded to fears 
 of her unfitness for the mission. Her husband was 
 at first unwilling that she should visit such a distant 
 land, and she told him she would not do so without 
 his free consent; but when she became ill of a violent 
 fever he granted the longed-for permission, saying it 
 would be easier to part with her for seven years than 
 to have her taken from him for ever; and a few 
 months later she sailed from Bristol, with a Friend 
 named Mary Rogers. It was in the following year 
 that William Ellis met with them, at the Phila- 
 delphia Yearly Meeting, as already stated. Ten years 
 later, John and Elizabeth Webb settled in Pennsyl- .y 
 vania; but in 1712, she returned to Great Britain for 
 awhile, on a Gospel mission. 
 
 William Ellis and'Aaron Atkinson next visited New 
 England, where the former, in the midst of much 
 physical weakness, found the Lord to be his strength, 
 though sometimes greatly troubled by the thought of 
 what his wife's distress would be should he not live 
 to return to her. His heart must have been glad- 
 dened, twelve months afterwards, to learn from a 
 letter signed by fourteen New England Friends that 
 a great blessing had rested on the labours of his 
 companions and himself. To John Wynn he writes, 
 from Philadelphia : ** The Lord had grafted that care 
 
340 WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 on my heart to supplicate Him daily for new sup- 
 plies. I see little to boast of, unless it be weakness : 
 and, as I have travelled in a sense of these things, 
 the Lord hath wonderfully assisted my spirit." Before 
 leaving that city for his return voyage, in a letter to 
 a friend who had shown him kind hospitality, he 
 says : " I believe the love of God is much towards 
 thee, and if thou mind the Word that is ingrafted 
 in thy heart it will open thy understanding in things 
 pertaining to thy salvation ; and, let men say of it 
 what they will, I do know that it is the leaven of 
 the kingdom." 
 
 Whilst rejoicing to be homeward-bound, William 
 Ellis must have felt that he was leaving behind him 
 not a few from whom his spirit could never be sepa- 
 rated ; for, doubtless, the thoughts expressed by them 
 were mutual. " I shall have that spiritual enjoyment 
 of thee," writes Phineas Pemberton (at one time a 
 member of Council and Speaker of the Assembly of 
 Pennsylvania), *' of which the saints in fellowship 
 are made partakers, and wherein we are often com- 
 forted in those dear remembrances." Whilst another 
 says : " I could not well omit to signify my true love 
 -to thee, and unity with that measure of the blessed, 
 holy power, which I have had a sense of as attending 
 thy ministry ; and thy plain doctrine ; and of thy 
 promoting true spiritual and inward worship to God." 
 An extract from one more farewell note must suffice : 
 " Dear heart, our spirits go along with thee, and 
 love follows, and melts and runs towards thee ; but 
 it is for His sake who sets the fountain open : for 
 His love's sake we love thee." 
 
WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 34I 
 
 At a later date, Nathan Newby, of Nancemund, 
 remarks, in a letter in which he tells William Ellis 
 that for the two preceding years he had felt it his 
 duty to publicly testify for God : ** O, that I could 
 have a time with thee, if it cost me the travelling 
 some hundreds of miles ! " William Ellis's deep 
 interest in the welfare of the cause of Christ in the 
 New World is manifested in letters to his brethren 
 there, one of whom he thus counsels : — 
 
 " Stir about now and then, and see how Friends meet 
 on week-days ; and when thy spirit is full of life and 
 sweetness, if thou drop a word or two amongst Friends, 
 
 I do think it will be to profit Put Friends in mind 
 
 to visit John Lewis's meeting now and then My 
 
 soul — O, my soul within me is in a deep travail for your 
 growth in the most precious truth ! " 
 
 He afterwards expresses his desire "that all who feel 
 God's word like a fire in their hearts may run to and 
 fro to spread the truth." Again, his concern for 
 some, probably, small meetings is evinced by his 
 advice that those to whom he was writing should 
 " now and then step down to Potomac, and sit 
 amongst the poor people there," whose hearts would 
 thus, he believes, be comforted, even if no word were 
 spoken among them ; and also suggests that " some- 
 times one and sometimes another should run over to 
 the Bay," taking some ministers with them. To 
 such service as this, he believed, the Lord would 
 say, " Well done ! " 
 
 Aaron Atkinson did not return to England until i-' 
 the early part of 1700. William Ellis and himself 
 had frequently parted from each other whilst in 
 
342 WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 America, for the better accomplishment of their 
 mission ; and also in consequence of the severe illness 
 of the latter, who tells William Ellis, in a note 
 written soon after landing in England, that he could 
 not forget the sad expression of his face at the time 
 of this trial, and that he believed the prayers he then 
 offered had availed before God. He adds : " I came 
 over in the same ship thou camest in, and lay in the 
 same cabin thou lay in ; and I loved it the better for 
 thy sake." 
 
 In 1702, William Ellis had some property left him 
 by a Friend named Jennet Stow, whose home was 
 not far from Airton. She became a minister in early 
 life, and visited many parts of Great Britain and 
 Ireland. At the age of thirty she died of consump- 
 tion, at Dronfield, in Derbyshire, and was attended 
 in her last illness by a physician named Gilbert 
 Heathcot, who much esteemed his young patient, 
 and remarked that she was helpful to him in her life 
 and death. As her end drew nigh she spoke of the 
 blessedness of living near the Lord, and of how her 
 heart was warmed by His goodness : " Lord, Thou 
 hast turned me every way; Thou hast made me 
 what Thou wouldst have me to be. Praised be Thy 
 holy name ! " She said that God had indeed fulfilled 
 the promise which she believed was made her when, 
 in her weakness, she had been ready to shrink from 
 the mission set before her : "Be not afraid ; for, 
 though thou art weak, yet I am strong ; and I will 
 make thee a trumpet in my hand which shall give a 
 certain sound." 
 
 In 1705, William Ellis writes to tell William 
 
WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 343 
 
 Edmundson of the death of a young Friend, to whom 
 they were both attached. " I am touched with sor- 
 row at my very heart," William Edmundson replies, 
 "for the loss of dear Isaac Alexander. . . . The 
 Lord's mighty power accompanied his testimony. 
 We travelled together in sweet unity, and parted in 
 that love and life that death and the grave cannot over- 
 come.'" Isaac Alexander had afterwards sent several 
 letters to his aged friend, and had asked him to be- 
 queath him some written counsel, not foreseeing that 
 his own pilgrimage would be ended first. At his 
 earliest visit to the home of William and Alice Ellis 
 he had found his "very soul knit and united to 
 them ; " and in a letter to the former he expresses 
 his hope for the life-long increase of " the living, feel- 
 ing enjoyment of this hearty, spiritual nearness, and 
 heavenly gospel fellowship." His ministry began in 
 his seventeenth year, and in the course of his short 
 life he travelled extensively, visiting all the meetings 
 of Friends in Scotland and Ireland, and most of those 
 in England and Wales. He died at the age of twenty- 
 five, and, during his last illness, often alluded to the 
 Lord's abounding mercy to him. " Oh ! what an 
 excellent thing it is," he said, "to keep in the truth 
 and visit one another in the life of it. . . . Love God ; 
 love God ; you can never love God too much. Oh ! 
 what hath He done for my soul. I have seen glorious 
 things, yea, such things as I never saw before. I 
 beheld a Friend, lately deceased, in a glorious place, 
 and that I was to be with him ; and I said, it is 
 enough to be there ; oh ! such salvation." His prayer 
 for " an easy passage out of the world," was granted, 
 
344 WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 his dying words being, "Now I will fall upon my 
 sleep." 
 
 After William Ellis's return from America his 
 missions were chiefly confined to his own county and- 
 those immediately around it, although he often at- 
 tended the London Yearly Meeting. During the last 
 few years, especially, of his life he suffered acutely 
 from the malady which terminated his life in 1709,, 
 when in his fifty-first year. Yet not many weeks- 
 before his death he took advantage of a slight im- 
 provement in health to attend a Yearly Meeting at 
 Lancaster ; at its close a remarkable meeting was. 
 held, when the Almighty Head of the Church mani- 
 festly reigned over those assembled, constraining 
 many of His children to speak v/ell of His name. A 
 Friend from Wales, who was present, says : — 
 
 " A sweet, pure current of life largely flowed through 
 the meeting. . . . William Ellis had a blessed opportu- 
 nity, and was carried on in the power and life of truth,, 
 even beyond a usual manner. Oh ! methinks it affects 
 my heart to remember the glorious presence of the Lord' 
 that appeared with him, he being full of love, full of zeal,, 
 full of courage, and as one triumphant over the devil and 
 the powers of darkness, and in the divine region of light 
 and life. This was indeed a glorious season." 
 
 It is traditionally stated that Alice Ellis was absent 
 
 from home at the time of her husband's death, having 
 
 gone to a distant place to attend a meeting; and that 
 
 / after they had parted, he took his stand on some 
 
 / rising ground that he might keep her in view as long 
 
 / as possible, having a presentiment that they should 
 
 not meet again in this world. On his death-bed, 
 
 when speaking to one of his friends of the time of his- 
 
WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 345 
 
 conversion, he said, " It was a glorious day for me, 
 and I have large tokens that the day of my death 
 will be so also." 
 
 A few years earlier, William Ellis had conveyed to 
 trustees his house and certain lands, directing that 
 after the death of his wife and himself, they should 
 " farm the said premises a pennyworth unto Friends, 
 by way of scorn called Quakers, who should willingly 
 entertain such teachers as might be called of God, 
 and by Him commissioned and sent abroad to preach 
 the Gospel in the free dispensation thereof." After 
 needful deductions the rents accruing were to be em- 
 ployed for putting out as apprentices the poor children 
 belonging to York Quarterly Meeting, and also the 
 children of the poor *' of what profession soever," re- 
 siding in Airton and two neighbouring villages. 
 
 William Ellis had had many apprentices to linen- 
 weaving under his care, and his wife and himself 
 were deeply interested in the welfare of youths of 
 this class. Alice Ellis also conveyed to trustees a 
 close, called Welldales, a portion of the rents of 
 which was to be used in paying the future tenant of 
 the house in which she still lived for the board and 
 lodging of travelling ministers of the Society of 
 Friends. She arranged that the great bedsteads and 
 such other things as were nailfast and heirlooms, 
 should remain for the use of the tenants, that they 
 might the better entertain travelling Friends. 
 
 The house, now inhabited by George Cartwright 
 and family, is kept hospitably open, but the " six 
 men's coats and six women's hoods," which Alice 
 Ellis provided for the use of visitors in rough 
 
34^ WILLIAM ELLIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 weather, it has long been thought needless to 
 renew. 
 
 In her sympathetic kindheartedness we find that 
 the poor widows of Friends are especially borne in 
 mind in another benefaction. She lived until the 
 year 1720. Her loss appears to have been widely as 
 well as deeply felt, for she delighted in showing 
 hospitality, and was a true friend to the poor, freely 
 •dispensing what had been acquired by patient indus- 
 try. She was a very regular attendant of meetings, 
 and earnestly longed for the advancement of the 
 kingdom of her Lord. 
 
 To men and women, such as those who form this 
 faintly-sketched group, the following quotation seems 
 applicable whilst revealing the secret of their lives : 
 *' The crowning excellence of their ministry, and that 
 of every man and woman who faithfully received their 
 message — and followed, in their measure, where their 
 leaders guided — was the entire consecration of their 
 lives, as knowing no aim but the glory of Christ ; 
 and no happiness which interfered with a constant 
 ^nd abiding communion with Him." 
 
347 
 
 RICHARD CLARIDGE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 " Travellers at night, by fleeing 
 Cannot run into the day : 
 God can lead the blind and seeing ; 
 On Him wait, and for Him stay: 
 Be not fearful, be not fearful, 
 They who cannot sing can pray I " — T. T. Lynch. 
 
 Early in the year 1698, good Richard Baxter 
 preached one day in Charter-House-yard, whilst 
 keeping his seat in the pulpit on account of the 
 feebleness caused rather by ill-health than old age. 
 Amongst his hearers was a very talented and highly- 
 educated clergyman, who had cometo London from his 
 WorcestersHire rectory with the hope that the minis- 
 try of some celebrated preacher might afford him the 
 enlightenment, comfort, and help, which his soul 
 had in vain craved for. Baxter gave out his text : 
 *' But the sons of Belial shall be all of them as 
 thorns thrust away, because they cannot be taken 
 with hands," &c. (2 Sam. xxiii. 6, 7) — and as these 
 words fell on the ears of Richard Claridge he feared 
 that they might be applicable to himself and was so 
 weighed down with mental anguish that he was ready 
 to sink under it ; but, unknown to himself, the ever- 
 lasting arms were underneath. 
 
 He was the son of a Warwickshire yeoman, and 
 was now about forty years of age. At St. Mary's 
 
34^ RICHARD CLARIDGE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Hall, Oxford, he had gained a high standing in 
 philosophy, and as an orator and Greek scholar, — at 
 the age of twenty-one taking his degree as a Bachelor 
 of Arts. Three years later he became rector of 
 Peopleton, where he kept a grammar-school, and 
 prepared pupils for the Universities. He describes 
 this portion of his life as being a mixture of vice and 
 virtue. He prepared his sermons with studious dili- 
 gence and delivered them with eloquence, preaching 
 repentance and regeneration, although practically 
 unacquainted with either. Meanwhile, notwithstand- 
 ing an uneasy conscience, he again and again yielded 
 to temptation, ignoring the injunction, " Quench not 
 the Spirit " ; until at length his sins were so plainly 
 set before him that he became overwhelmed with fear, 
 and Baxter's sermon, as we have seen, instead of 
 alleviating, increased his distress. 
 
 Nor did he fare better under the teaching of several 
 clergymen whose churches he attended whilst in 
 London. One day, indeed, he did expect comfort 
 and cheer, when the following text was given out, 
 " Lord, Thou wilt ordain peace for us, for Thou hast 
 wrought all our works in us," but was bitterly dis- 
 appointed at only hearing a long disquisition on the 
 advantages which the nation had derived from the 
 advent of the Prince of Orange. One cannot, how- 
 ever, be surprised to learn that he found some con- 
 solation from a sermon by an Independent minister 
 on the text, " In whom we have redemption through 
 His blood," &c., although much of the address struck 
 him as being unsatisfactory and irrelevant. 
 
 On his return to his parish he prayerfully strove to 
 
RICHARD CLARIDGE AND HIS FRIENDS. 349 
 
 lead a f^odly life, and at the same time began to test 
 the doctrines and ceremonies of the Church of Eng- 
 land by the standard of the Scriptures, — an exami- 
 nation which resulted in the conviction that, great 
 as was the cost, he must renounce the Church of 
 which for nearly twenty years he had been a 
 highly-esteemed minister. His prayers for Heavenly 
 guidance and support were granted, and in the sum- 
 mer of 1691 he resigned the rectory of Peopleton, his 
 last sermon being on the text, " But in vain do they 
 worship Me, teaching for doctrines the command- 
 ments of men." He comprised what he had to say 
 in the one proposition — *' That all that faith and 
 worship which men taught for doctrines, and could not 
 be found in the Scriptures, were the commandments 
 of men, and was vain worship, and unacceptable 
 before God ; " pressing his hearers " not to receive 
 things upon the authority of any, whether kings, 
 parliaments, convocations, or bishops ; but in every 
 article of faith, and in every part of worship, and 
 every rite, usage, or ceremony enjoined, to examine 
 it by the Scriptures, which are the only revealed 
 rule of faith and practice." He believed that Divine 
 help was afforded him, and finished the service with 
 an earnest prayer that his auditory might be taught 
 of God. 
 
 After leaving the Established Church his character 
 was violently assailed by some who now viewed him 
 as an enemy. ** I stand amazed," he writes, "to 
 think how the scene is so soon changed, and that I, 
 whilst of their communion, should pass for a very 
 honest man, and now should be such a knave as they 
 
350 RICHARD CLARIDGE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 endeavour to paint me." He then joined himself to 
 the Baptists, hoping he says, to find their " doctrine, 
 worship, and ordinances in all things conformable 
 unto the primitive pattern of our Lord Jesus Christ 
 and His holy apostles." But on the day on which 
 he was baptised, as he was removing his wet gar- 
 ments, he was shocked when some one who entered 
 the • room said, whilst taking off his hat with sham 
 politeness, " You are welcome, sir, out of one form 
 into another ! " These words sank deeply into his. 
 heart, from which secretly arose the bitter cry, "Lord ! 
 what a condition am I in ! Is this all the advance I 
 have made ? " Yet for a time his doubts were allayed 
 by some of his Baptist friends, and about twelve 
 months later he was installed as minister of one 
 of their London chapels. Talented scholar and 
 eloquent speaker though he might be, he was already 
 beginning to entertain such views of the ministry as 
 led Stephen Grellet to say, that he "could no more 
 preach a sermon than he could make a world " ; for 
 about this date he writes, " It is blessed preaching 
 of the Gospel when Christ inspires the preachers 
 and the sermon is His, not theirs. . . . We may 
 talk an hour or two, but if Christ be not with us by 
 His Spirit, it is but an useless, empty sound." 
 
 In the spring of the following year Richard 
 Claridge was married to a lady named Mary Tomkins, 
 who was his third wife. After a while, a longing 
 arose in his heart for an experimental acquaintance 
 with the baptism of the Spirit, of which he was now 
 convinced that baptism with water was but a type, 
 a temporary dispensation belonging to the ministry 
 
RICHARD CLARIDGE AND HIS FRIENDS. 351 
 
 of John : * for his mind had been gradua,lly im- 
 pressed with the belief that the dispensation of the 
 Gospel is a ministration of the Spirit though at first it 
 was merely "a kind of glimmering of a higher state 
 and a more spiritual worship." His distress and 
 bewilderment were great, and were increased even 
 in proportion to the further light which broke on his 
 soul, and showed him that the question was not one 
 only of the right way of worshipping, but also of the 
 qualification of the heart for its right performance ; 
 that (to quote his own words) " it was not the name 
 of Christian without the nature, nor the profession 
 of religion without the possession, that would do; 
 all must be parted with that was contrary to the 
 holy will of God, which is our sanctification; and 
 that not in part, but wholly, as the Apostle's prayer 
 was." (i Thess. v. 23.) 
 
 Yet this season of perplexity was also one of bless- 
 ing, in which William Law's wise words — addressed 
 to Wesley in his young days — might have been 
 applied to him : " You are troubled because you do 
 not understand how God is dealing with you. Per- 
 haps if you did, it would not so well answer His 
 design. He is teaching you to trust Him further 
 than you can see Him.'' He sought for solitude, but 
 found that the Lord was near, and whilst waiting in 
 
 • " By the true Baptism of the New Testament we do actually 
 put on Christ, and are made one with Christ ; and this is not done 
 oy water-washing, but by the Spirit. . . . The Spirit carrying us into 
 Christ, and bringing Christ into us, and being one and the same 
 Spirit in both; and this is to be baptised into Christ." — The Doctrine 
 of Baptisms. By William Dell, Minister of the Gospel, and Master 
 of Gonvil and Caius College, in Cambridge. 1652. 
 
352 RICHARD CLARIDGE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 lowliness of heart upon Him, "the light of the know- 
 ledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ" 
 was graciously granted, and wij:h heart-tendering 
 power. And now the idea, which had so strongly im- 
 pressed his mind, that the dispensation of the Gospel 
 is a ministration' of the Spirit, was made plain to him 
 as his Saviour enlightened the eyes of his under- 
 standing. " I came to see," he writes, an end of all 
 former dispensations, as of Moses, the prophets, or 
 John, which had their time ; or such as men had 
 shaped and fashioned in their own wisdom. I saw 
 also what God had to be and remain as the highest 
 •dispensation, the immediate teachings of Christ by the 
 Holy Spirit:' 
 
 Richard Claridge now gradually withdrew from the 
 Baptist community, by many of whose members he 
 was much beloved, and began to frequent the meet- 
 ings of Friends, to which he soon regularly resorted, 
 finding, as his biographer Besse states, " their min- 
 istry to be lively and edifying, and their meetings 
 attended with the gracious presence of God, minis- 
 tering abundant consolation and refreshment to weary 
 and waiting souls." Several leading men amongst 
 ±he Baptists retained a personal regard for him after 
 he became a Friend, and freely discussed doctrinal 
 points with him. In the course of a conversation 
 Avith the pastor of a country Baptist congregation, 
 Vv^ho had come to London to visit Richard Claridge, 
 the latter observed that the Apostle Paul grounds his 
 prayer for perfect sanctification upon the faithfulness 
 of God; God is faithfid, who also will do it. "To 
 •walk with God is to walk in the light, as God is in 
 
RICHARD CLARIDGE AND HIS FRIENDS. 353 
 
 the light. And he that walketh in the light, the 
 blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth him from all sin. 
 The question is not whether good men are not liable 
 to commit sin, which I do not deny, but whether good 
 men have not been freed from sin ? " 
 
 A few days later we find him at the meeting held 
 at the house of Sarah Sawyer, in Aldersgate Street, 
 during which he bore witness to the grace of God in 
 his own experience ; thus for the first time speaking 
 in a meeting of Friends. He was soon afterwards 
 much cheered by a visit from an aged minister named 
 Francis Camfield, who spoke of how those who knew 
 something of the work of the Lord should be instru- 
 mental in His hand to edify one another in their most 
 holy faith, and counselled him "to wait in the 
 strength of the Lord, and to take heed of making 
 haste." Richard Claridge was greatly comforted by 
 his interview with this venerable Friend, who spoke 
 also of how the Lord taught all true Christians to 
 overcome. They did not part until eight p.m., when 
 Richard Claridge accompanied him to his house in 
 Bartholomew Close. He was likewise much helped 
 by visits made him from time to time by a large 
 number of other Friends. George Whitehead, after 
 hearing from his own lips many details of the Lord's 
 dealings with him, cordially encouraged him to 
 press forward in the path of the just. A week later, 
 Thomas Story, Gilbert MoUeson, and Aaron Atkin- 
 son spent some hours with him. It is recorded by 
 some 'of Aaron Atkinson*s contemporaries that he 
 " anointed for the ministry in early life in a very ex- 
 traordinary manner ; " and as he was now on the eve 
 
 2 A 
 
354 RICHARD CLARIDGE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 of embarking for America, in company with William 
 Ellis, a fervent longing arose in Richard Claridge's 
 heart that he might have a favourable voyage, and 
 that his Transatlantic labours might be crowned 
 with the blessing of the Lord. 
 
 About this time, when writing of the ministry, 
 Richard Claridge remarks : — " The apostles of Christ 
 did not preach in their own wills, nor from their own 
 reading and premeditation. When they preached, 
 they spake as the oracles of God, according to the 
 measure and ability He gave. . . . We must be still 
 and silent before the Lord, and wait for the draw- 
 ings and influences of the Holy Spirit, and feel the . 
 constrainings of His power." 
 
 Towards the end of the following year, Richard 
 
 Claridge went one day to Newington to attend the 
 
 first Friends' meeting held there, and thus missed a 
 
 visit from Mary Gulson, of Coventry, who spent 
 
 some time in prayer with his wife and a few other 
 
 Friends. He had already reaped great advantage 
 
 from the counsel of this experienced Christian, and 
 
 on the following evening he went to Lawrence Lane, 
 
 to call at the house where she was staying. The 
 
 interview was a blessed one, their heavenly converse 
 
 being sweetened by the clear consciousness that their 
 
 Lord hearkened and heard. Richard Claridge, whilst 
 
 unable to control his deep emotion, told his faithful 
 
 friend of his spiritual trials and perplexities, and 
 
 she replied, that before coming to London on this 
 
 religious mission she had apprehended his condition, 
 
 and had believed that it was the Lord's will that she 
 
 should especially visit him and one other Friend. 
 
RICHARD CLARIDGE AND HIS FRIENDS. 355 
 
 She encouraged him to believe that God was leading 
 him on in the right way, and would make him a 
 minister of His everlasting Gospel. He asked her 
 to pray for him, to wrestle with the Lord that he 
 might be kept by His mighty power, through faith, 
 unto salvation. They parted, we read, " in the great 
 love of God, and in a deep sense of His wonderful 
 power." On the same day he writes : — '* Blessed be 
 the God of my life. His succours and refreshments 
 have been greater than my exercises and temptations. 
 Sometimes the thoughts of death have awakened 
 me ; ' What ! be idle and do nothing for God ! I 
 will put a spirit of life into thee, and put My words 
 into thy mouth, and thou shalt be My instrument to 
 turn many from darkness to light ! ' But, then, it 
 would open in rae again, ' The time is not yet come. 
 God is faithful who hath promised, and will perform 
 His promise ; y^t the times and seasons He hath put 
 in His own power.' '* ^ 
 
 A year or two later he sent Mary Gulson some 
 copies of his recently-published work, " Mercy Cover- 
 ing the Judgment Seat," apparently a record of the 
 Lord's gracious dealings with himself. He wished 
 to have these books distributed amongst the Baptists 
 residing at Coventry. The parcel was accompanied 
 by a letter in which he remarks : " It is a very pre- 
 cious and comfortable thing to walk in the light as 
 God is in the light. ... In this Divine light wherein 
 we have been enabled to believe, we see and enjoy 
 the pure living presence of the Lord our God ; and 
 therein our fellowship stands ; . . . though we are 
 many members, and may be bodily absent from one 
 
356 RICHARD CLARIDGE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 another, yet we are spiritually present in the Divine 
 li^ht and life of Jesus, who hath baptised us by one 
 Spirit into the one body. . . . What I have enjoyed 
 of His presence in times past is not sufficient food for 
 my soul now ; and therefore my soul waits m humility 
 before Him to feel the rising of His living power to tender 
 my heart before Him, and to make and keep me alive 
 unto Him. ... A glorious and lasting dispensation 
 hath commenced and taken place, which is Christ in 
 us the hope of glory. And I testify that neither 
 Christ Himself in the flesh, barely, nor the Holy 
 Scriptures, though given by inspiration of God, nor 
 any outward ordinances whatsoever, are the true 
 rest of the people of God : but Christ Jesus in His 
 inward, spiritual appearance in our hearts to be our 
 light, life, and hope of glory." * 
 
 In this year, 1700, Richard Claridge removed to 
 Barking, Essex, and there opened a boarding-school, 
 and was soon occupied in visiting some of the meet- 
 ings in the south-eastern counties. He was accom- 
 panied in part of this service by Christopher Meidel, 
 a Norwegian, who had come to England as chaplain 
 to Prince George of Denmark, but had about two 
 years earlier united himself to Friends ; a long 
 practical acquaintance with the work of God in the 
 soul of man seems to have remarkably qualified him 
 
 * Fletcher, of Madeley, writes in a somewhat similar strain in reply 
 to a letter from Lady Mary Fitzgerald : " ' Not a text,' say you, 
 • came to me, only I knew none perished at His feet ' ; then you 
 remembered Christ, the sum and substance of all the Scriptures; 
 then you believed on Him in whom all the sweetest texts and all the 
 promises are Yea and Amen." 
 
RICHARD CLARIDGE AND HIS FRIENDS. 357 
 
 to minister to the needs of others.* Throughout 
 their ministry they were aided arid upheld by the 
 power and presence of their Lord. At Watford they 
 were most heartily and hospitably entertained at the 
 house of Alice Hayes, where they lodged for three 
 nights. Like themselves, she had become a Friend 
 from deep religious conviction. She had been brought 
 up as a member of the Church of England ; in early 
 childhood, when supposed to be almost dying, her 
 mother fervently besought the Lord to take her own 
 life instead of her child's — a prayer which He 
 answered, as Alice Hayes remarks, *' for what end 
 Avas best known to Himself." At the age of sixteen 
 the harshness of her step-mother led her to leave her 
 
 ♦ In the unpublished journal of Thomas Gwinn, of Falmouth, 
 there are interesting allusions to Christopher Meidel. In 1707, 
 Thomas Gwinn met with him at Liskeard, where a meeting was held 
 for the Friends of Devon and Cornwall, and records that Christopher 
 Meidel spoke ip the streets. A few weeks later he writes : " I rid 
 to Truro with some other Friends to visit Christopher Meidel, who 
 was brought from prison there to the Quarter Sessions ; he had been 
 fined £zo by the Sessions before on pretence of disturbing the priest 
 at Liskeard, and while we were with him was called from us to 
 attend the Sessions at Truro, where he was ordered to subscribe the 
 Declaration of Fidelity, but he answered them nothing, so was con- 
 victed to suffer as a popish recusant convert. He preached through 
 the streets immediately as he came forth of the Court, as he did 
 sundry times whilst there. I left with him a paper which I thought 
 might be of service to him to give in to the justices." In the latter 
 part of the same year Thomas Gwinn and another Friend visited 
 Christopher Meidel in Launceston prison. His trials appear at this 
 time to have caused a morbid state of mind, for T. G. says : " We 
 used both arguments and persuasion in much tendernesse and plaine 
 dealing against his working on First-days (as judging it a means to 
 prejudice people against the reception.of our testimony), as also to 
 diswade him from some other imaginary scruples he seemed to labour 
 under, as that he must not write or walk out though he had liberty 
 granted, nor eat some sort of victuals or drinks, nor receive what's 
 needful for his nourishment." In reference to the Yearly Meeting 
 •of 1708, T. G. writes : " I was at the Meeting for Sufferings, and got 
 an order for reimbursing our charge on Christopher Meidel." 
 
358 RICHARD CLARIDGE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 home, and seek a new one in a family whose affection 
 she won, whilst gladly and conscientiously yielding 
 them her services. Her fondness for frivolous pur- 
 suits, for which she had often felt herself chidden by 
 a secret voice, although she knew not whence the 
 warning came, had now greatly lessened ; she en- 
 joyed reading the Holy Scriptures, and frequently 
 sought opportunities for private prayer, besides dili- 
 gently attending public worship. The quietness of 
 her situation was very congenial to her, and her 
 heart was soothed as she perseveringly pursued what 
 she believed to be her right course. 
 
 She had on one occasion a remarkable visitation 
 of Divine love, when she felt that no words were 
 needed, but that her soul was led into a deep sweet 
 silence before the Lord. Probably she was not wholly 
 unprepared for the worship usual amongst Friends, 
 when for the first time she attended one of their meet- 
 ings, at the solicitation of some of her acquaintance^ 
 whose curiosity had been awakened by the rumour 
 that a lady greatly esteemed as a preacher in that 
 Society was to be present. She was affected by her 
 perception of the worship silently ascending to God 
 from many hearts, as well as by the ministry she 
 heard, which so sank into her soul that she could not 
 keep back her tears. But much of the hallowed in- 
 fluence of this season was soon swept away by the 
 strong and subtle enemy. Going soon afterwards to 
 live in the family of a justice of the peace, her new 
 mistress would often say, "This Alice will be a 
 Quaker ; " but no such thought dwelt in her own 
 mind. 
 
RICHARD CLARIDGE AND HIS FRIENDS. 359 
 
 About two years later her health suffered severely 
 from the effect of a terrible sprain in the ancle, and 
 mere serious evil befell her from intercourse with an 
 irreligious family with whom she had found a tem- 
 porary situation, whilst her master and mistress 
 spent the winter in London. As her lameness in- 
 creased she had to return to her father's house, and 
 soon found that sorrow of soul was harder to bear 
 than bodily suffering. She felt that if Christ did not 
 rescue her she was undone for ever, and earnestly 
 sought to enter into covenant with Him. Whilst 
 still a cripple supported on crutches, she was married 
 to " a comely, handsome, honest man," whose faith- 
 fulness and constancy she does not forget to record, 
 for they had become engaged in the time of her 
 health and vigour. These blessings were, however, 
 in a few months' time restored to her ; her walking 
 powers returned, and she seemed to have all that 
 heart could wish for. 
 
 But prosperity, instead of making her strive with a 
 grateful heart to live closer to the Almighty Giver of 
 ever>' good gift, led her to forget Him, until illness 
 brought her almost face to face with death. Then 
 from her agonized soul was wrung the cry, "Spare me 
 a little longer ; try me once more, and I will become 
 a new creature." / will become a new creature ! We 
 see that she had much yet to learn ; yet doubtless 
 her importunate call — like every true prayer which 
 ever has been, or ever will be, offered to God — " came 
 before Him, even into His ears." Holiness she now 
 saw was what her Redeemer called for from her, and 
 she set herself the task of diligently cultivating it. 
 
360 RICHARD CLARIDGE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 But she learnt that this must be the Lord's work, and 
 not hers. She found also, that during the twenty 
 years she had kept Him waiting at the door of her 
 heart, "much fuel " had accumulated for the Refiner's 
 fire. " Oh ! happy man and happy woman," she 
 writes, " that doth thus abide the day of His coming ; 
 for sure I am His fan is in His hand, and if men wdll 
 but submit when He appears, He will thoroughly do 
 that for them which no other can do. This is the 
 baptism that doth people good." Looking back on 
 this portion of her life she felt that a Saviour's secret 
 hand alone had kept her from despair ; for she 
 was uncheered by any counsellor such as, " blessed 
 be God," she writes, " many now have." Week 
 after week she sorrowfully entered and sorrowfully 
 quitted the parish church, finding nothing that 
 would appease the hunger, and allay the thirst of 
 her soul. It was' no marvel that she was sad, for 
 she thought of God only as dwelling far away in the 
 heavens. 
 
 After a while her mind was powerfully impressed 
 with the belief that it would be right for her to go to 
 a Friends' meeting, but the idea of doing so was very 
 distasteful, and for long she tried to persuade herself 
 that, as no angel directed her steps, it was needless 
 to give heed to an inward voice. At last, without 
 telling anyone of her design, she went to a small 
 meeting, where the ministry of a Friend, named 
 Elizabeth Stamper, came as a heavenly message to 
 her soul, answering its deep need ; as if the speaker, 
 whom she had never seen until that day, had been 
 well aware of her spiritual state. She returned home 
 
RICHARD CLARIDGE AND HIS FRIENDS. 361 
 
 with a joyful heart, and from that time heedfully 
 complied with the manifested will of her Lord, and 
 found that no day passed by without some conscious- 
 ness of His presence. She could now do no other 
 than continue to join in the worship of Friends, and 
 this led her into much trouble ; even her husband, 
 being urged to oppose her, treated her with scorn 
 and hatred, threatening to sell his farm and leave 
 her; but nothing could make her swerve from the 
 path appointed her by Him in whom she had found 
 the joy of salvation. Her loyalty to her Saviour was 
 not long allowed to alienate her husband from her ; 
 his affection returned, and after a while he mani- 
 fested some appreciation of the views which were so 
 dear to his wife. 
 
 Alice Hayes became a minister, and, besides visiting 
 many parts of England, had much valuable service in 
 Holland and Germany. Her ministry is described 
 as being very plain and powerful, satisfying the sor- 
 rowful soul, yet applicable to most conditions. Once, 
 after her husband's death, on account of her con- 
 scientious objection to the payment of tithes, she was 
 taken from her farm and five fatherless children and 
 imprisoned for thirteen weeks in St. Alban's Gaol ; 
 she was also deprived of corn and cattle to the 
 amount of " several score pounds." Yet from her 
 inmost soul she could bless God for counting her 
 worthy to suffer for His name's sake, and could bear 
 witness that to "as many as trust in Him, He will 
 give life for the soul and bread for the body.'' 
 
 " The Son of God," she writes, ** is come indeed that 
 we may have life, and it is in obedience that the abound- 
 
362 RICHARD CLARIDGE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 ings of it are known ; . . . Through His precious blood 
 we have all these great benefits. Oh ! who would not be 
 a follower of the Lord ? Remember that you are soldiers 
 under the banner of the unconquered Captain, Christ 
 Jesus, who always stood by His own in every age ; follow 
 Him in all perseverance through good report and bad 
 report, and keep to the standard — the Spirit of Truth. 
 If you do this you may pray for what you stand in need 
 of, let it be bread for soul or for body, or for faith or hope, 
 or courage, or the armour of light, or whatever else your 
 wants may be. Take courage and ask ; . . . and/or the 
 life which you have lost, which you had in vanity and 
 evil, you shall find a life a hundredfold exceedittg in 
 peace and inward joy. Oh ! faithful soldiers ! come on. 
 . . . The effect of the grace and coming of Jesus is 
 indeed to save people from their sins, and to them that 
 will be His and believe that He has all power committed 
 to Him in heaven and earth, — He can and doth give 
 power. More powerful is jfesus to save than, the devil 
 to compel men to sin. . . . Oh ! happy souls, that can 
 thus believe on His narne ; these shall be baptised with 
 Christ's own baptism." 
 
 About a month after this visit of Richard Claridge 
 to Watford, he again went there to attend the funeral 
 of a relative of Alice Hayes, whose friendship he 
 much valued. The following extract is from one of 
 his letters to her : — 
 
 • '' Esteemed Friend, Alice Hayes, — Yesterday my heart 
 was broken and melted before the Lord, both in silent 
 waiting and testimony, at a little meeting in Barking; 
 . . . panting and thirsting after Him, He was pleased to 
 appear in power and glory. When I felt myself to be 
 nothing without Him He filled my soul with treasure. 
 . . . My soul dearly salutes thee, and cries to the God of 
 my life for thee, that as He hath enabled thee to bear a 
 noble testimony to His blessed truth byword, doing, and 
 suffering, so He would keep thee faithful unto death. . . . 
 Oh ! sweet and comfortable communion ! when distant 
 
RICHARD CLARIDGE AND HIS FRIENDS. 363 
 
 in person we are present in spirit. Life often flows and 
 circulates after a secret and invisible, yet sensible, sym- 
 pathizing manner. ... I desire I may neither run before 
 nor stay behind my Guide. My dear Friend travail with 
 me and for me. Blessed are they who live by faith." 
 
 In a long reply to two letters received from an 
 entire stranger, Richard Claridge writes : — 
 
 " Loving Friend, Huhg Kirk . . . Though thou art 
 unknown to me outwardly and by face, yet I have an in- 
 ward sensible perception of thee in the light and life of 
 Jesus. . . . These hungering and thirsting ones that 
 cannot be satisfied with anything short of God, and the 
 enjoyment of His living presence, shall, as they continue 
 so travailing, hungering, and thirsting, be satisfied ; for 
 the Lord never said to the seed of Jacob, ' Seek ye Me in 
 vain.' ... It is a matter of rejoicing to my soul that the 
 Lord hath been pleased to make my book, ' Mercy Cover- 
 ing the Judgment Seat,' helpful unto thee, as I hear He 
 hath also done to many more." 
 
 Richard Claridge had become an author whilst a 
 clergyman, and his pen had not been idle during his 
 sojourn amongst Baptists. The books he afterwards 
 wrote were chiefly in reference to the principles held 
 by Friends; his Lux Evangclica Attesta, like the 
 work Hugh Kirk mentioned, is said to have been 
 made a blessing to numerous readers. 
 
 In 1702, Richard Claridge went to the Yearly 
 Meeting at Colchester, in company with Samuel 
 Waldenfield and William Hornold. The home of 
 the latter was near Ratcliff Highway, but he spent 
 much time in diligent, itinerant, ministerial labours, 
 especially endeavouring to have meetings in places 
 where they had never or rarely been held. The 
 former was also a minister, residing in Middlesex ; 
 his unwearied zeal and powerful preaching in Great 
 
364 RICHARD CLARIDGE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Britain, Holland, and Germany, were greatly blessed. 
 Most exemplary in his daily life, ready to every good 
 work, courteous as well as charitable, he was be- 
 loved by rich and poor ; and many who had been 
 prejudiced against Friends viewed them in a very 
 different light after becoming acquainted with him. 
 *' What a brave thing it is," was his characteristic 
 remark on his death-bed, "for Friends to dwell in 
 unity ; here we can sit together as the children of 
 God, the church of the first-born, whose names are 
 written in heaven." 
 
 On their way the three ministers held a meeting at 
 the Spread Eagle, at Ingatestone ; and whilst at Col- 
 chester, in conjunction with another Friend, they had 
 meetings on two successive days, which were very 
 large and satisfactory : it was supposed that one o 
 them was attended by at least 1,500 persons. In the 
 autumn of 1703 Richard Claridge gave up his school, 
 and spent a good deal of time in preaching and 
 writing. When John Love, Jun., was at Barking he 
 held an evening meeting, and on the following day 
 preached in the streets and market-place, accom- 
 panied by Richard Claridge. On the morrow, Barking 
 .Three-Weeks' Meeting had an unwonted influx of 
 visitors, on whom John Love's striking ministry 
 appeared to make a deep impression. He was pro- 
 bably the son of the Friend who bore the same name, 
 and who died, or was put to death, in the Inquisition 
 in 1660. 
 
 Amongst other meetings at which Richard Claridge 
 was present were two held in the barn of a Friend 
 named Roger Palmer, who lived at Navestock, near 
 
RICHARD CLARIDGE AND HIS FRIENDS. 365 
 
 Harold's Wood, in Essex. As no meeting of this 
 kind had ever been held in the parish, he was anxious 
 to have an opportunity of bidding his neighbours to 
 one, and about one hundred and fifty of them re- 
 sponded to this invitation. They were very power- 
 fully addressed by Richard Claridge and Samuel 
 Waldenfield, both of whom also engaged in prayer. 
 At the eager solicitation of the people, a second 
 meeting was held, in which Richard Claridge spoke 
 at great length. "I entreated them," he writes, "to turn 
 theirmindsto Christ, the inward Teacher — the Teacher 
 sent of God to teach them the way of life and sal- 
 vation ; and then signified to them that our directing 
 them to turn their minds inwardly to Christ was not 
 to take them off from the Holy Scriptures, or faith 
 in Christ crucified as outwardly. Though we press 
 men to believe in the light and to walk in the lights 
 yet we do not declare that, as though they could do 
 it of their own will or power, but that they ought to 
 look to and wait upon Christ for ability so to do. . . . 
 God hath provided a means sufficient for the salvation 
 of men, and this means is Christ Jesus, the One Me- 
 diator between God and men, the great and alone L^ 
 Sacrifice of propitiation.'* 
 
 Early in 1707 Richard Claridge removed to Totten- 
 ham, where he opened a boarding and day school. 
 This proceeding gave great offence to the vicar of the 
 parish, his curate, and the master of the Free School, 
 and led them to appeal for aid to Lord Coleraine 
 and Hugh Smithson, Esq., justices of the peace, who 
 threatened him with persecution ; the only reason they 
 could allege for this menace being the evil that might 
 
366 RICHARD CLARIDGE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 ensue if he infused his pupils' minds with erroneous 
 views. When Richard Claridge was told of this, he 
 said that his purpose was to do good in the position 
 in which God's providence had placed him, and that 
 he could not abandon the performance of his duty. 
 The two clergymen next went from house to house 
 endeavouring to induce the parents of the children to 
 withdraw them from the teaching of one whom they 
 stigmatised as an apostate, an impostor, a heretic 
 and a Jesuit. The vicar even vilified him from his 
 pulpit, which shocked several members of his congre- 
 gation, who strongly expressed their disapproval of 
 such uncharitableness. Many of his hearers after- 
 wards went to the Friends' Meeting, and listened with 
 grave attention to Richard Claridge's ministry ; and 
 the next evening a large number of the inhabitants 
 of the town came to a meeting held at his house, at 
 which three or four other ministers of the Society 
 were also present. 
 
 A few weeks later, whilst sitting one day at dinner, 
 Richard Claridge was arrested with a writ of qui 
 tarn, &c. The officer who did so civilly handed him 
 the warrant, that he might obtain legal advice. His 
 adversaries having been foiled when proscuting him 
 in Doctors' Commons, now attacked him upon a 
 statute passed in the reign of James I. against Roman 
 Catholic recusants, the penalty being forty shillings 
 a-day for keeping school without a license. The 
 damages demanded of Richard Claridge were ;£*6oo ; 
 but his opponents were once more unable to carry 
 their point ; and the Lord Chief Justice, in summing 
 up the evidence to the jury, referred to the violent 
 
RICHARD CLARIDGE AND HIS FRIENDS. 367 
 
 manner in which the prosecution had been con- 
 ducted.* 
 
 In the summer of the following year, Richard 
 Claridge wrote a long letter to a gentleman who had 
 at one time been a Baptist minister, but who, like 
 himself, had adopted the views of Friends. In rela- 
 tion to his own experience, he alludes to the time 
 when, although believing the whole history of Christ, 
 he was still ignorant of Him as a personal Saviour. 
 **To remove this darkness," he writes, "there was 
 first light (not natural, but divine) ; and that showed 
 me my sin . . . and directed me to Christ, the alone 
 Saviour. . . . And as I was enabled by the grace of 
 God — for without that I could do nothing — to believe 
 in Christ and repent of my sin ... so I came, by 
 the powerful and effectual working of the same grace, 
 to pass through the ministration of condemnation 
 and to witness, gradually, the ministration of life 
 and peace. 'I say gradually, for so it was with me. 
 The work was not instantaneous, but by degrees ; 
 
 • The reasons assigned by a modern writer [Julia Wedgewood] for 
 the bitter opposition of the clergy of the eighteenth century to the 
 Methodists seem — in addition to more palpable causes — to apply also 
 to that encountered by the early Friends one hundred years before : 
 — ** The Articles which every clergyman had signed, the Liturgy 
 which he habitually read, had been emptied of meaning ; he declared 
 the Holy Ghost had called him to the office of a deacon, and he 
 meant only that he saw no reason why he should not enter on it ; he 
 prayed that he and his congregation might receive the inspiration of 
 God's Holy Spirit and He meant only that they might go to Heaven 
 when they died. He signed the Articles, which were drawn up to 
 secure the doctrine of justification by faith, and he meant only that 
 God would overlook the sins of those who acknowledged a certain 
 historical person to be His Son. Hence, when a set of men arose, 
 not only believing these doctrines with all their soul, but regarding 
 them as the medicine for a diseased world, the clergy started back 
 with horror." 
 
368 RICHARD CLARIDGE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 not but that the Almighty could have done it in a 
 moment. . . . And as this purging work went for- 
 ward, so I became in love with it, and earnestl}^ 
 cried unto the Lord that He would take away alJ 
 iniquity, and make me perfectly clean and fit for com- 
 munion with Himself. I am fully persuaded that 
 then the work of the Lord goes rightly on, when we 
 are in love with His righteous judgments." 
 
 In the latter part of 1713 Richard Claridge gave 
 up his school and removed to London, spending much 
 time in visiting the meetings in and around the city. 
 Three years afterwards a heavy trial befell him, in 
 the death of his daughter and only child. Amongst 
 his MS. there was found some serious counsel written 
 for her use. One sentence is as follows : " Walk in the 
 light of the Lamb continually ; so thou shalt be a 
 witness of His work, which is to take away the sin 
 of the world." About this time he wrote to a rela- 
 tive who had recently lost a son, whose conduct had 
 been marked by disobedience and dissipation. After 
 expressing sympathy, he says : — 
 
 '' I would not have thee sorrow as one without hope, 
 for the mercies of God are boundless and His judgments 
 -are unsearchable. It behoveth us to be still and to exer- 
 cise hope and charity : the mercy extended to the peni- 
 tent thief ought to caution us against judging of the 
 everlasting state of any, for who knows what faith and 
 repentance the Lord in His abundant compassion might 
 be pleased to give thy poor son before his exit out of the 
 body ! Comfort thyself, therefore, in the Lord alone, to 
 whom secret things belong, and whose mercy rejoiceth 
 against judgment." 
 
 When a cousin of Richard Claridge sent him a 
 
RICHARD CLARIDGE AND HIS FRIENDS. 369 
 
 genealogical table of their family, recently obtained 
 from the Heralds' Office, he copied a part of it, but, 
 when returning it with thanks, writes of " the Chris- 
 tian pedigree, which is noble indeed, and worthy of 
 our most diligent search." 
 
 A few weeks before his death, Richard Claridge 
 received a letter from the wife of an intimate friend, 
 who was in a state of deep despondency. Brief ex- 
 tracts from his long and kind reply must suffice : — 
 
 " Dearly beloved Friend, — . . . Oh, be not faithless; 
 but believe that Jesus Christ will, in His own appointed 
 time, deliver thee, as thou abidest in faith and patience, 
 bearing the indignation of the Lord because thou hast 
 sinned against Him. . . . The times and seasons of the 
 Lord's delivering of His people are in His own hands, 
 and when the set time is fully come He will appear, and 
 bring salvation with Him. Satan labours to possess 
 thee with fears, doubts, and questionings concerning the 
 loving-kindness of God to thy soul. But, my dear 
 Friend, I have waited on the Lord on thy behalf, and am 
 persuaded that this is one of Satan's wiles. ... I also 
 find an openness in my heart, not only to sympathise 
 with thee, but also to put up my fervent supplications to 
 the Lord for thee ; and I believe He will answer my 
 cries for the sake of His beloved Son Jesus Christ, in 
 whom alone is my trust. . . . The reason thou givest for 
 desiring a few lines from me, and not a personal visit, is 
 somewhat strange ; for thou sayest, * I do not desire to see 
 the face of any honest Friend ; ' and thy allegation for that 
 is still more strange — * I am an afflicted, disconsolate, 
 poor woman, not worthy that any honest Friend should 
 come under my roof.' For the greater thy affliction, the 
 more need, in my judgment, thou hast of an honest 
 Friend to visit, advise, and comfort thee. Heavenly 
 conversation is often blest to the disconsolate person, 
 and by being too much alone the recluse party often 
 becomes very dull, heavy, and melancholic, and lies open 
 
 2 B 
 
2,70 RICHARD CLARIDGE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 to various assaults and impressions of Satan. . . . Soli- 
 tude, in a proper time and season, is an excellent thing ; 
 but in a time of such deep exercises as thine are, it will 
 be convenient for thee to admit the conversation of some 
 friend or friends, who have passed through the fires and 
 the waters, and felt Satan's buffetings, and known the 
 Lord's preservations. It is a Christian duty to entertain 
 very low and humble thoughts of thyself; but I tenderly 
 caution thee, in the wisdom of God, to take heed of a 
 Satanical wile here, for Christ is an all-sufficient and 
 all-benevolent Saviour. 
 
 " Thy truly sympathising friend and brother, 
 
 " Richard Claridge." 
 
 The health of Richard Claridge had been declining 
 for some years. The last MS. which occupied him 
 was a memorial sketch of his venerated friend George 
 Whitehead, who had lately died, after spending be- 
 tween sixty and seventy years of his long life in the 
 service of his Lord. But, before he could complete 
 this, he had to lay down the pen, of which he had 
 long made such a conscientious use. After a few 
 days of increased illness, during w^hich he spoke to 
 those who visited him of the peace which was his 
 happy portion, he expired in the early part of 1723, 
 in the seventy-fourth year of his age. 
 
 His loss was a great one — to the Church, where it 
 had been his wont to urge all to single-hearted holi- 
 ness ; to the friends to whom his sweetness endeared 
 him, whilst adding a charm to his conversation ; to 
 the poor, who would miss his visits no less than his 
 open-handed charity : and to his own household, on 
 whose behalf his fervent prayers had often ascended 
 to heaven, and to whom he had been a standing wit- 
 ness of the blessed result of a life lived " by the faith 
 
RICHARD CLARIDGE AND HIS FRIENDS. 37I 
 
 of the Son of God." For he had not only applied to 
 Christ for healing, but had also placed himself pas- 
 sively in His hands, to effect the restoration in His 
 own way and time ; and had found — as Richard 
 Baxter writes — that " He is not such a physician as 
 to perform but a supposed or reputative cure. He 
 came not to persuade His Father to judge us to be 
 well because He Himself is well, or to leave us un- 
 cured. . . . This is the work of our blessed Redeemer 
 — to make man fit for God's approbation and delight. 
 He regenerateth us, that He may sanctify us and 
 make us fit for our Master's use." 
 
372 
 
 THOMAS STORY. 
 
 " God called for my life, and I offered it at His footstool; but He 
 gave it me, as a prey, with unspeakable addition. He called for my 
 will, and I resigned it at His call ; but He returned me His own in 
 token of His love. ... I begged Himself and He gave me all." — 
 T. Story. 
 
 The life of this remarkable man seems to be well 
 worthy the attention of those — especially — who are 
 members of that religious body, which he did not join 
 until (after carefully studying the doctrines of many 
 other sects) he had become fully convinced that the 
 principles held by Friends are in accordance with 
 those laid down in the New Testament. For about 
 half a century he preached the Gospel, his field of 
 labour including the British Isles, the Netherlands, 
 the United States of America, and the West Indies. 
 Very skilful in religious argument, which he con- 
 ducted in a truly Christian spirit — he was courteously 
 and attentively heard by archbishops, dukes, earls, and 
 countesses. During a residence of fourteen years in 
 America he was the coadjutor of William Penn in 
 the arrangement of the affairs of Pennsylvania ; and 
 in addition to being one of the Governor's Council, 
 he filled the offices of Keeper of the Great Seal, 
 Master of the Rolls, &c., and was also appointed 
 Recorder for Philadelphia; the mayorality of this 
 city was offered him in 1706, but he did not accept it. 
 
THOMAS STORY. 373 
 
 Thomas Story was born about 1663, and was 
 brought up as a member of the Church of England. 
 Having chosen the law as his profession, he practised 
 it in Carlisle, and afterwards in London. From a very 
 early age his heart was inclined to serious thought- 
 fulness, and when alone he often read the Bible, which 
 even then he loved above all other books. As soon as 
 he began to adopt some of the rude habits and words 
 of the schoolboys with whom he associated, he says 
 that he felt something within him suddenly surprising 
 him with a sense of sin, and thereby powerfully in- 
 fluencing his conduct. As he grew older the neces- 
 sity of the great work of regeneration strongly im- 
 pressed his heart ; and, conscious of the uncertainty 
 of life, he felt that " a secret stain rested upon the 
 world and all its glory." 
 
 When he was about five and twenty, he was one 
 day riding to a country church when his horse fell 
 and broke its neck, whilst he was himself quite un- 
 injured. Standing by the side of the prostrate 
 animal he could but feel in how great peril his 
 own life had been, and his heart was sorely troubled 
 with the remembrance that, ** Except a man be born 
 again he cannot see the kingdom of God." *' He re- 
 marks that 
 
 ** by the grace of God he had been enabled in measure to 
 shun all words and acts which he felt to be evil." " And 
 yet," he writes, " I did not know the Divine grace in its 
 own nature, as it is in Christ ; nor as a word of faith, 
 sanctification, justification, consolation, and redemption. 
 But my mind being truly earnest with God, thirsting 
 unto death for the knowledge of the way of life, He was 
 pleased to hear the voice of my necessity ; for I wanted 
 
374 THOMAS STORY. 
 
 present salvation, and the Lord knew my case could not 
 admit of further delay. And therefore being moved by 
 His own free mercy and goodness — even in the same 
 love in which He sent His Son, the Beloved, into the 
 world to seek and to save the lost — on the first day of 
 the second month, in the evening, in the year 1689, being 
 alone in my chamber, the Lord brake in upon me un- 
 expectedly ; quick as lightning from the heavens, and as 
 a righteous, all-powerful, all-knowing, sin-condemning, 
 judge, before whom my soul, as in the deepest agony, 
 trembled, was confounded and amazed, and filled with 
 such awful dread as no words can declare . . . But in 
 the midst of this a voice was formed and uttered in me : 
 — ' Thy will, O God ! be done ; if this be Thy act alone, 
 and not my own, / yield my soul to Thee.' From the 
 conceiving of these words from the Word of life, I 
 quickly found relief There was all-healing virtue in 
 them, and the effect so swift and powerful that, even in a 
 moment, all my fears vanished as if they had never been; 
 and my mind became calm, still, and simple as a little 
 child. The day of the Lord dawned, and the Sun of 
 Righteousness arose in me with Divine healing and re- 
 storing virtue in His countenance, and He became the 
 centre of my mind. ... I had a taste and view of the 
 agony of the Son of God, and of His death upon the cross, 
 when the weight of the sins of all human kind were upon 
 Him. Now all my past sins were pardoned and done 
 away, and my carnal reasonings and conceivings about 
 the knowledge of God and the mysteries of religion 
 were over. ... I now found the true Sabbath, a holy, 
 heavenly, divine, and free rest, and most sweet repose." 
 
 Refresliing sleep, to which he had long been a 
 stranger, followed this marvellous visitation, and the 
 next day he felt as free from care as a little child. As 
 evening again returned, he says that his " whole 
 nature and being were filled with the Divine pre- 
 sence in a manner he had never known before." He 
 beautifully and forcibly compares his assurance of 
 
THOMAS STORY. 375 
 
 the reality of this experience, to the certainty felt by 
 man — without any train of reasoning — of the fact 
 that he beholds the sun, although that glorious orb 
 ■can only be seen through the medium of his own light. 
 In God's own presence Thomas Story learnt that He 
 is love, and that perfect love casts out fear; no 
 marvel that he should add, *'I was filled with perfect 
 -consolation." Henceforth he hungered only for the 
 bread of life, with which his Lord did not fail to 
 supply him, whilst gradually leading him onwards 
 in the path of the just, where the snares of the enemy, 
 revealing to him his own weakness, taught him also 
 the exceeding greatness of God's power. 
 
 Although he spoke to no one of what was passing 
 within his soul, his friends must have seen that some 
 ^reat change had occurred : his sword and other 
 ornamental articles of attire were laid aside, his in- 
 struments oi music burnt, and he felt it right to dis- 
 continue his attendance at church, with a belief that 
 one day it would be his duty to oppose the world 
 with regard to matters of religion. Meanwhile Christ 
 was his teacher, and " mysteries," it has been said, 
 " are revealed to the meek." ** As the nature and 
 virtue," he writes, ** of the Divine essential Truth 
 increased in my mind, it wrought in me daily a 
 .greater conformity to its own power ; reducing my 
 mind to a solid quietude and silence as a state most 
 fit for attending to the speech of the Divine word ; 
 being daily fed with the fruit of the tree of life I de- 
 sired no other knowledge." 
 
 While thus withdrawn for a while from outward 
 religious fellowship, his heart was filled with love 
 
^7^ THOMAS STORY. 
 
 and compassion to all his fellow-creatures, whether 
 -** Protestants, Romans, Jews, Turks, or Heathens." 
 His desire was to worship God in spirit and in truths 
 but he did not know that any others held views on 
 this subject similar to those which Christ had taught 
 him. One day, as he was finishing a long poem in 
 blank verse to " To the Saints inZion,"the Quakers,, 
 to his surprise, were suddenly brought to his mind,, 
 in such a manner as to awaken a strong desire to 
 know what their principles were. 
 
 Early in the summer of i6gi, having some business, 
 in the west of Cumberland, he lodged at an inn which 
 was kept by a Friend, with whom he had some 
 religious conversation ; also accompanying him on 
 the following day to the Friends' meeting at Brough- 
 ton. This good man had, no doubt, become much 
 interested in his young companion, and as they jour- 
 neyed together was inclined to give him further 
 details of the views held by the sect of which he was. 
 a member ; but he no longer found an eager listener, 
 for Thomas Story says that his mind was composed, 
 and its attention directed towards God, who knew 
 that he " wanted only to see the truth and not be 
 deceived." So they rode together for some miles in 
 perfect silence, in which Thomas Story enjoyed a 
 blessed consciousness of the presence of God. In 
 this state of mind he took his seat in the meeting, 
 giving no great heed to the words of a minister who 
 was contrasting some of the views of Friends with 
 those of the Presbyterians, &c. ; for he did not doubt 
 that in common with other denominations they could 
 speak in favour of their own principles, *' and my 
 
THOMAS STORY. 37/ 
 
 concern," he writes, "was much rather to know 
 whether they were a people gathered under a sense 
 of the enjoyment of the presence of God in their 
 meetings ; or, in other words, whether they wor- 
 shipped the true and living God in the life and nature 
 of Christ, the Son of God, the true and only Saviour: 
 and the Lord answered my desire according to the 
 integrity of my heart. For not long after I had sat 
 down among them, that heavenly and watery cloud 
 overshadowing my mind, brake into a sweet abound- 
 ing shower of celestial rain, and the greatest part of 
 the meeting was broken together, and comforted in 
 the same Divine presence and influence of the holy 
 and heavenly Lord, which was divers times repeated 
 before the meeting was ended." 
 
 He had been no stranger to similar feelings when 
 alone with God, but now he learnt that *' as many 
 small streams by forming a river become more deep 
 and weighty," even so in a company that with one 
 accord draw nigh to God, through Jesus Christ, there 
 may be a stronger realisation of the fulness of joy to 
 be found in His presence. And in this solemn hour 
 he learnt also that, like the prophet of old, he had 
 been wrong in supposing that there was '* scarce any 
 true and living faith in the world." 
 
 Greatly did the Friends who formed Broughton 
 Meeting rejoice in spirit over the young stranger in 
 their midst, who they imagined had now for the first 
 time been brought to the true knowledge of God. He 
 accepted an invitation to the house of an aged widow; 
 the peace of God, '* inexpressible by any language but 
 itself alone, remaining as a canopy " over his mind. 
 
37^ THOMAS STORY. 
 
 No marvel that on such a day as this he should resolve 
 henceforth, at any cost, to count all things but loss for 
 the excellency of the knowledge of Christ; to abandon 
 whatever would hinder his communion with his Lord, 
 or mar any service for Him, to which he might be 
 called. 
 
 Soon his sincerity was severely tested. An ac- 
 quaintance came to him one evening, to ask him to 
 appear, the next day, as a witness in his favour, at a 
 trial concerning some houses which formed the greater 
 part of his property. As Thomas Story had made the 
 deeds of conveyance, the young man thought that his 
 evidence would prove the justness of his claim. Whilst 
 his friend was talking to him, Thomas Story felt that 
 he must now either take up the cross of Christ, or 
 forsake Him for ever. His Saviour did not desert 
 him in this time of need ; he said : " I am concerned 
 it should fall out so ; I will appear if it please God, 
 and testify what I know in the matter, and do what 
 I can for you that way, but I cannot swear.'* 
 Passionately, and with an oath, his astonished friend 
 made reply : " What, you are not a Quaker, sure ! " 
 For a few moments Thomas Story scarcely knew 
 what would be a true answer to this question, but as 
 " the power of that life of Him who forbiddeth all 
 oaths and swearing arose," as he says, yet clearer 
 and fuller in him, he replied : " I must confess the 
 truth, I am a Quaker." His angry acquaintance, 
 heaping him with reproaches, threatened to have 
 him fined by the Court, and dealt with according to 
 the utmost rigour of the law. No sooner had he left 
 the house than Thomas Story withdrew to his own 
 
THOMAS STORY. 379 
 
 room, for in this hour of sore temptation and trial he 
 felt that he must be alone with God. A gentleman 
 by birth, education, and association — life with fair 
 prospects opening before him — his young spirit was, 
 he felt, in danger of quailing before Satan's sugges- 
 tions of what might be the consequences of the 
 course he had taken ; fines, imprisonment, the 
 displeasure of his father, loss of friends, scoffing 
 and scorn. 
 
 His account of the victory won by faith is too 
 remarkable to be given in any words but his own: — 
 
 " From about eight in the evening till midnight the 
 eye of my mind was fixed on the love of God, which still 
 remained sensible in me, my soul cleaving thereto in 
 great simplicity, humihty, and trust therein, without any 
 yielding to Satan and his reasonings on those subjects 
 where flesh and blood, in its own strength, is easily over- 
 come. But about twelve at night the Lord put him to 
 utter silence with all his temptations for that season, and 
 the life of the Son of God alone remained in my soul. 
 And then, from a sense of his wonderful work and 
 redeeming arm, this saying of the Apostle arose in me 
 with power. 'The law of the spirit of life in Christ 
 Jesus hath made me free from the law of sin and death.' " 
 
 Perfect love had cast out fear, and calmly, and with 
 undaunted confidence, he committed his cause to his 
 Saviour's keeping. The following morning, whilst on 
 his way to the Hall where the judges sat, his ac- 
 quaintance met him with the information that the 
 opponent had yielded the cause, and that the case 
 was now satisfactorily settled. On hearing this, 
 Thomas Story "stood still in the street," for he knew 
 that it was the Lord's doing. 
 
380 THOMAS STORY.' 
 
 This circumstance made him the common topic of 
 conversation : a few looked sorrowful and wept, whilst 
 others scoffed and sneered. But none of these things 
 moved him, for the love of God was to his soul as "a 
 rampart of invincible patience." Some gentlemen 
 whom he knew, wishing to reclaim him from what 
 they hoped was but a temporary fit of fanaticism, 
 asked him to meet them at a tavern. This invitation 
 he thought it right to accept, and the secret presence 
 of his Saviour accompanying him, affected them in a 
 way they had little looked for. A health to King 
 William was being drunk, but when the glass was 
 handed to Thomas Story, he told his companions 
 that, whilst wishing well to both the king and them- 
 selves, he must refuse it, having given up the habit of 
 health-drinking. The glass did not go round ; a 
 solemnity pervaded the assembly, causing silence and 
 weeping ; then some of Thomas Story's friends spoke 
 of their conviction that every man should be allowed 
 to do what he thinks right in the sight of God, and 
 they parted, we read, " in solid friendship." 
 
 Although at this time Thomas Story had but little 
 intercourse with Friends, he constantly attended 
 their meetings, where, he says, in a state of silence 
 his heart was frequently broken and tendered by the 
 Divine influence of the powerful truth ; a holy plea- 
 sure which the world could never afford. 
 
 He now became convinced that, in his case, the 
 practice of the law would be a hindrance to his growth 
 in grace, and to his fulfilment of the ministry for 
 which he felt that God was preparing him. The 
 abandonment of all hope of worldly preferment was 
 
THOMAS STORY. 381 
 
 probably a far lighter trial than the displeasure which 
 his father manifested, when he became aware of this 
 resolution. About this time, whilst attending a meet- 
 ing at Sunderland, Thomas Story's heart was much 
 affected — as was often the case — by a powerful sense 
 of the presence and love of his Saviour ; he noticed 
 that at the same time many others shared in his 
 blessedness, and this, he remarks, made it clear to 
 him that " there is a communication of Divine love 
 through the one Spirit, and that unspeakable, among 
 the sanctified in Christ, at this day as well as in ,/ 
 time past ; and that in a state of holy silence." 
 
 When travelling in Scotland, as companion to a 
 minister named John Bowstead, Thomas Story for 
 the first time spoke a few words in public in a street 
 at Couper, after which the people in a very loving 
 manner directed them on their way. He was then 
 about thirty years of age. Not long afterwards he 
 attended the London Yearly Meeting, in company 
 with John Banks, whom he describes as *' that good, 
 old valiant warrior for Truth on earth." At Edmon- 
 ton he first met with William Penn, and their hearts 
 were closely drawn together by those holy ties which 
 can never be broken. He also formed a similar 
 friendship with Thomas Wilson, who seemed to him 
 to be the most able and powerful minister of the 
 age. 
 
 Whilst accompanying this Friend on a religious 
 visit to the west of England, Thomas Story, as he 
 sat by his side in meetings often enjoyed unspeakable 
 blessedness and satisfaction. But before his return 
 to his father's house, his state of mind was a very 
 
382 THOMAS STORY. 
 
 different one, for he felt that he had done wrong in 
 not giving expression to a few words which had been 
 powerfully impressed on his mind in several meetings. 
 Deep as was his distress it was not of long duration ; 
 the presence of the Lord had become his " all, and" 
 too dear to part with," and when in a meeting at Kirk- 
 lington his Saviour once more comforted his sorely 
 stricken heart, he resolved to give good heed to the 
 next intimation to duty. Having done this by utter- 
 ing the words, " It is a good day to all those who 
 obey the voice of the Lord," his soul was filled with 
 joy which found vent in tears. At the same time 
 most of the assembled company were affected in a 
 like manner, and for a while all were silent under 
 the canopy of the most High. Afterwards John 
 Bowstead, who had that day felt particularly attrac- 
 ted to Kirklington Meeting, spoke at some length on 
 the subject which his young friend had introduced. 
 
 In 1695 Thomas Story removed to London, where^ 
 through the influence of William Penn and others, 
 he obtained employment in conveyancing, &c. In 
 the following year he paid a general visit to the 
 meetings in the north of England and Scotland. 
 Whilst at West Allandale, amongst others who had 
 come to see him was Cuthbert Featherstone, *' an 
 ancient and honourable friend." Whilst they com- 
 muned together, they so realised the loving presence 
 of their Lord, that the tears flowed down the old man's 
 face to his long white beard, and Thomas Story's 
 heart was deeply moved with love towards him, and 
 with the conviction that if he also faithfully followed 
 his Saviour, God would be as near him in his old age 
 
THOMAS STORY. 383 
 
 as when He first revealed Himself in his soul. The 
 encouragement thus graciously granted him at an 
 early stage of his journey should, he thought, be 
 kept in lasting remembrance to the praise of the 
 Lord. 
 
 In 1697 we find Thomas Story and Gilbert Mollison 
 calling at the residence of Peter the Great, who was 
 in London incognito^ where they wished to leave the 
 Latin edition of " Barclay's Apology," hoping that 
 it might fall under the notice of the Czar. They had 
 an opportunity of conversing with him on some of 
 the views held by Friends. The following Sabbath 
 morning as Thomas Story was sitting in Gracechurch 
 Street Meeting he saw two gentlemen enter ; they 
 were dressed in the usual costume of Englishmen of 
 that period, but this did not prevent him from recog- 
 nising the Emperor and his interpreter. A minister 
 named Robert Haydock was preaching about the cure 
 of Naaman^ and — entirely unaware of the high rank 
 of one of his hearers — he said, " Now if thou wert 
 the greatest king, emperor, or potentate upon earth, 
 thou art not too great to make use of the means 
 offered by the Almighty for thy healing and restora- 
 tion, if ever thou expect to enter His kingdom, into 
 which no unclean thing can come." 
 
 Fifteen years later, when Peter the Great's troops 
 had taken possession of the Friends' Meeting-house 
 at Frederickstadt, he not only ordered them out of 
 it, but gave notice that he would attend a meeting in / 
 it, if the few Friends residing there were inclined / 
 to hold one. As his Generals did not understand 
 German, the Emperor, with much seriousness, acted 
 
384 THOMAS STORY. 
 
 as interpreter in this meeting, remarking that who- 
 ever would live in accordance with such doctrine 
 would be happy. 
 
 In 1698 Thomas Story accompanied WilHam 
 Penn to Ireland, where, in the intervals of meet- 
 ings, the latter accomplished much good by inter- 
 views with the Lord Justices of Ireland, and the 
 chief members of the Government of that country ; 
 directing their attention to subjects connected with 
 the spread of religion, and the welfare of the Society 
 ■of Friends. At Clonmel Thomas Story met with his 
 brother, the Dean of Limerick, who was the author 
 of a history of the late war, during which he had 
 filled the post of chaplain to a regiment commanded 
 by his relative. Sir Thomas Gower. On returning 
 to London, Thomas Story found his friend, Roger 
 Gill, waiting at his lodgings, to converse with him on 
 the subject of a religious visit to America. 
 
 About five years before this time, as Thomas 
 Story was riding alone one autumn evening, his 
 heart was exceedingly moved by the power of the 
 Lord, and greatly comforted by the conviction given 
 him that a visitation of God was "coming over the 
 western parts of the world, towards the sunsetting." 
 From this memorable hour, his soul was often deeply 
 stirred by a sense of God's love and compassion to a 
 people whom he had never seen. And two years 
 later, when at the house of John Whiting in Somer- 
 set, as he was one day looking at a map of the 
 world, " the power of the Lord," he writes, " sud- 
 denly seized my soul, and His love melted me into a 
 -flood of tender tears ; but hitherto I knew not the 
 
THOMAS STORY. 385 
 
 call of the Lord was to me to visit those parts, though 
 from henceforth I began to be afraid of it." 
 
 The belief that his gracious Master had work for 
 him to do in America became still stronger when, 
 during the Yearly Meeting, a Friend was led to pray 
 that God would send forth His ministers to "the 
 western countries and places beyond the seas." 
 Before going to Ireland, Thomas Story had, on a 
 winter day, attended a meeting held at the Park 
 Meeting-house, at Southwark, where Roger Gill had 
 also been engaged in the ministry. As they returned 
 together to the City, Thomas Story, finding his mind 
 very open towards his companion, told him of his 
 feelings with regard to America, and asked him if he 
 knew of any Friend who felt constrained to visit that 
 land. Roger Gill's reply was : " It is now long since 
 I was concerned that way, and the last night in my 
 sleep was as i/ making all things ready for my voyage." 
 " Is it no more than a dream yet ? " said Thomas 
 Story. Before the latter left for Ireland, however, 
 Roger Gill told him that he would accompany him 
 to America, although he should not be ready for some 
 time, as he had to make arrangements for " his wife 
 and children, not knowing whether ever he might 
 see them any more." It is no wonder that after- 
 events should cause these words of his friend to 
 vividly return to Thomas Story's memory. When 
 they visited the vessel in which they thought of taking 
 their passage, Thomas Story says that his heart was 
 *' sweetly comforted by the Divine love and life of the 
 Lord Jesus in the centre of his soul, so that for that 
 time all loads and weights were removed." 
 
 2 c 
 
386 THOMAS STORY. 
 
 On the day of their departure many of their friends 
 accompanied them on board the ship. Thomas Story 
 thus describes this parting hour: '* Being together in 
 the great cabin, the good presence of the Lord com- 
 manded deep and inward silence before Him, and the 
 Comforter of the just broke in upon us by His irre- 
 sistible power, and greatly tendered us together in 
 His heavenly love, whereby we were melted into 
 many tears. Glorious was this appearance, to the 
 humbling of us all and admiration of some there, who 
 did not understand it. Then William Penn was con- 
 cerned in prayer. . . . And when he had finished, 
 the Lord repeated His own embraces of Divine soul- 
 melting love upon the silent weeping assembly; to the 
 full confirmation of us more immediately concerned, 
 and further evidence to the truth of our calling." 
 When the time for separation had arrived, the voy- 
 agers looked after their friends as long as they re- 
 mained in sight, but with no yearnings to turn back 
 with them, for they were comforted, Thomas Story 
 says, with " that Divine love, which neither place nor 
 number of years shall ever be able to obstruct or de- 
 face, as we keep true to the Lord in ourselves." 
 
 The passage was an exceedingly stormy one, the 
 first tempest they encountered being the most violent. 
 Thomas Story was enabled to wrestle in an agony of 
 prayer for their deliverance, at which, as he remarks, 
 some stout hearts were broken, and the Lord's power 
 was glorified; afterwards he told his companions " in 
 full assurance," that the storm was over — and so it 
 proved to be. When in the midst of the succeeding 
 tempests he was at one time tempted to think that 
 
THOMAS STORY. 387 
 
 God was dealing hardly, he was comforted by a clear 
 conviction of His holy presence, giving strength in 
 proportion to the need, and manifesting His power 
 most fully in the hour of greatest extremity. 
 
 Cold as was the New World's winter welcome, the 
 strangers had a very hospitable reception at the 
 house of a Friend, at Queen's Creek, who had of late 
 apprehended that such visitors from England would 
 arrive, although he did not know who they might be. 
 One meeting, held about this time, seems to have 
 been especially satisfactory to Thomas Story ; many 
 hearts being moved whilst the ministers spoke of 
 *^ the free and universal grace of God, through Christ, 
 for life and salvation — endeavouring to turn them 
 thereunto ; that through faith therein they might 
 come to know the full end of the sacrifice of the 
 blood of Christ shed at Jerusalem of old." 
 
 Soon we find the travellers on their way to North 
 Carolina, passing through a wilderness, in the midst 
 of which they kindle a fire, and rest whilst eating 
 their bread and cheese and drinking water from a 
 brook, and are " well refreshed and content." On 
 another occasion, after describing the circumstances 
 of exceeding discomfort amidst which he had passed 
 a night, Thomas Story adds that he *' slept very well, 
 for where the Lord subjects the mind and makes it 
 content, all things are easy." His American travels 
 afforded him ample opportunity for verifying this 
 statement. 
 
 Some negroes attended the meetings held in Caro- 
 lina, and Thomas Story's heart was cheered at 
 finding ** the poor blacks so near the truth and 
 
388 THOMAS STORY. 
 
 reachable." One of them told him that a Friend 
 who had previously visited that part had assured 
 them — although they had been taught the contrary — 
 that the grace of God, through Christ w^as as free to 
 them as to the white people. A satisfactory inter- 
 view was also had with the Chickahomine Indians, 
 and before attending the Yearly Meeting for the 
 western shore, visits were paid to the families of 
 Friends. About this time tidings reached Thomas 
 Story and his companion of the terrible yellow fever 
 which was raging in Philadelphia, and Roger Gill 
 felt that he must immediately go to the distressed 
 Friends there, saying that if he had wings he would 
 fly to their aid. Soon Thomas Story joined him, 
 and was made deeply sensible, as he visited the sick 
 and dying, of the Lord's presence with His people 
 in this day of sore affliction. 
 
 The time for the Yearly Meeting in this city was 
 now at hand, and the Ministers and Elders were not 
 sure whether it would be best to suspend it, or to 
 hold it as usual. As they waited on the Lord for 
 counsel they felt that it would not be desirable to 
 give up holding the meetings, which were remark- 
 ■ably blessed; those held on the first, second, and 
 third days being for worship, and that on the fourth 
 for business. Violent as the pestilence had been 
 during during the preceding week, it was believed 
 that no fresh case occurred during these four days ; 
 and soon afterwards the plague was stayed. The 
 two English Friends continued their visits to the 
 sufferers, and Thomas Story writes : '' O the im- 
 mortal sweetness I enjoyed with several as they lay 
 
THOMAS STORY. 389 
 
 under the exercise of the devouring evil (though un- 
 speakably comforted in the Lord). Let my soul 
 remember it, and wait low before the Lord to the end 
 of my days ! Great was the majesty and hand of the 
 Lord! Great was the fear that fell upon all flesh. 
 , . . But the just appeared with open face, and 
 walked upright in the streets, and rejoiced in secret in 
 that perfect love that casteth out all fear. ... Nor love 
 of the world, nor fear of death could hinder their 
 resignation, abridge their confidence, or cloud their 
 enjoyments in the Lord." 
 
 Soon Roger Gill showed symptoms of illness, and, 
 when his companion talked to him of their plans for 
 the future, only answered that he did not see his way 
 any further. As some meetings had already been ap- 
 pointed Thomas Story could not stay with him ; but, 
 although he said that he was "pretty easy and not 
 very ill," his friend took leave of him with a heavily 
 burdened spirit, remembering how fervently he had 
 prayed during the Yearly Meeting — " That the Lord 
 would be pleased to accept of his life as a sacrifice 
 for his people, that a stop might be put to the 
 contagion." " I had thought," adds Thomas Story, 
 ** he would be taken at his word, though no such 
 sacrifices are required ; only therein appeared his 
 great love and concern for Friends whom he had 
 come so far to see." Therefore, although he knew 
 that the sufferer was well taken care of, and that 
 he could be of little use to him, Thomas Story 
 most keenly felt the parting, weeping so exceed- 
 ingly that his tears ran down to the floor, and 
 Roger Gill, desiring that the Lord might be with 
 
390 THOMAS STORY. 
 
 him, said, " Thou breaks my heart, I cannot bear it 
 any longer." 
 
 Deep was Thomas Story's mourning when the- 
 tidings of his friend's death (at the age of thirty-four) 
 followed him, though he was convinced that he had 
 not only obtained a crown of everlasting peace, but 
 also that *'his living testimony should not fall in those- 
 American parts." Many long years have passed 
 away since the loving heart of this faithful follower 
 of his Lord ceased to beat, when the wide waters of 
 the Atlantic lay betweeen it and all that it held most 
 dear on earth, yet surely Roger Gill's memory is 
 blessed still. It is probable that whilst at Phila- 
 delphia Thomas Story met for the first time with the 
 daughter of Edward Shippen,* who seven years 
 later, in 1706, became his wife; this happy union was 
 a short one, being terminated by the death of Anne 
 Story in 1711-12. 
 
 Thomas Story thus describes the conclusion of a. 
 Yearly Meeting at Choptank, which he attended, not 
 long after the death of Roger Gill : — ^' Our meeting^ 
 ended in the pure holy love of our Lord Jesus Christ, 
 our holy Head, Life, and Comforter; who is ever 
 -near to the end of the world, to strengthen and support 
 His own in the needful season, and to bind up His 
 holy body, the Church, with the joints and sinews of 
 
 * Edward Shippen left England for Boston in 1675, and in that 
 city received a public whipping for his religion as a Friend. Re- 
 moving to Philadelphia, he had great success as a merchant, and 
 was a Speaker in the House of Assembly in 1695. He sent valuable 
 aid to the poor amongst his fellow-professors in England, by the gift 
 of i2f ounces of gold, which he believed would sell in London for 
 about ;£"50 sterling. 
 
THOMAS STORY. 39 1 
 
 Divine love that cannot be broken ; against which the 
 gates of hell can never prevail." 
 
 Soon Thomas Story had the great pleasure of 
 meeting with William Penn in his own province, 
 from which he had been absent many years. Finding 
 affairs in a very unsettled state, the Governor was 
 exceedingly desirous that Thomas Story (who was 
 now nearly ready to return to England), should settle 
 for some years in Pennsylvania, to aid him in framing 
 regulations for the new city of Philadelphia, as well 
 as in other responsible and difficult duties. To this 
 proposal Thomas Story acceded, and subsequently 
 filled many important posts in Philadelphia, whilst 
 not confining himself so closely as to prevent visits 
 to various meetings. In 1704 he undertook a religious 
 journey to New England ; at Bristol on the Main the 
 meeting was held in the prison, where two young 
 men were confined in consequence of their refusal to 
 bear arms ; having encouraged them to be faithful, 
 Thomas Story went to the residence of the judge 
 of the Court, Colonel Byfield, in order to intercede 
 for them. The reception he at first met with was a 
 very rough one ; and even after the judge had become 
 calmer he remarked that he "thought it might be 
 well if Friends were all settled in a place by them- 
 selves, where they could not be troublesome to others ^ 
 by their contradictious ways!" Thomas Story an- 
 swered : " If you should send us out of all countries 
 where we reside, into one by ourselves, that would 
 not ease you, for more would spring up unavoidably 
 in our places ; for what would the world do if it should 
 lose its salt and leaven?" The Colonel seemed sur- \/ 
 
 Y 
 
392 THOMAS STORY. 
 
 prised at this reply, yet kindly shook hands with 
 Thomas Story before they parted. When at Boston 
 Thomas Story spoke and wrote to the Governor on 
 behalf of these young men, and they were set at 
 liberty under certain conditions. 
 
 Shortly afterwards he held meetings in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Salem, where great distress prevailed on 
 account of the hostilities of the Indians, who — in 
 revenge for the wrongs which they had too good 
 ground for saying they had received from the pro- 
 fessors of Christianity in New England — stealthily 
 and cruelly attacked the white people, without regard 
 to age or sex. Many houses in towns and in the 
 country were turned into garrisons ; but Thomas 
 Story, not thinking it right to avail himself of military 
 protection, went to the home of a Friend named 
 Henry Dow, within pistol-shot of a swamp and 
 thicket, and here he rested " with consolation." 
 
 Dangerous as was the situation of this defenceless 
 dwelling, its young mistress had been kept from fear 
 by God, in whom she put her trust until, yielding to 
 the entreaties of her mother, the family removed to 
 the neighbourhood of a garrison. Here Henry Dow's 
 wife was constantly distressed by terror of the Indians, 
 and her poor mother, venturing to go in the early 
 morning to fetch a few things from the house, was 
 murdered by some of the enemy who were in ambush. 
 The daughter, when these dreadful tidings reached 
 her, instead of going into the garrison, led her little 
 children to a thicket, and there her tormenting fears 
 were taken from her, and her stricken heart was 
 greatly comforted by the Lord whom she desired to 
 make her fortress. For as soon as the interment had 
 
THOMAS STORY. 393 
 
 taken place, Henry Dow and his family returned to 
 their home. 
 
 Whilst still in this dangerous district Thomas 
 Story was deeply perplexed with respect to the 
 appointment of meetings, from the fear that in 
 making such arrangements he might risk the lives 
 of others ; but these doubts all vanished as this 
 thought was presented to his mind : He that walketh 
 in darkness knoweth not whither he goeth, but to him 
 who walketh in light there is no occasion of stumbling. 
 
 When he visited the island of Nantucket he spent 
 a sleepless night, from the anxiety which he felt that 
 a Friends' meeting should be established there. He 
 thought it his duty to lay this matter before a family 
 of the name of Starbuck. *' I advised them," he 
 writes, " to wait sincerely upon the Lord in such 
 meetings, for they had no instrumental teachers, and 
 assured them that I had a firm confidence in the 
 Lord that 'He would visit them by His Holy Spirit 
 in them, in His own time — if they were faithful, held 
 on, and did not faint nor look back. Accordingly 
 they did meet, and the Lord did visit them, and 
 gathered many there unto Himself; and they became 
 a large and living meeting in Him, and several living 
 and able ministers were raised by the Lord in that 
 family, and of others : to the honour of his own arm, 
 who is worthy for ever ! " 
 
 In 1709 Thomas Story visited the Barbadoes, &c., 
 where for some years he had believed that there was 
 a work for him to do. On his homeward voyage the 
 vessel was captured by a French privateer, and taken 
 into Hispaniola. Those on board were deprived of 
 their goods, but were otherwise treated with kindness. 
 
394 THOMAS STORY. 
 
 After a while they obtained a passage to Guadaloupe, 
 and thence in a flag of truce to Antigua. On the first 
 of these voyages they were becalmed, and in that 
 tropical clime, the sufferings of Thomas Story, who- 
 was then violently ill, must have been extreme; 
 indeed it would be no easy task to form a clear 
 conception of them — lying, as he did, in an almost 
 unventilated hold, crowded with a repulsive and 
 blaspheming company, unable to quench his thirst 
 with a limited supply of stagnant water, and unpro- 
 vided with suitable food. Perhaps he fared better 
 when he exchanged these quarters for the deck, 
 though there unsheltered from rain, dew, and spray. 
 It would have been far too hard for all his own 
 strength, he says; but "through the grace of God I 
 *was fully resigned to His blessed will in death or 
 life; and in His blessed visitations my soul rejoiced 
 in remembrance of some of my nearest and dearest 
 friends." Five years later Thomas Story again went 
 to Barbadoes, and in the same year returned to his 
 native land. Whilst on his way to the north, to see 
 his aged father, who was now blind and ill, and 
 greatly longed for his son's companionship, he spent 
 a night at Burton; "where," he writes, "I had a 
 secret opened to me by my dear Saviour, which my 
 7" soul humbly desires of Him may be recorded in me 
 for evermore." 
 
 In 1715 Thomas Story visited Holland and Ger- 
 many, and, after returning from the Continent, 
 laboured in Ireland, and subsequently in Scotland. 
 Alluding to the large congregation at Aberdeen, he 
 writes: — " I had travelled far in the goodwill and 
 
THOMAS STORY. 395 
 
 love of God to see them : and a little after my coming 
 into the place, I was much broken in that love which 
 reaches over sea and land, and engages in the greatest 
 fatigues for the good of souls, for whom Christ died 
 through a never-fading love." He greatly enjoyed 
 his intercourse with Robert Barclay, which both 
 would have gladly prolonged, though their friendship 
 was of the kind which can well bear any strain of 
 separation, and Thomas Story characteristically re- 
 marks : — " We were made easier to part by the same 
 that first made us acquainted in the time of our 
 youth." 
 
 Four years later Thomas Story had several large 
 and satisfactory meetings at Bath ; one, especially, 
 he describes as a great and glorious meeting, crowned 
 with the presence of the King of Kings. Many of 
 the nobility were present, some of them standing 
 the whole time, though the meeting lasted for three 
 hours, Thomas Story speaking for about two hours 
 and a-half. Once, at Shrewsbury, on the last day of 
 a Yearly Meeting, which had been eagerly attended 
 by. people of all ranks, whilst Thomas Story was 
 speaking of the crucifixion of Christ, and of his 
 being wounded to the heart for the sins of men, he 
 was so completely overcome that he could not go on, 
 until, as he says, his ** spirit was a little unburdened 
 by an efflux of many tears, and the whole auditory 
 was bowed and generally broken ; and many con- 
 fessed the truth." Whilst spending some weeks at 
 Bristol, he became interested in the young people 
 belonging to that meeting, with whom he quaintly 
 says he used ** all decent plainness, but, as it was in 
 
/ 
 
 396 THOMAS STORY. 
 
 the love of truth, they received it in the same ground." 
 He greatly regretted the conduct of some ministers 
 there, who had " unwarrantably and falsely applied 
 to them all the judgments against old Israel in their 
 most degenerate state ; of whose sins these young 
 people and others, knowing themselves not to be 
 guilty, though perhaps in some things they want 
 amendment, are greatly offended and hurt." 
 
 In 1721 an Act of Parliament was passed for ac- 
 cepting the affirmation of Friends in its present form ; 
 the one which had been previously used was very 
 unsatisfactory, as it almost amounted to an oath. 
 Thomas Story had undergone confinement for a year 
 and a-half in the Fleet prison, in consequence of 
 declining to take it, in which suffering he says that 
 he had great peace and acceptance with the Lord. 
 On his release he shared largely in the efforts which 
 were made by Friends to obtain a new Act ; he had 
 interviews in reference to this subject with the Arch- 
 bishops of Canterbury and York, the Bishop of 
 Carlisle, the Duke of Somerset, and the Earls of 
 Sunderland and Carlisle. The Archbishop of York, 
 after a long conversation, expressed a wish to see 
 §ome of the writings of Friends, and at parting took 
 Thomas Story's hand in his own, and said : " I desire 
 your prayers for me, as I also pray for you ; we 
 ought all to pray one for another." 
 
 On one occasion, when at Lowther Hall on busi- 
 ness, a conversation which Thomas Story had with 
 Lord Lonsdale on religious topics, introduced by the 
 latter, was prolonged until i a.m. Thomas Story 
 told his courteous listener that, " We must love God, 
 
THOMAS vSTORY. 39/ 
 
 love His judgments and reproofs, which are all in 
 love, in order to the manifestation of Himself; " and 
 referring to his own experience, remarked : " Whilst I 
 was in an unconverted state I believed the being of 
 God and all His attributes ; but I did not actually 
 know God to be holy till he reproved unholiness in 
 me. . . . Nor had I known Him as a consuming 
 fire, unless by the refining operation of His Spirit 
 He had consumed my corruptions, or begun that 
 work ; or that He is love. Divine, unspeakable love^ 
 unless by His own power He had fitted me in some 
 measure to enjoy the influences of His grace in a 
 state of holiness ; in which He rules as a monarch 
 in the soul . . . which through grace I know in- 
 finitely transcends, even in this life, all that can be 
 named besides ! " 
 
 In 1730 we find Thomas Story pausing in his 
 travels and settling for nearly a year at Justicetown 
 (an estate near Carlisle, inherited from his father), 
 where he enjoyed spending a portion of his time in 
 planting and improving his land, and in intercourse 
 with his friends ; his great interest in a large nursery 
 ground of British and American forest trees being 
 increased from the fact that there was an inconvenient 
 lack of timber in that neighbourhood. During his 
 long residence in Philadelphia he had formed an 
 intimate friendship with James Logan (Penn's in- 
 valuable coadjutor), with whom he afterwards cor- 
 responded, manifesting an affectionate interest in his 
 children, although he did not know them personally. 
 In 1734 he writes, from London, to one of James 
 Logan's little girls, who was probably much gratified 
 
39^ THOMAS STORY. 
 
 at being addressed as : " Respected Friend, Sarah 
 Logan, junr." His object in writing is to thank her 
 for '' a very acceptable present of her early inge- 
 nuity," which had been " greatly admired as the 
 work of a person so young." From her answer we 
 learn that he had not only remembered to thank her 
 for what she styles " a small piece of my childish 
 performance," but also " to retaliate it to a great 
 excess with a valuable present." Reference is also 
 made to another gift of a knife, fork, and spoon, in a 
 shagreen case, which her kind friend had sent her 
 when her father was last in England. In his next 
 note Thomas Story expresses his hope " that heaven 
 may preserve her by the sweet Divine dew from 
 above, daily descending upon her tender heart." 
 
 Some portions of his letters to James Logan show 
 how deep were his researches in certain branches of 
 natural science, for his learning was extensive. 
 
 When he was attending the Quarterly Meeting at 
 York, in 1738, a person who was present took down 
 some of his sermons in shorthand. Thomas Story 
 was unaware of this at the time, but consented to 
 their publication, whilst remarking in his Journal, 
 *- No words can represent the Divine virtue, power, 
 and energy in which the doctrines of the truth are 
 delivered by those who are sent of God." 
 
 In one of these sermons he observes : " If we do 
 indeed believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, He recon- 
 cileth us unto God, reforms our nature, and destroys 
 the works of sin in us, according to the saying of 
 John the Baptist : ' Behold the Lamb of God, which 
 taketh away the sin of the world.' " Then, after 
 
THOMAS STORY. 399 
 
 quoting Mai. iii. i, 2, 3, and Matt. iii. 12, he con- 
 tinues : " Now these things were not predicted con- 
 cerning the outward coming of Christ in the flesh 
 only, but rather of His inward coming or revelation 
 in Spirit ; for where sin is, there is the defilement, 
 and where that is, there must the Refiner and 
 Purifier be. . . . And there never can be any true 
 reformation wrought in us until we come thus to 
 believe and receive the Son of God ; and by believing 
 and receiving Him we are, and shall be, redeemed 
 from all our sins, and the deadly effects of them in 
 our souls. . . . He will fill us with His Holy Spirit, 
 the new wine of His kingdom, which consists not of 
 meat and drink, but righteousness, Divine peace, and 
 joy unspeakable, in the Holy Ghost — an enjoyment, 
 even in this life, transcending all the imagination and 
 thought of man in his natural state." In another 
 sermon, after remarking that he was glad that there 
 had been so long a silence in the meeting, he added : 
 " The lust of hearing the voice of man remains until 
 the voice of God be heard in the soul, and then 
 <:ometh that satisfaction which no other voice can 
 ^ive." Not long afterwards he attended a general 
 meeting at Preston, during which many of the young, 
 he writes, *' were baptised of the Lord in the purify- 
 ing flame of Divine love, to their great consolation, 
 entering thereby into a covenant of light and life 
 with Him, according to His sure promise of old." 
 
 Thomas Story was seized with paralysis in 1741, 
 whilst in London, rendering what assistance he could 
 to the deeply sorrowing widow of his friend Joseph 
 Green (whose eldest son had died within a few hours 
 
 / 
 
 t/ 
 
400 THOMAS STORY. 
 
 of his father). Although his memory was much 
 impaired hy this attack, his amiability and cheerful- 
 ness were unchanged. During the summer his health 
 much improved, and he returned to Justicetown ; but 
 in the spring of the following year a second paralytic 
 seizure terminated his life. The funeral, which took 
 place at the Friends' Cemetery, Carlisle, was largely 
 attended by respectful mourners from the neighbour- 
 hood, as well as by a great number of Friends from 
 a distance. 
 
 Such a life as Thomas Story's may well stimulate 
 sincere Christians to press forward ; for does it not 
 serve to exemplify, in part, the truth, which was so 
 dear to himself, that He, whose Divine strength is 
 made perfect in human weakness, " is able to carry 
 on His work in the soul, when, and how, and to what 
 degree it pleaseth Him." 
 
401 
 
 GILBERT LATEY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 " How was it, lovers of your kind, 
 
 Though ye were mocked and hated, 
 That ye, with clear and patient mind 
 
 Truth's holy doctrine stated ? 
 In God, as in an ark, ye kept ; 
 Ground, — and not above you, — swept 
 The flood till it abated." 
 
 T. T. Lynch. 
 
 " Let me talk with you ever so lon^, and you will 
 tell me of the Spirit of God, and the grace of God, 
 and the operation thereof, and the love of God you 
 are made witnesses of through Jesus Christ, which I 
 believe may in a measure, be true ; but do you not 
 think it is well to have something to represent that 
 which you so much love ? " Such was the question 
 not unnaturally asked by Lord D'Aubigny — a priest in 
 orders of the Church of Rome, and Lord-Almoner of 
 the Queen Dowager Henrietta Maria, whom he had 
 accompanied to England — at the conclusion of a 
 conversation with Gilbert Latey the son of a Cornish 
 yeoman, who had some six years earlier been con- 
 vinced of the views of Friends. '* The substance of all 
 thingSy'' was Gilbert Latey's reply, " Vs come, Christ 
 in uSj the hope of glory ^ and all the outward types and 
 representations must come to an end, and be swal- 
 lowed up in our blessed Lord. ... He being so near 
 men and women is the saint's daily Remembrancer." 
 
 When one day Lord D'Aubigny took him through 
 
 2 D 
 
402 GILBERT LATEY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 the kneeling company in the Queen's Chapel to an 
 apartment in which was another of her priests, we 
 learn that "the word of the Lord" came to him, to 
 preach Truth unto them," which he did. In conse- 
 quence of an expression he made use of, this priest 
 asked him of what altar he spoke, and he answered 
 it was of that on which the saints daily offer up their 
 prayers. " Friend," was the priest's reply, " there is 
 --^ no greater state attainable than that you speak of ! '* 
 Gilbert Latey was born in the year 1626 in the 
 ^ parish of St. Issey, which lies on the bold, rugged 
 ^ and scantily-populated north coast of Cornwall. 
 Wishing to be bound to some trade, he chose that 
 of tailor, and, whilst still young, exchanged his 
 native place, with its bracing Atlantic breezes, for 
 Plymouth, and afterwards for London. His situation 
 at Plymouth was a very promising one ; but his 
 master, although making a great profession of religion, 
 did not carry it out in practice, and, therefore, not- 
 withstanding the offer of the best wages given to any 
 man in the town, Gilbert Latey, who had " breathings 
 in his heart after the Lord," felt that it would not be 
 right to remain with him. 
 
 . He removed to London, where he became a suc- 
 cessful tradesman in the Strand, and was patronized 
 by gentlemen of high rank. But no outward pros- 
 perity could satisfy the cravings of his soul : neither 
 could the four sermons he often heard in the course 
 of a day, nor even his frequent private prayers ; 
 though doubtless being offered in sincerity they came 
 up for a memorial before God. " To be a seeker," as 
 his contemporary Oliver Cromwell said, " is to be of 
 
GILBERT LATEY AND HIS FRIENDS. 403 
 
 the best sect next to being a finder," and yet his 
 heart must have often sunk as he went from one to 
 another of the most eminent preachers of the day, 
 without finding the enlightenment he longed for. Per- 
 haps it was but with a faint hope of better success 
 that he went one day, when about the age of twenty- 
 eight, to the house of a certain widow in Whitecross ^ 
 Street, where he had been told that a meeting would 
 be held by two Friends from the North. One of these 
 was Edward Burrough, and the fervent ministry of 
 the young dales-man, then only eighteen, was the 
 means of showing him that what he had so long 
 sought without, he might find within ; and once find- 
 ing his Lord, and experiencing that He had redeemed 
 him to God by His blood, not for one moment does 
 he seem to have hesitated on the right course to be 
 pursued, though with his wonted keenness of percep- 
 tion he must, have foreseen that a rough road lay be- 
 fore him. Nor did he enter on it with faltering steps, 
 but rather with rejoicing alacrity ; for the Pearl of 
 Great Price was in his grasp, and he could only feel 
 that it was worth selling all for. His Saviour had 
 reveated Himself to Him, and his soul was satisfied. 
 At this time Friends were scarcely known in 
 London, and Gilbert Latey was one of the first-fruits 
 of their labours ; but twenty-four years later, in 1678 ^ 
 — so richly did the blessing of the Lord crown their 
 zeal — their number had swelled to 10,000 in that' 
 city alone. Gilbert Latey's good sense and sound 
 judgment, dedicated as they were to the Lord*s 
 service, were of great use in settling the numerous 
 meetings which soon sprung up in and around the 
 
404 GILBERT LATEY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 metropolis. Amongst the latter was one at Ham- 
 mersmith, where he was, we find, during forty-nine 
 years a " frequent attender, and in measure supporter 
 thereof, being as a nursing father thereto, and the 
 Lord blessed his unwearied love." 
 
 This meeting was opened about 1658 after Ham- 
 mersmith had been visited by a Friend named Sarah 
 Blackbury, whose ministry so affected a woman 
 named Hester Mason that she entertained her at her 
 house, and obtained permission from her husband for 
 the appointment of a meeting there ; this, however, 
 he withdrew after only one meeting had been held, 
 in consequence of the many calumnies about Friends 
 hich reached his ears through his fellow-servants 
 at a Westminster brewhouse. For a while it was 
 removed to Chiswick, but was afterwards brought 
 back to Hammersmith, where a regular meeting- 
 house was built in 1677. 
 
 The first Friends' meeting established at Kingston 
 was held in the house of two faithful followers of 
 Christ, John and Ann Fielder, whose only daughter 
 Mary became the wife of Gilbert Latey. The Lord 
 Protector often resided at Hampton Court at the 
 time of the settlement of Kingston Meeting, and 
 amongst the many there " turned to the Lord" were 
 — as Gilbert Latey's nephew and biographer says — 
 ** several that then belonged to Oliver," and whom, 
 it is interesting to find, continued faithful. But for 
 thirty years it was only at the cost of fines, imprison- 
 ^ments of long duration, kicks, blows, and violent 
 beatings with clubs and carbines, that this meeting 
 was kept up. In 1663 the Kingston Friends pur- 
 
GILBERT LATEY AND HIS FRIENDS. 405 
 
 chased a burying-ground in Norbiton Street, where 
 Gilbert Latey was interred in 1705. 
 
 Allusion has already been made to his flourishing: 
 business as a master-tailor in the Strand. Not long 
 after becoming a Friend conscientious motives made 
 him decline taking orders for the gay, heavily- 
 trimmed costume, with which the fashionable gentle-- 
 men of that day attired themselves. This was no 
 slight test of principle, and some of his acquaintance 
 called him mad for throwing away his opportunity 
 for making a fortune. His numerous genteel cus- 
 tomers left him, and he had to dismiss a large staff 
 of workmen, not knowing but that he might be 
 obliged to work as a journeyman himself. But, after 
 a while, a moderate yet regular custom returned to 
 him ; and one may be sure that he had no cause to 
 regret this "world's ungathered prize."* In the very 
 midst of this trial, sorely blamed by his kindred as 
 well as by others, he realised that " it is a blessed 
 thing to be immediately under the guidance of God's 
 hand, cost what it may," for his inward peace ap- 
 pears to have abounded, and he soon felt that the 
 Lord had work for him as a public minister of the 
 Gospel ; — " to call," as one of his converts writes, 
 " me and many more out of the ways of the world, 
 and the traditions of man, to make God's truth 
 known." 
 
 Many of his former customers retained a high 
 
 • To one who asks his advice when, probably, perfect uprightness 
 and wordly profit were in the balance — Thomas Scott writes — " ' But 
 «eek ye first the kinpjdom of God and His righteousness, and all other 
 things shall be added unto you.' Dare you believe this promise or 
 not ? / dare : and will act accordingly, by God's assistance." 
 
 \ 
 
406 GILBERT LATEY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 esteem for him, at which he must have rejoiced, as 
 it frequently enabled him to obtain their aid on be- 
 half of his persecuted brethren lying in loathsome 
 --dungeons. Gilbert Latey was himself once committed 
 to the Gate-house prison in Westminster, with fifteen 
 or sixteen others, who had met together to worship 
 God. They were thrust into a perfectly dark cell, 
 of ten feet by eleven, with wet walls, on the cold 
 ground of which they in turn shared the privilege 
 of lying, standing being the only other alternative ; 
 but they knew their Lord was with them, and their 
 faith did not fail. It could not have been long after 
 their liberation that Gilbert Latey and other Friends 
 pleaded for permission to be imprisoned in the stead 
 of some among the many hundreds of their brethren 
 who were undergoing severe suffering from close con- 
 finement. 
 
 Although not allowed to make good this noble 
 offer, Gilbert Latey was successful in interceding with 
 Lord Baltimore on behalf of the persecuted Friends 
 in Maryland ; and signally so in his oft-repeated 
 appeals to Lord D'Aubigny with respect to the re- 
 lease of Katherine Evans and Sarah Cheevers from 
 ■the Inquisition. It was when waiting on that noble- 
 man in reference to this subject that Gilbert Latey 
 had the conversation which has been already related. 
 Lord D'Aubigny had power and interest in Malta, 
 and most readily listened to Gilbert Latey's tale of 
 the sufferings endured by the two Friends immured 
 in the Inquisition there. " vSome of our people think 
 your friends are mad," he one day remarked, " but 
 I entertain a very different opinion." 
 
GILBERT LATEY AND HIS FRIENDS. 4O7 
 
 It was in the year 1658 that Katherine Evans and 
 Sarah Cheevers sailed from London to Leghorn, on 
 the perilous mission of propagating the views of 
 Friends in some of the darker regions of the world. 
 At Leghorn they distributed various books, and had 
 daily conversations with people of all ranks, who pro- 
 bably thought that what two women had ventured 
 from so far to say must be worth the hearing. Thence 
 they took passage for Alexandria, but the captain of 
 the vessel put in at Malta, and as they were approach- 
 ing the island Katherine Evans exclaimed, " O, we ^ 
 have a dreadful cup to drink at that place ! " But 
 as they sailed into the harbour the fear of man was 
 taken from her, and, whilst looking at the people who 
 were standing on the walls, she said in her heart, 
 "Shall ye destroy us? If we give up to the Lord 
 He is sufficient to deliver us out of your hands.'V 
 When the, English Consul had seen some of their 
 books, he told them of the Inquisition, probably wish- 
 ing to warn them of the danger of their position ; at 
 the same time he invited them to his house, where 
 they remained for three months. Here they received 
 many callers, several of whom were affected as they " 
 listened to the solemn words of exhortation. At the 
 request of the Governor's sister, they visited her in 
 her convent, conversing with the nuns and giving 
 them books. Once, when in a Roman Catholic Chapel 
 whilst the service was being conducted, Katherine 
 Evans knelt in the midst of the congregation, and, 
 with her back toward the high altar, lifted her voice 
 in prayer. Perhaps the priest was conscious of the 
 heavenly influence pervading her petitions, for, in- • 
 
V 
 
 408 GILBERT LATEY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 stead of seeming; shocked at such an unusual act, he 
 laid aside his surplice and fell on his knees by her. 
 
 During their stay at the Consul's they were fre- 
 quently examined by the Inquisitors who, not daring 
 to take them from his house without his leave, 
 succeeded in obtaining it by the combined effect of 
 flattery, bribery, and threats. We cannot wonder that 
 his guests reminded him that Pilate would willingly 
 do the Jews a pleasure — yet wash his hands in inno- 
 cency. When the chief Inquisitor told them they 
 must retract the views which they had avowed, or 
 take the consequences of a refusal to do so, they de- 
 clined any recantation, -adding, " Then God's will be 
 done ! " They were then confined in a stiflingly hot 
 room, which had only tvv^o small apertures for the 
 admission of light and air. 
 
 In the course of a further examination, Katherine 
 Evans was asked whether she owned that Christ had 
 died at Jerusalem ; she answered, " We own the same 
 Christ and no other " ; and to the inquiry what she 
 would have done had she reached Alexandria, she 
 replied, " The will of God : if the Lord had opened 
 my mouth, I should call people to repentance, and 
 declare to them the day of the Lord." They were told 
 that they should be set free if they would take the 
 holy Sacrament, otherwise the Pope would not release 
 them for millions of gold, and they would lose soul 
 and body too. "The Lord," they answered "hath 
 provided for our souls, and our bodies are freely given 
 up to serve Him." When a friar said, " If we do 
 not eat the flesh and drink the blood of the Son of 
 God we have no life in us," — they replied : " The 
 
GILBERT LATEY AND HIS FRIENDS. 409 
 
 flesh and blood of Christ is spiritual, and we feed y 
 upon it daily, for that which is begotten of God in us 
 can no more live without spiritual food than our 
 temporal bodies can without temporal food." To the 
 remark that the Pope, being Christ's vicar, acted for 
 the good of their souls, they responded with a holy 
 confidence : " The Lord hath not committed the 
 charge of our souls to the Pope, nor to you ; for He 
 hath taken them into His own possession. Glory be 
 to His name for ever ! " 
 
 They were next removed to a room where the heat 
 was so intense that it was thought they could not 
 long survive it; for it parched their skin, caused their 
 hair to fall off, and made them faint away ; whilst 
 the closeness of the apartment frequentl}- compelled 
 them to rise from their bed, and lie down on the 
 floor in the hope of inhaling any breath of air that \ 
 might find entrance under the door. In addition to 
 these sufferings they were so violently stung by gnats 
 that their faces became swollen as with small-pox. 
 Even the friars — one would think — might have 
 deemed it superfluous to offer them the use of a 
 scourge of small cords with which they said they 
 were in the habit of whipping themselves until the 
 blood came. But the prisoners wisely and naively 
 answered that their scourge could not reach the devil v 
 that sat upon the heart. 
 
 As the Inquisition house was being altered it was. 
 often visited by citizens of the higher class, whom, 
 strange to say, Katherine Evans and Sarah Cheevers \^/ 
 were allowed to address on religous subjects; and 
 the magistrates and chief Inquisitor, instead of being 
 
\ 
 
 410 GILBERT LATEY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 indignant at this, gave orders that they should be 
 supplied with writing materials in order to commu- 
 nicate with their friends ; indeed, had it not been for 
 the strong opposition of the monks, they would pro- 
 bably have been released. At one time, when in 
 daily expectation of being burnt, Katherine Evans 
 dreamt that she saw a beautiful child sitting above a 
 iire, playing, whilst the flames ascended around it. 
 She was about to withdraw it from its apparent peril, 
 when One who had been sitting near, and whom she 
 took to be the Son of God, bade her let it alone ; 
 and then she saw that a guardian angel was present, 
 and found that the child was wholly unhurt. On 
 awaking, she told her companion not to fear, for 
 they, also, were surrounded by the heavenly host. 
 
 Soon the solace of mutual companionship was 
 denied them, a parting which they felt as a greater 
 trial than death. For nearly a year they were kept 
 in separate rooms ; but 
 
 "Though evil hearts together leaguing 
 May do the righteous wrong; 
 And cruel craft, with force intriguing 
 Feel confidently strong; 
 We know, if but the Saviour's story. 
 With heart of faith we read, 
 That God through sufferings unto glory, 
 Salvation's sons will lead." 
 
 Although they could not — as they write — " expect 
 a drop of mercy, favour, or refreshment, but what 
 the Lord did distil from His living presence," they 
 were permitted not only to " behold the brightness 
 of His glory," but also to see their distant brethren 
 and sisters in the light of Jesus, and feel the benefit 
 
GILBERT LATEY AND HIS FRIENDS. 4II 
 
 of their prayers, whilst they " were refreshed in all 
 the faithful-hearted, and felt the issues of love and 
 life which did stream from the hearts of those that 
 were wholly joined to the Fountain." Thus were 
 they borne up by God, and who can assert that their 
 mission was a vain one ? " The whole mystery of 
 iniquity," they add, is at its height, and is upheld 
 by a law that, upon pain of death, none must speak 
 against it, nor walk contrary to it. But, praises be 
 to our God, He carried us forth to declare against it 
 daily ! " The prison in which Katherine Evans was 
 confined being near the street, she often addressed 
 the passers-by, particularly when going and return- 
 ing to their chapel. 
 
 In one of her letters she writes as follows : — 
 
 *' For the hands of John Evans, my right dear and 
 precious husband, with my tender-hearted children, who 
 are more dear and precious to me than the apple of my 
 eye. Most clear and faithful husband, friend, and brother, 
 begotten of my eternal Father, of the immortal seed of 
 the covenant of light, life, and blessedness, I have unity 
 and fellowship with thee day and night, to my great re- 
 freshment and continual comfort. Praises, praises be 
 given to our God for evermore, who hath joined us 
 together in that which neither sea nor land can separate! 
 .... Oh, the endless love of God, who is an everlasting 
 fountain of all-living refreshment, whose crystal streams 
 never cease running to every thirsty soul that breatheth 
 after the springs of life and salvation ! . . . . Oh, the 
 raptures, the glorious, bright, shining countenance of 
 our Lord God, who is our fulness in emptiness, our 
 health in sickness, our life in death, our joy in sorrow, 
 our peace in disquietness, our praise in heaviness, our 
 power in all necessities. He is a full God unto us, and 
 to all that can trust Him. He hath emptied us of our- 
 selves, and hath wholly built us upon the sure founda- 
 
 v/ 
 
412 GILBERT LATEY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 tion — the Rock of Ages, Jesus Christ I do believe 
 
 ^we shall see your faces again with joy. — K. E." 
 
 One more testimony is this to the all-sufficiency of 
 the grace of God — to those that take hold of His 
 Covenant — and a testimony given at a time when 
 one might naturally imagine that extreme physical 
 pain and oppression would have forbidden fulness of 
 joy, however powerless they might be to shake the 
 confidence of faith. But as the sufferings of the 
 prisoners abounded, so — it is manifest — their conso- 
 lations abounded also. " Oh, the love of the Lord 
 to my soul ! " writes Sarah Cheevers, " My tongue 
 cannot express, neither hath it entered into the heart 
 of man to conceive of the things that God hath laid 
 up for them that fear Him. I cannot by pen or 
 paper set forth the large love of God in fulfilling His 
 gracious promises to me in the wilderness." In the 
 same letter she urges her husband and children 
 to " embrace God's love in making His truth so 
 clearly manifest among you, by the messengers of 
 Christ, who preached to you the word of God in 
 season and out of season, directing you where you may 
 find your Saviour to purge and cleanse you from your 
 si'ns and to reconcile you to His Father." To her 
 friends in Ireland she writes : — '' My life is given up 
 to the service of the Lord. Bonds, chains, bolts, 
 irons, double-doors, death itself, are too little for the 
 testimony of Jesus." 
 
 When one of the friars told Katherine Evans that 
 he would load her with heavy chains, she answered 
 that whatever he did to her he could not separate her 
 from the love of God in Christ Jesus ; and when he 
 
GILBERT LATEY AND HIS FRIENDS. 413 
 
 thereupon added that he would give her to the devil, 
 she replied, " I do not fear all the devils in hell ; the 
 Lord is my Keeper." When told that they had not 
 the true faith, she answered, "By faith we stand. - 
 Dost thou think it is by our power and holiness we 
 are kept from sin?" and in response to the accusa- 
 tion of pride she added, "We can glory in the Lord; 
 we were children of wrath, but the Lord has quickened 
 us by the living word of His grace, and hath washed, 
 cleansed, and sanctified us in soul and spirit, in part, 
 according to our measures ; and we do press forwards 
 towards that which is perfect." So entire was the 
 resignation granted her that when she one day felt 
 the spirit of supplication in an unusual degree, whilst 
 the language applied to her soul was, " Ask what 
 thou wilt, and I will grant it thee" — she could only 
 crave that which would be for the glory of God, 
 whether bondage or liberty, life or death. 
 
 After their imprisonment had lasted about three 
 years, earnest efforts for their liberation were made 
 by a Friend named Daniel Baker, who, spending 
 more than three weeks on the island, visited them 
 repeatedly at the risk of his life, supplied some of 
 their wants, and took charge of several letters to 
 their English Friends. In vain he pleaded with the 
 Inquisitor on their behalf, although he offered, first 
 his liberty, and then his life, in exchange for their 
 release. When allowed to have an interview with 
 them, through the prison-grates, he thus addressed 
 them : "The whole body of God's elect, right dearly 
 beloved, own your testimony, and ye are a sweet 
 savour unto the Lord and His people." And these 
 
414 GILBERT LATEY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 seem to have been seasonable words of cheer, for one 
 of them answered that it was a sorrow to them that 
 they could not be " more serviceable." Yet, surely,, 
 to them might Milton's grand line be applied — 
 
 " They also serve who only stand and wait." 
 
 For their loyalty to their Lord in the midst of sore 
 and solitary suffering must, in its steadfast strength, 
 have been as " a spectacle unto the world, and ta 
 angels, and to men." Their very persecutors were 
 constrained to admit that, although they had not the 
 true faith, they had all virtues, so manifestly were 
 they preserved by Him for whom they had suffered 
 the loss of all things. "The time is too little," 
 writes Katherine Evans, "for me to disclose the 
 twentieth part of these terrible trials ; but whenever 
 we were brought upon any trial the Lord did take 
 away all fear from us, and gave us power and bold- 
 ness to plead for the truth of the Lord Jesus." 
 Liberty was offered them if they would kiss the 
 
 ? cross, but they of course declined it on such con- 
 ditions. 
 
 Before his departure, Daniel Baker was told that 
 they should be released if any one would engage to 
 pay three or four thousand dollars should they ever 
 return to Malta ; otherwise, the Pope's orders were 
 that they should die in prison. But about six months 
 later, after a captivity of nearly four years, their 
 liberation was procured by the mediation of Lord 
 D'Aubigny, to whom, in addition to the urgent and 
 
 xfrequent solicitations of Gilbert Latey, George Fox 
 had applied on their behalf. Before they left the 
 
fTJiriVBRSITT) 
 
 GILBERT LATEY AND HIS FRIENDS. 415 
 
 Inquisition, courteous leave was taken of them by 
 the Inquisitor and magistrates, and then they knelt 
 down and prayed that God would not lay to the 
 charge of these officers what they had done to them. 
 On their arrival in London they visited Gilbert Latey^ 
 who accompanied them to the residence of Lord 
 D'Aubigny. During the interview they addressed 
 him on the subjects which lay nearest to their hearts,, 
 and at its close added that, " were it in their power, 
 they should be as ready in all love to serve him."^ 
 " Good women," he answered, " for what kindness I 
 have done you, all that I shall desire of you is that 
 when you pray to God you will remember me in your 
 prayers." 
 
 Gilbert Latey was about this time a constant 
 attender at a meeting which had been estabhshed, 
 chiefly in consequence of his efforts, in a house at 
 Pall Mall, ^he home of a Friend named Elizabeth 
 Trott. For a while the company who assembled 
 there were unmolested — a rare circumstance in those 
 days — but at length a justice of the peace, with whom 
 Gilbert Latey was acquainted, and to whose pro- 
 tection he had appealed, told him that he had been 
 much blamed for his leniency in allowing a meeting 
 to be held so near St. James's Palace, the residence 
 of the Duke of York, and had now received positive 
 orders to disperse it. These orders were soon exe- 
 cuted, and Gilbert Latey and another Friend were 
 taken away as prisoners ; but, though this was often 
 his lot, Gilbert Latey patiently persevered in at- 
 tending the meeting, which after the death of Eliza- 
 beth Trott was removed to the Little Almonry, 
 
\ 
 
 416 GILBERT LATEY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 where for more than a hundred years a Friends* 
 fleeting was kept up. One of the two tenants on 
 the premises being the master of a boys' school, the 
 Monthly Meeting, with prudent foresight, stipulated 
 that he should keep the windows in repair.* 
 
 In 1665, the year of the Great Plague, although 
 Gilbert Latey had engaged lodgings in the country, 
 he abandoned the idea of leaving the city whilst so 
 many of his brethren were in close confinement, and 
 continued to minister to their necessities. He like- 
 wise visited in their own homes many Friends who 
 had been stricken with the terrible pestilence, and 
 for a long while escaped infection ; but one day, after 
 ■sitting in a cold, damp room, he took a severe chill, 
 and was soon afterwards seized with the disease, at 
 his recovery from which many grateful hearts must 
 have rejoiced. 
 
 In 1670, after holding several meetings in his native 
 county and during his journey thither, Gilbert Latey 
 went to Kingsbridge, where the Friends were under- 
 going severe persecution, particularly two young 
 ladies who had lately joined the Society and had been 
 committed to prison by a fiery-tempered magistrate, 
 Justice Bare, for non-attendance at church. As Gilbert 
 Latey was acquainted with some influential gentlemen 
 of Devon, he determined to make an appeal on their 
 behalf. One of these gentlemen, " a great knight," 
 who, with his wife and daughters, gave him a kind 
 and courteous reception, said that he ''would do more 
 for Gilbert than for all his friends of his persuasion in 
 
 * London Friends'' Meetings. 
 
GILBERT LATEY AND HIS FRIENDS. 417 
 
 the kingdom." Gilbert Latey entreated him to attend 
 the sessions which were soon to be held, to require 
 that the young prisoners should be brought before the 
 Bench, and to urge the justices to release them. When 
 the sessions took place, this gentleman succeeded in 
 appeasing Justice Bares's indignation, and, whilst 
 dining with him and the other magistrates, told them 
 that he had been importuned to use his interest with 
 them for "two fine young women, Quakers," im- 
 prisoned for not going to church, and begged them 
 to favour him by setting them at liberty. From his 
 position there was little danger of such a request 
 being refused, but he knew there was still a difficulty 
 to be overcome : the Friends would probably feel a 
 conscientious objection to paying the prison fees of an 
 unjust confinement, and might therefore be detained 
 on that ground. So he laid down some money on 
 the table, afnd said, *' We must among ourselves col- 
 lect as much to give the gaoler as will answer their 
 fees ; and, here, I will begin." An account of the 
 liberation of the Friends being sent to Gilbert Latey, 
 he did not forget to return *' his humble acknowledg- 
 ment to the knight." 
 
 Before leaving Cornwall Gilbert Latey had learnt, 
 by letters from his London friends, that steps had 
 been taken towards pulling down Korsleydown Meet- 
 ing-house, and that Sir John Robinson, the Governor 
 of the Tower, had given similar orders for that at 
 Ratcliff ; and finally he was informed that Wheeler 
 Street Meeting-house, the title of which he owned, 
 was doomed to like destruction. Sir John Robinson, 
 a bitter persecutor of Friends, was a very formidable 
 
 2 E 
 
v] 
 
 418 GILBERT LATEY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 enemy, and had been in the habit of sending scores 
 of the quiet Wheeler Street worshippers to the " New 
 Prison," the gaoler of which fully carried out the 
 Governor's wishes by his cruel treatment of the cap- 
 tives ; not content with severely beating and half- 
 starving them, he induced the felons under his care to 
 rob them of the food which their friends had brought 
 them. 
 
 Gilbert Latey made up his mind that this meeting- 
 house should not share the fate of the others from 
 any timidity with respect to defending the title of it. 
 On his return to London he bade his attorney make 
 a formal lease of the premises, and let them to a 
 poor Friend. This being accomplished, he felt him- 
 self quite ready to face the Governor, who asked him 
 how he dared own any meeting-house contrary to 
 the King's laws. To this he answered that he 
 had owned it before such a law was in existence. 
 " I find you are a pretty fellow," said Sir John — 
 *'pray who lives in the meeting-house?" "My 
 tenant," said Gilbert Latey. " Your tenant 1 What 
 is your tenant ? " exclaimed the astonished Governor. 
 *' One that I have thought good to grant a lease to," 
 was the quiet response. The Governor finding him- 
 self fairly matched, turned to a Friend, who had 
 previously had an interview with him, and said, *' I 
 think you have now fitted me. You have brought a 
 fellow to the purpose ; had your friends been all as 
 wise as this fellow, you might have had your other 
 meeting-houses ! " This hint, given on the impulse 
 of the moment, was taken full advantage of. 
 
 In company with George Whitehead, Gilbert Latey 
 
GILBERT LATEY AND HIS FRIENDS. 419 
 
 made many appeals, and often with success, to 
 Charles II., James II., and William III., for the 
 persecuted Friends; a service in which they were 
 frequently cheered by their consciousness of the 
 Lord's presence. In 1683 — when sixty-three Friends 
 of Norwich were suffering a cruel imprisonment for 
 the offence of assembling for Divine worship — they 
 went to Hampton Court in order to lay their case 
 before King Charles. They met the King in the 
 park, and, at their entreaty, he stood still, and readily 
 gave heed to their complaint. He then entered into 
 conversation with them, and, amongst other remarks, 
 said, *' You will not pull off your hats, and what 
 have you to say for that ? " " If to any mortal," was 
 Gilbert Latey's answer, " then to the King in the 
 first place ; but it is a matter of conscience, and we 
 only do it when we approach the Lord in prayer." * 
 ** I admire to see such wise men Quakers," observed 
 Charles, who was in a gracious mood. The unusual 
 clemency granted the Friends at the next assizes at 
 Norwich, when they were released and not charged 
 with prison fees, was, with good ground, supposed v 
 to be the result of this appeal. 
 
 Whilst deeply interesting himself in thus publicly 
 
 • •• In the reign of Charles II.," writes Hepworth Dixon, " men 
 wore their hats in house and church as well as in the street and 
 park. Men set at meals in felt, and listened to a play in felt. ' I 
 got a strange cold in my head,' wrote Pepys, ' by flinging off my hat 
 at dinner.' Every one ate covered. ... A preacher mounted to the 
 pulpit in his hat: the audience wore their hats, and only doffed 
 them at the name of God. , . . Hat lifting therefore was a sign of a 
 depraved and foreign fashion recently brought into England from 
 abroad. All sober men put on their hats, while wits and foplings 
 carried them in their hands." 
 
 v/ 
 
420 GILBERT LATEY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 aiding his distressed brethren, Gilbert Latey did not 
 overlook more private cases of sorrow ; to the poor, 
 the bereaved, and the sick, he was ever a friend in 
 need. One day when he was receiving a business 
 order from Lady Sawkell at her residence, her hus- 
 band, who was accustomed to treat him with kind- 
 ness and familiarity, entered the room, and asked him 
 what meeting he usually attended. He replied that 
 he sometimes went to one and sometimes to another. 
 Sir William Sawkell, who had a command in a regi- 
 ment of horse, then said, "The reason I ask is be- 
 cause I have had orders to break up a meeting of 
 your people at Hammersmith next Sunday from so 
 high a hand that I dare not omit executing them, and 
 therefore I speak in kindness to you, that if at any 
 time you go thither, you may refrain coming that 
 day." On hearing this Gilbert Latey at once felt 
 that it would be right for him to go to Hammersmith, 
 notwithstanding this warning, and so he told Sir 
 William as he left his house. Commissioned by his 
 Lord, and upheld by His protecting presence, he was 
 powerfully engaged in ministry when the troopers 
 entered Hammersmith meeting. For some time they 
 stood still, silently listening to his earnest words ; 
 but after a while one of them exclaimed, whilst suiting 
 the action to the word — " This man will never have 
 done, let us pull him down." " Let your officer know 
 that I am here, and my name is Gilbert Latey," he 
 said. The hale and jovial commander entered trem- 
 bling, and did not speak at once ; but, when somewhat 
 less agitated, said, " Latey, did I not tell you that I 
 was commanded to be here to-day ? " ** And did not 
 
GILBERT LATEY AND HIS FRIENDS. 42 1 
 
 I also tell thee I was commanded by a greater than 
 thou, that I must be here also ? " *' Go, get thee 
 gone about thy business," answered Sir William ; " I 
 will take care concerning the rest here met." '* If 
 thou hast any respect for me," was Gilbert Latey's 
 response, *' then discharge all the rest, and let me be 
 thy prisoner." This request was acceded to, and re- ^ 
 suited in Gilbert Latey's being fined, whilst some 
 who had been present were distrained upon. But 
 Gilbert Latey's repeated entreaties that others might 
 not suffer in consequence of anything he had said or 
 done were given heed to, and the goods were ulti- 
 mately returned to their lawful owners. So ready 
 was he to take on himself the penalties intended ^ 
 for his friends, that at one time there were warrants 
 out against him for several hundred pounds. 
 
 His ministry, which was much blessed, was chiefly 
 confined to, London and its vicinity, where it was his 
 wont to go to various meetings as his mind was 
 attracted to them.* When at Exeter, in 1679, he 
 solicited an interview with Bishop Lamplugh, whom 
 he wished to thank for the frequent favours he had 
 freely bestowed on the Friends residing in his diocese, 
 sometimes in consequence of representations made 
 him by Gilbert Latey. A warm welcome awaited 
 him at the palace, where the Bishop took him in his 
 arms and blessed him, and then, leading him into a 
 private room, said, "All must not know how well 
 
 • He would probably have united in the sentiment lately expressed 
 by an American minister, on the great desirability of Friends attend- 
 ing different meetings in their own neighbourhood, '' without waiting 
 for any appointment but the appointment of the Holy Spirit." 
 
422 GILBERT LATEY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 you and I love one another. What wine shall I give 
 you ? " To this Gilbert Latey replied that he had 
 given his love, which was better than wine, — and 
 then, at his host's request, took a seat by his side. 
 In a letter to Gilbert Latey Dr. Lamplugh remarks : 
 " I never was nor will be for persecution, but shall 
 endeavour that by any amicable way such as have 
 erred may be brought into the way of truth, and 
 that we may all enjoy one another in heaven. . . . 
 God Almighty bless you : I am your true loving 
 friend, Thomas Exon.'" 
 
 When James II. ascended the throne fourteen hun- 
 dred and sixty Friends were confined in the prisons of 
 England and Wales, in the damp and noisome dun- 
 geons of which many had already died. Husbands 
 had been parted from wives, parents from children, 
 and whole families deprived of the means of support. 
 Gilbert Latey shared in George Whitehead's un- 
 wearied efforts and prayers for their relief; and the 
 health of both was injured by the mental strain and 
 physical fatigue incurred in obtaining warrants and 
 getting them executed. At length the former, though 
 scarcely able to get into a carriage, left his wife and 
 children with the hope of gaining some invigoration 
 from country air : but, after only a week's rest, a 
 letter from George Whitehead reached him, stating 
 that he was himself too ill to leave the house, and 
 urging him to return to town if possible. Lifting 
 his heart to the Lord for strength for the service 
 which lay before him, he went back to London, and 
 attended at the " Pipe Office '* until the matter was 
 satisfactorily settled, resulting in the liberation of a 
 
GILBERT LATEY AND HIS FRIENDS. 423 
 
 great number of Friends. It was also at the solici- 
 tation of George Whitehead and Gilbert Latey that 
 the meeting-houses at the Park, Southwark, and at 
 the Savoy in the Strand, were restored to Friends 
 by the King, after having been used as guard-houses ; 
 the former had been greatly damaged by the soldiers 
 who had carried off wainscotting, benches, doors, 
 and casements ; and then cut down and burnt the 
 surrounding trees. 
 
 Gilbert Latey's own dwelling was on the same 
 premises as the Savoy Meeting-house, which stood 
 in a paved yard, and was accessible through a pas- 
 sage which lay underneath his house, and terminated 
 in a stone staircase. Mary Latey writes of how her 
 " dear and well-beloved husband was given up in 
 perilous times of sufferings, a constant testimony- 
 bearer to the way of the Lord and His power which 
 was felt to, attend His people in their meetings, even 
 when they were kept without doors in the wet and 
 cold, where he often stood bearing witness to the 
 truth and way of the Lord. In all which [she 
 adds] I never did persuade or dared desire him either 
 to go to this meeting or not to go to that, but always 
 left him his freedom to go where his Lord did order 
 him, in which I had, and still have, great peace." 
 
 One day Gilbert Latey met with George Whitehead 
 and William Penn at Whitehall, and was asked to go 
 with them to wait on the King. He did not at once 
 fall in with this proposal, but presently felt that it 
 would be right to say a few words to King James, 
 Avith whom they had an almost private interview. 
 After his friends had addressed him, Gilbert Latey 
 
^ 
 
 424 GILBERT LATEY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 said that they wished to " humbly acknowledge " the 
 kindness which he had manifested to them as a people 
 in their time of great affliction. " I truly desire," 
 he added, " that God may show the King mercy and 
 favour in the time of his trouble and sore distress."' 
 James merely replied, "I thank you;" but a con- 
 siderable time afterwards, when in Ireland, he re- 
 quested a Friend to give the following message to- 
 Gilbert Latey, " Tell him, the words he spake to me 
 I shall never forget ; the one part of them is come, 
 and I pray God the other may also come to pass." 
 When Gilbert Latey uttered them, he was wholly 
 unaware that a political crisis was at hand. 
 
 In 1694, encouraged by the Meeting for Sufferings,. 
 Gilbert Latey and some other Friends laid before 
 William III. the severity of suffering incurred by 
 their brethren or themselves in consequence of their 
 scruple with reference to oaths. They reminded him 
 of how leniently some of his family had dealt with 
 the Mennonites under similar circumstances, and 
 begged that the English Friends " might partake of, 
 his royal favour." Cheered by his answer, they also 
 apphed to some of the Ministers of State, and leading 
 members of the House of Commons; and even eminent 
 Peers and Commoners suggested that they should pre- 
 sent a petition on the subject. At every reading the 
 House divided on the Bill, and a large number, who 
 were usually inclined to be very hard upon Dissenters, . 
 gave it their support. 
 
 Great surprise was awakened by this, which one 
 nobleman expressed to Gilbert Latey. At the same, 
 time there were other members who violently opposed 
 
GILBERT LATEY AND HIS FRIENDS. 425, 
 
 the measure, and one of these, a very influential man,, 
 when the Bill was about to be read for the last time^ 
 went out to gather together as many members as 
 might be, from the Court of Requests and elsewhere, 
 in order to induce them to accompany him to the 
 House, and vote against it. But, when on the point 
 of re-entering with his recuits, he found that all his 
 pains would be unavailing, for he was just too late to 
 take part in the division ; the door was shut, and the 
 order that the lobby should be cleared had been 
 given. The Friends, whose fervent prayers had that 
 day ascended for the aid of the Almighty, could but 
 recognise His hand in this circumstance; nor did their 
 faith fail during the long months that elapsed from 
 the time of their first application to the King, to the 
 day when the Bill finally passed the House of Lords. 
 The extreme importance attached by Friends to this 
 measure, the prayerfulness and intense earnestness, 
 with which they carried it to a successful issue, are 
 ample proof of the vast amount of suffering they had 
 endured in consequence of their steadfast adherence 
 to a religious conviction. 
 
 In his old age, Gilbert Latey also occasionally 
 applied to Queen Anne on behalf of his oppressed 
 brethren. It was said of him by a contemporary — 
 well able from his own position to make the estimate 
 — that "of all the men among Friends he ever knew 
 or heard of, he never followed a man that had a 
 sweeter character than Gilbert Latey at court." In 
 addition to his interviews with royalty, he had many 
 of a similar kind with dukes, marquises, earls, barons, 
 and bishops. At such seasons it was his wont to 
 
 \/ 
 
426 GILBERT LATEY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 give himself up to God's guidance ; and he advised 
 any who might be called to a like service "to feel the 
 love of God in their hearts, and in that, and in great 
 humility, to make their approaches, keeping to the 
 anointing spoken of in i John ii. 27." 
 
 As his strength declined he spent much time in 
 the country. His spiritual vigour was undiminished, 
 and was especially conspicuous when, a few months 
 before his death, he one day preached in Hammer- 
 smith Meeting what proved to be his last sermon. It 
 would seem that no other minister was present, and 
 a large company had assembled, whom he was enabled 
 to address for nearly an hour with remarkable power 
 and unction, inviting allto come to God "in andthrough 
 the Lord Jesus Christ, the way and only means to 
 restore man into the image and favour of God." 
 
 The night before his death he earnestly spoke to 
 those around him — as if he had been in a meeting — 
 of love and tenderness, and of how God would bless 
 such as were found therein. The following day he 
 did not leave his chamber, but was able to speak 
 freely to his friends. " There is no condemnation to 
 them that are in Christ Jesus," he said ; " He is the 
 lifter-up of my head, He is my strength and great 
 salvation." He died in 1705, in his seventy-ninth 
 year. He had been very solicitous for the best wel- 
 fare of his children — eleven in number — only two of 
 whom outlived an early youth. " I believe," writes 
 his widow, " no woman hath parted with a better 
 husband, nor children with a more tender father or 
 more sincere man. It is the Lord'swill to remove him, 
 and in that I endeavour and desire to be content." 
 
GILBERT LATEY AND HIS FRIENDS. 427 
 
 The same spirit that animated Gilbert Latey and 
 upheld Katherine Evans and Sarah Cheevers may be 
 manifested even in very quiet lives, w^hen placed at 
 the Divine disposal. By the man of business who, 
 strictly upright and unselfish, scorns to substitute 
 any merely conventional standard of trade morality 
 for the law of Christ, and who uses his leisure with 
 conscientious care ; by the earnest student truly 
 dedicating his cultivated intellect to the service of 
 its Almighty Giver; by the patient mother ever 
 striving to train her children for heaven, and con- 
 sequently for good lives on earth ; by the young and 
 joyous freely yielding the fresh fragrance of their 
 lives to the Lord who died for them ; by the chronic 
 invalid incited to many small services by love and 
 loyalty to Him who once said, ** She hath done what 
 she could " ; by unmurmuring sufferers, bearing a 
 secret cross, who live the life they now live by faith 
 in the Son of God, with an absolutely unwavering 
 trust in His love, and a calm certainty that what 
 they know not now of the needs-be for His dealings 
 with them they shall know hereafter; by all and 
 any who, having an intense and practical conviction 
 that "the things which are seen are temporal, but 
 the things which are not seen are eternal," and that 
 
 " The world we cannot see, with that we view ^^ 
 Is alway blending " — 
 
 can say, in the words of George Herbert, " / am but 
 finitCy yet Thine infinitely.''^ 
 
428 
 
 GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 
 
 " No mortal doth know 
 What He can bestow, 
 What light, strength and comfort do after Him go ; 
 So onward I'll move, 
 And but Christ above, 
 None guesses how wondrous the journey will prove." 
 
 Old Hymn. 
 
 *' Sixty blessed years of active service for his 
 Lord." Thus spoke a minister of the Society of 
 Friends in reference to George Whitehead. Ad- 
 dressing himself especially to his younger hearers, 
 he queried, " Who were the chief workers in Apostolic 
 times, and in the early days of our Society? Not 
 the old, but the young. And why should it not be 
 so now ? " 
 
 George Whitehead was one of the ministers, more 
 than sixty in number, to whom George Fox thus 
 alludes under date of 1654: — "About this time did 
 the Lord move upon the spirits of many whom He 
 had raised up, to travel in the service of the Gospel." 
 Upheld *' not by might nor by power," but by the 
 Spirit of the Lord, they went forth, and did His bid- 
 ding, and the natural consequences of such heaven- 
 commissioned labours ensued. Of many of their 
 number it might be said — as Francis Howgill did 
 say of Edward Burrough — " his very strength was 
 bended after God;'' men who could thank Him for 
 having bestowed on them, in addition to loyal hearts 
 
GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 429 
 
 and willing hands, the good gifts of youthful vigour 
 and manly strength, wherewith to steadfastly uphold 
 and display the banner of the Captain of their sal- 
 vation. Is there less need in this our day of such 
 standard-bearers for the army of the Lord of Hosts, 
 who — 
 
 *' Saved by a Divine alliance 
 From terror of defeat," 
 
 would with unfaltering step and undaunted spirit 
 follow Him who is going forth noWy " conquering and 
 to conquer," and *' of the increase of whose govern- 
 ment and peace there shall be no end " ? 
 
 George Whitehead was born in the parish of Orton, 
 Westmoreland, about the year 1636, and his heart had 
 in early life been drawn to seek after God, though 
 such longings were too often quenched whilst he in- 
 dulged himself in unsatisfying worldly pleasures. In 
 reference to his state at the age of fourteen, after 
 writing of his dissatisfaction with the teaching of the 
 Presbyterians, he says : — " Being at a loss in my spirit 
 for what I sometimes secretly desired, I was as one 
 bewildered, and wandered further, seeking among 
 other people who had some higher and more refined 
 notions concerning Spiritual gifts," &c. Soon he 
 hears of a people called Quakers, towards whom he 
 feels so much attracted as even " to contend for them 
 and their principles," before being present at any of 
 their meetings. After a while, however, he attended 
 one, which was held at the house of a Captain Ward, 
 of Sunny-Bank, near Kendal. Here, although in- 
 terested in the ministry of a Friend named Thomas 
 Arcy, he was chiefly impressed by what he terms ** the 
 
430 GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 
 
 great work of the power of the Lord in the meeting, 
 breaking the hearts of divers into great sorrow." One 
 young giri in the bitterness of her grief left the meet- 
 ing, and was followed by George Whitehead, who 
 found her sitting on the ground, with her face 
 \ towards it, so regardless of everything but her own 
 \ overwhelming sense of sinfulness that she was crying 
 A out, " Lord, make me clean ! " This circumstance 
 reached his heart more effectually than any sermon 
 he had ever heard ; for he believed that the distress 
 he had witnessed that morning was effected by the 
 Spirit of God, and that it was a preliminary to pardon, 
 regeneration and sanctification — as in many cases it 
 proved to be. 
 
 His belief that the Lord was about to raise up a 
 people to worship Him in spirit and in truth grew 
 stronger ; and as it did so, notwithstanding the bitter 
 speeches of his kindred, he regularly attended the 
 meetings at Sedbergh and Grayrigg, and soon iden- 
 tified himself with Friends, whose conversation and 
 fellowship were very congenial to him. Meanwhile 
 he was learning, from no human teacher, that " with- 
 out being converted as well as convinced," he could 
 not enter into the Kingdom of God. Fervent also 
 were his yearnings to be "truly renewed in the spirit 
 of his mind, and therein joined to the Lord;" and 
 whilst willingly enduring His Fatherly chastening, 
 his heart was melted by the realisation of His mercy 
 through Christ. 
 
 In the meetings which George Whitehead attended 
 
 ^ from his sixteenth to his eighteenth year there was 
 
 but little preaching, indeed they were often held in 
 
GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 43! 
 
 silence; but it must have been a ^^ living silence,*' for 
 he writes of " many blessed and comfortable seasons 
 of refreshment from the presence of our heavenly 
 Father ; " and it was in these, and similar meetings 
 in the North, that the Lord was raising up a noble 
 band, whose influence should soon be felt throughout 
 the length and breadth of the land. " Waiting in 
 true silence upon Him [writes George Whitehead]^ 
 and eyeing His inward appearance in spirit, and the 
 work of His power in us, we came truly to feel our 
 strength renewed in living faith, true love and holy 
 zeal for His name. O ! thus keeping silence before 
 the Lord, and thus drawing near to Him, is the way 
 for renewing our strength, and to be His ministers to 
 speak to others only what He first speaks to us."^ 
 Already, to the comfort of his friends, he occasionally 
 found it right to express a few words in these meet- 
 ings. AtthC'Same time, having yielded himself to the 
 control and teaching of Christ, he was led on, surely 
 if slowly, towards "the victory over Satan." With 
 the firm belief that God will reveal to the seeking 
 soul — in His own good time — the mystery of "Christ 
 in us the hope of glory," he was constrained to 
 wait in faith for this revelation by which he might 
 experience more and more of " the power and coming 
 of Christ in Spirit, as his Sanctifier, Teacher and 
 Guide." 
 
 After striving to influence for good those amongst 
 whom he dwelt, when in his eighteenth year a weighty 
 concern, he says, came on him to travel Southwards. 
 A young friend of his offered to bear him company, 
 and they set out on foot in the direction of York. In 
 
432 GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 
 
 the course of this journey his heart was cheered by 
 meeting with George Fox, Alexander Parker, John 
 Whitehead, and also Richard Hubberthorn, whom he 
 
 /Visited in Norwich Castle, where he was confined in a 
 cell on a cross-wall. At Diss, George Whitehead met 
 with William Barber, a man of influential position and 
 a captain in the army, who was deeply affected during 
 a religious interview which George Whitehead had 
 with himself and some others. " Truth was near in 
 him," writes George Whitehead," and I felt him near 
 it, and my heart was open and tender towards him in 
 the love of Christ." Both his wife and himself became 
 Friends, and patiently bore the long trial of his twenty 
 years' imprisonment in Norwich Castle, the result 
 chiefly of the malice borne him by an elderly clergy- 
 
 ^man in consequence of his scruples with respect to 
 thepayment of tithes. Returning to Norwich, George 
 Whitehead soon found himself an inmate of the city 
 gaol, where he suffered much from cold during a con- 
 ifinement of eight weeks. Whilst he was riding out 
 of the town of Repham, after holding a meeting there, 
 he thought it right to solemnly address the people in 
 the streets : as they violently stoned him, he could 
 not at first keep his horse sufliciently still for his 
 purpose, but when they grew calmer, he " cleared 
 his conscience " to them, and felt that the presence 
 of the Lord preserved him from bodily injury. 
 
 George Whitehead held several meetings in a pri- 
 A^ate house at Wymondham, one of which was at- 
 tended by a Captain John Lawrence, who was so 
 much impressed as to ask George Whitehead to hold 
 A meeting at Wramplingham, an invitation which the 
 
GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 433 
 
 latter gladly accepted. Three clergymen, who greatly 
 despised his youth, were present in order to oppose 
 him; but they found that the boyish preacher, though 
 answering them in the spirit of meekness, was in- 
 vested with a power which they could not withstand; 
 for ere this he had learnt that " the more low he was 
 in himself, the more God would manifest His power, 
 and bless his sei*vice." After this meeting, the wife of 
 one of the clerg>'men said to a sister-in-law of John 
 Lawrence, in allusion to a playful remark which that 
 lady had previously made, *' Now Mrs. Bedwell, I 
 know you will be of the Quaker's side, for you said 
 you would be for the strongest." This surmise was a 
 correct one, and from George Whitehead we learn 
 that Elizabeth Bedwell "continued a faithful innocent 
 Friend until death; " and also that Captain Lawrence, 
 and many members of his family, as well as several 
 others, were " convinced of theTruth." Notwithstand- 
 ing the persecution which befel him Captain Lawrence 
 steadfastly stood his ground, and there were many who 
 were led by the example of his family and himself to 
 seek for Christ as their Saviour, their Teacher and 
 their High Priest. He had been a member of an 
 Independent congregation, the pastor and elders of 
 which now desired to excommunicate him ; and when 
 in the following year they summoned him to a meeting 
 held in a church at Norwich, he was accompanied 
 thither by George Whitehead. 
 
 After John Lawrence had explained his reasons for 
 separating from them, George Whitehead arose to 
 address the large company who had assembled, but 
 soon found himself on the ground, held down in 
 
 2 F 
 
434 GEORGE WPIITEHEAD. 
 
 a pew,. whence he was dragged out of the church and 
 consigned to the mercies of the clamorous mob, who 
 were waiting to lay violent hands on the young 
 preacher, whom they pulled through the Market-place 
 and streets, and sometimes threw down on the stones. 
 Soon they reached one of the city gates, near which 
 was the residence of a certain Lady Hubbard; just at 
 that moment, although still pursued by the rabble, he 
 could choose whether to go towards her house, or to 
 leave the city by the road which led to Wramplingham 
 — a choice which filled him with perplexity, for he was 
 well aware that his life was in imminent peril. But 
 in the midst of the bewildering tumult he lifted his 
 heart to the Lord, asking Him to grant him His 
 guidance ; — a prayer which was answered by the idea 
 which at once arose in his mind that, if he must 
 needs lose his life, his death would be more likely to 
 tend to the glory of God within the city. To what- 
 ever might be His will he abandoned himself ; and 
 then turned to ascend the hill on the summit of which 
 the mansion stood. The shouting of the infuriated 
 crowd made Lady Hubbard's chaplain and most of the 
 family come out to discover the cause of so great an 
 uproar. One would hardly think it an appropiate 
 time for a theological discussion, yet the chaplain 
 engaged George Whitehead in one of half-an-hour's 
 duration, while his persecutors formed a circle around 
 them. When this conversation was ended a soldier 
 came up to George Whitehead and offered to accom- 
 pany him to his lodgings, whither he safely guarded 
 him, whilst with his hand laid on his sword he 
 ordered the crowd to make way. Twenty-five years 
 
GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 435 
 
 later, when a prisoner in Norwich Castle, George 
 Whitehead met with a Friend from Lynn, named 
 Robert Turner, whom, it would seem, he had pre- 
 viously known by report, and, to his astonishment, / 
 found in him his magnanimous rescuer from the 
 rabble. Notwithstanding the cruelties imposed on 
 imprisoned Friends, often with flagrant criminals 
 for their companions, it is not strange that George 
 Whitehead should say that in those days prisons 
 were as sanctuaries to them from the fury of the 
 mob. Ignorant and undisciplined as the latter were, 
 with passions, if suppressed, ready to burst into 
 llames at any moment, we may well believe that 
 less guilt rested upon them than upon the cultivated 
 oiergy and magistrates who, well knowing what 
 consequences would ensue, deliberately laid the 
 match to such materials. 
 
 Much blessing rested on these early labours of 
 George Whitehead, and in his old age he writes 
 that it was still a very memorable matter to him 
 that by *' preaching livingly the New Covenant, the 
 Word nigh to people in their hearts, yea the Gospel of the 
 free grace and love of God to mankind, many were 
 effectually convinced and persuaded of the blessed 
 ever-living Truth as it is Christ Jesus. And how 
 diligent [he continues] were many in those days, in 
 going many miles to Friends' meetings, both ancient 
 and young, men and women, maidens and children ! 
 What love, what brokenness and terwierness would 
 be in meetings in those days of their first love and 
 espousals unto Christ Jesus in His light, life and 
 spirit." 
 
436 GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 
 
 After the release of Richard Hubberthorn, George 
 Whitehead and he held some meetings in Norfolk. 
 One of those who cast in his lot with Friends from 
 that part of England, was William Bennet, who after- 
 wards advocated his Redeemer's cause by his holy 
 life and conversation, his ministry, and his patient 
 endurance of much and severe persecution. Tribu- 
 lation had apparently taught him, like many others 
 how to comfort the sorrowful. In an Epistle to 
 Friends, dated from Bury Common Gaol, he writes : 
 *'And the Lord comfort the mourning ones among 
 you, that those that have lain moiirning in the pits of 
 distrust, fears, doubtings, carnal reasonings, may mount 
 over all upon the wings of Faith, and flow to the good- 
 ness of the Lord, and eat of His house, and drink of 
 the river of His pleasures, and be satisfied ; and 
 bless, praise, and magnify the Lord in the land of the 
 living.'' Gough writes : '* He was carried forth in 
 meetings in more than ordinary manner, and was 
 a blessed instrument to many, in turning them to 
 God." 
 
 At Charfield, near Woodbridge, George Whitehead 
 had a remarkable meeting in an orchard, with a 
 slippery stool for his pulpit ; a very large and varied 
 concourse had surrounded him, amongst whom, he 
 believed, were not a few true seekers after God. 
 Whilst the people were eagerly waiting for his words, 
 he was waiting upon the Lord, " for His power to 
 arise ; " nor did he wait in vain. Wonderful ability 
 w^as given him *'to preach the everlasting Gospel, 
 in the Name and Power of our Lord Jesus Christ," 
 for the space of nearly five hours. And the truths 
 
GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 437 
 
 declared found an entrance into many hearts as an 
 effectual message from the Lord. Whilst George 
 Whitehead was speaking, a Baptist preacher ex- 
 pressed disaproval of the views held by Friends with 
 respect to the ordinances. " I gave answer to him 
 in the spirit of meekness," says George Whitehead, 
 " being called into a spiritual ministry in order to 
 bring people out of shadows to the substance ; . . . . 
 nor to rest only in a literal knowledge of ChrivSt, but 
 that they might know Him livingly and inwardly after 
 the Spirit.'' The Baptist soon ceased to argue, and 
 so deep was the impression made on his mind, that 
 after a while, he exchanged his position as the teacher 
 of a Baptist congregation for that of a learner of the 
 Lord in a Friends' meeting : joining the Society, he / 
 became in later years an earnest minister, striving to^ 
 bring his hearers to a true knowledge of Christ and 
 His spiritual baptism. In both Norfolk and Suffolk 
 many meetings were before long established. 
 
 Whilst at Colchester, George Whitehead visited 
 James Parnel, who was imprisoned in the castle, and 
 who, although younger than his friend, had preached 
 the Gospel to thousands in that town, fearlessly 
 shaking the sandy foundation on which too many 
 were standing. " Profession and talk of religion and 
 Church, [writes George Whitehead], did greatly 
 abound in those days; . . . summer shows of religion - 
 which would not endure a stormy winter." James 
 Parnel was comforted by his visit, and then the two 
 young men, both under twenty years of age, parted 
 probably not to meet again on earth ; the one soon 
 to obtain a martyr's crown ; the other to labour on 
 
43^ GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 
 
 for nearly seventy years more, glorifying God alike 
 in willing service and patient suffering ; yet each led 
 by a right way to a city of habitation, — that way in 
 which, whether long or short, rough or smooth, the 
 sons of God* would elect to walk, because, whether 
 fully realising the comfort of His presence or not, 
 they know that He is ever with them there. 
 
 At Bures, George Whitehead and a Friend named 
 John Harwood, who was then travelling with him, 
 were arrested and taken before a justice of the peace. 
 Although quite unable to charge them with breaking 
 the law, he committed them to the gaol at Bury St. 
 Edmund's, there for a period of two or three months 
 to await the sessions, at which they were tried as 
 common disturbers of the peace. This judge was 
 himself their accuser, in spite of his position on the 
 bench, and found it expedient to threaten the gaoler 
 with a fine of forty shillings if he did not silence the 
 prisoners should they speak in self-defence. An ac- 
 commodating jury brought in a verdict of Guilty, and 
 a fine of twenty nobles each was imposed on the 
 Friends. This they refused to pay, on the ground 
 that such payment would imply an acknowledgment 
 of 'guilt ; so they were sent back to prison, where, 
 with som.e other Friends, they suffered cruelly during 
 a year's captivity. They were released by an order 
 from Oliver Cromwell, to whom application had been 
 made, especially by a gentlewoman of his household. 
 This lady had been convinced of the principles of 
 
 * •' Son of God, applied to a Christian, signifies one born of God, 
 in the deepest relation to Him, and hence a partaker of His nature." 
 —Alford. 
 
GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 439 
 
 Friends during Francis Howgill's visit to the Pro- 
 tector, and had afterwards joined the Society. '' The 
 place was sanctified to us," says George Whitehead, 
 after stating that they were confined with felons in 
 the common ward which bore a close resemblance to 
 a noisome dungeon. Here they were kicked and 
 wounded by one of their drunken companions, who 
 took advantage of the fact that they would not re- 
 taliate, although so well fitted by youthful strength 
 and spirit to do so. But, George Whitehead writes 
 — *' We esteemed it greater valour, and more Chris- 
 tian, patiently to suffer such injuries for Christ, than 
 to fight for Him or avenge ourselves " ; a triumph of 
 grace greater than the taking of a city. So vio- 
 lently were they often struck by some of their fellow- 
 prisoners, or by the gaoler, that the blood gushed 
 from their mouths and noses; and once the latter con- 
 fined them for nearly four hours in a dark and loath- 
 some dungeon, where, as was often their wont, they 
 sang praises to the Lord, "in the sweet enjoyment and 
 living sense of His glorious presence." During this 
 long imprisonment their health did not materially 
 suffer. " The Lord by His power," writes George 
 Whitehead, " so sanctified the confinement to me, 
 that I had great peace, comfort, and sweet solace ; 
 and was sometimes transported and wrapt up in 
 spirit as if in a pleasant field, having the fragrant 
 scent and sweet smell of flowers and things growing 
 therein : though I was not in an ecstasy or trance, 
 my senses being affected therewith." The con- 
 solation freely and graciously granted in that time of 
 ^eat need could never have been forgotten ; and was 
 
 x/ 
 
\ 
 
 440 GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 
 
 perhaps given him not only for present aid, but also 
 as a guarantee of sufficient grace for every future 
 exigency. 
 
 A sharp ordeal was near at hand. After " very 
 good service " in London, Essex, &c., George White- 
 head appointed a meeting at the house of a Friend 
 who lived at Nayland, in Suffolk, and who, before 
 the meeting began, came to him weeping with the 
 news that some vicious men of that town threatened 
 to kill him if he carried out his intention. They 
 would probably have been greatly astonished had 
 they seen the calmness with which he received this 
 menace ; for his was a courage which, being be- 
 stowed by Christ, could only be comprehended by 
 those who were acquainted with its source. " I 
 pitied the man," he writes, " and told him I did not 
 fear them, and would not disappoint the meeting."^ 
 But, for fear lest the house should be pulled down, 
 the large congregation adjourned to a meadow, where 
 they remained for nearly three hours, and George 
 Whitehead " had a good and full opportunity to 
 declare and demonstrate the living Truth with 
 power and dominion given of God, whose Power 
 was over all." 
 
 When holding another meeting at Nayland, a 
 few weeks later, George Whitehead was violently 
 arrested and taken — as he says — to his " old adver- 
 sary," the justice who had previously acted with 
 such extreme unfairness. Whilst waiting in his hall 
 George Whitehead silently prayed that, if it were in 
 accordance with the will of God, he might not un- 
 dergo another imprisonment in the gaol at Bury 
 
GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 44I 
 
 St. Edmunds ; this prayer was answered, and the 
 belief given him, that it was not by loss of liberty, but 
 by stripes, that he was now to suffer. His comment 
 on this is an illustration of what has been called, 
 "the marvellousness and utter unnaturalness of the 
 new creature." " Whereupon I was greatly refreshed, 
 strengthened, and given up in the will of the Lord 
 patiently to endure that punishment. ... it being 
 for Christ's sake, and His gospel truth ; wherein I 
 had great peace and strong consolation in Him." A 
 warrant was drawn up sentencing him to be openly 
 whipped on the following day " till his body be 
 bloody." That night, lodging at a public-house, he 
 " rested quietly in much peace." He bore the 
 punishment, *' by the Lord's power," not only with 
 patience, but with praise and rejoicing, although it 
 was inflicted with such severity as to make some of 
 the numerous bystanders weep, whilst others cried 
 out to the constable to desist. As might be expected, 
 the people of that district afterwards flocked together \J 
 to hear him ; the hearts of many were effectually 
 reached, and the truths which he was commissioned 
 to preach were more widely sown ; so that, to quote 
 his own words, " the dark wrath of man turned to 
 the praise of God." He found himself especially 
 called to labour in that part of the country which 
 had been the scene of his cruel persecution, and did 
 so unmoved by threats of branding and hanging. 
 His visits also to some of the Midland counties were 
 attended with blessed effects ; for he writes : " The 
 Word of Life being plenteously in my heart and 
 ministry, enabled me by His power largely to preach, 
 
442 GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 
 
 .and greatly assisted me in the defence of the Gospel 
 of our blessed Lord Jesus Christ." 
 
 In the midst of these labours he was laid low by a 
 dangerous fever; but one night when it was at its 
 height, he was revived by the clear sense given him, 
 that the Lord would raise him up to continue to labour 
 for Him. When, after an absence of three years, he 
 \ re-entered his father's house, he was received as one 
 ^.restored from death, for tidings of his hardships and 
 .sufferings had reached his distant home. The bitter 
 prejudice against Friends with which his parents' 
 liearts had been filled by the clergy had altogether 
 passed away, and George Whitehead did not doubt 
 that the Lord had secretly pleaded his cause. The 
 storms he had encountered, were now exchanged for 
 a restful season spent in visits to several northern 
 meetings, where he was warmly welcomed by 
 Friends in whom — he says: "The first love was 
 fresh and lively, and was retained to the end of 
 their days." But soon the eastern counties again 
 attracted him, where, as it proved, an imprison- 
 ment of sixteen weeks in Ipswich Goal was in store 
 for him. 
 
 " During the years 1658 and 1659, Googe Whitehead 
 was engaged in many public religious disputations, in 
 consequence of the utterly erroneous ideas current 
 concerning the views of Friends, and which were the 
 more readily accepted from the fact that many of the 
 clergy denounced the Quakers from their pulpits. A 
 ■detailed account of these discussions might not be of 
 general interest, but perhaps a few extracts from the 
 voluminous writings of George Whitehead may be 
 
GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 443 
 
 suitably substituted, many of these being of a contro- 
 versial character : — 
 
 " He who was as a Lamb slain from the foundation of 
 the world, and by the grace of God tasted death for every 
 man, ever liveth to make intercession for man according 
 to the will of God. . . . His being given as our Medi- 
 ator between God and men, and His giving Himself 
 a ransom for all men, a testimony in due time, and His 
 tasting death for every man — did all proceed from the 
 great love of God, and not to pay a strict or rigid satis- 
 faction for vindictive justice or revenge on God's part. 
 . . . Surely that righteousness and forbearance of God, 
 declared by the propitiatory sacrifice of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ for the remission or forgiveness of sins that are 
 past, upon true repentence, cannot justly be deemed 
 revenge or vindictive justice, as some have asserted 
 against us. . . . Oh ! Behold the Lamb of God which 
 taketh away the sin of the world, ist. As an universal 
 and most excellent offering, and acceptable sacrifice for 
 sin, in order to obtain redemption and forgiveness by 
 His precious^ blood, &c. 2nd. Jesus Christ as the Lamb 
 of God takes away the sin of tlie world, by purging the 
 conscience and purifying the hearts of all them who truly 
 receive Him and believe in Him, even in His Holy Name 
 and Divine Power. . . . He never designed to leave 
 men in sin and transgression all their days, but to afford 
 all men grace to lead them to true repentance, that they 
 might receive that remission, forgiveness, atonement and 
 reconciliation, obtained for them. . . . The Holy Ghost 
 takes and shows unto us the most excellent properties of 
 our great and glorious Mediator — His great universal 
 love, meekness, humility and compassion, that we may 
 by degrees partake thereof, as we truly obey and follow 
 Him in the manifestation of the same Holy Spirit, 
 whereby the mystery of Christ is revealed in and unto 
 the truly spiritually-minded believers." 
 
 Inoneof these discussions he maintained that "the 
 grace of God, in and through Jesust Christ, was suffi- 
 
444 GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 
 
 cient for the blessed attainment of perfect sanctifica- 
 tion, perseverance in grace, and abiding in Christ."* 
 But although George Whitehead and some of his bre- 
 thren thought it good to engage in these arguments at 
 times, it was more frequently their wont, as Samuel 
 Tuke remarks, *' to press upon men to look more to 
 the genuine fruits of the Spirit, as the tests of their 
 Christianity, than to any form of words, or any expla- 
 natioji of Divine truth which human wisdom had been 
 able to proposed 
 
 The issue of the proclamation against conventicles, 
 soon after the accession of Charlps II., caused a 
 renewal of attacks on Friends with more tangible 
 and formidable weapons than words frorn pulpit or 
 platform. One day, when George Whitehead was 
 travelling alone on the highway, he besought the 
 Lord, with deep feeling and fervour, to plead the 
 cause of His people ; and an assurance was given 
 him that the evil schemes of the persecutors should 
 be finally frustrated, and that God would defend, and 
 in due time deliver, His suffering children. "Yea, 
 and much more of the same tendency, [he writes,] 
 has the Lord livingly signified and revealed to me by 
 His Holy Spirit, even in times of deep suffering." 
 
 About this time (the winter of 1660-1) George 
 
 * " The question what attainments we have made, lies wholly 
 between our consciences and our God. The question what are our 
 revealed privileges is to be settled, not by an appeal to the con- 
 scious or visible attainments of any individual or class of individuals, 
 but ... by reference to the law and to the testimony. The Spirit of 
 the Lord does know, and He alone can know, what ' things are pos- 
 sible with God ' on the one hand, and what 'things are possible to 
 him that believeth ' on the other." — Out of Darkness into Light ; " 
 by Dr. Asa Mahan, p. 357. 
 
GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 445 
 
 Whitehead, and his friends William Barber and John 
 Lawrence, who have been already mentioned, were 
 arrested at a meeting at Pulham-Mary, in Norfolk ; 
 the quiet assembly was violently disturbed by a con- 
 stable, who, although without a warrant, was attended 
 by a company of horsemen and footmen, apparently 
 of an irregular kind, for in addition to halberts, 
 swords and pistols, they were armed with pitchforks, 
 hedgestakes, and clubs. They dragged several Friends 
 out of the meeting, who were on the following day 
 committed to Norwich Castle, which, like many other 
 prisons throughout the land, now contained a large 
 number of Friends. The lodging-place of George 
 Whitehead and his companions was a narrow cell 
 roofed by an old stone arch, through which the rain 
 freely penetrated ; and when, in order to warm them- 
 selves during the cold winter evenings, they burnt a 
 little charcoal, the absence of a chimney caused it to 
 be — as George Whitehead patiently puts it — " some- 
 what injurious and suffocating." On his part, he 
 was struck with the manner in which his two asso- 
 ciates, who had formerly been captains in the army,"^ 
 now passively and patiently suffered for the cause of 
 Christ. The Friends held many " comfortable meet- 
 ings" in the prison, which were sometimes attended 
 by several persons from without. 
 
 After a while, George \Vhitehead became so ill 
 of ague and fever, that some of his friends thought he 
 would die in prison ; but, as the time for holding the 
 spring assizes at Thetford approached, he believed that 
 he should be strengthened to ride the twenty miles 
 which separate that place from Norwich. Soon after 
 
446 GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 
 
 his arrival at Thetford, an elderly Friend told him 
 with tears of the terrible threats to Dissenters which 
 the judge had made use of in his charge ; but, with his 
 unfailing faith, George Whitehead tried to raise her 
 spirits, by saying, that the Lord would stand by 
 them, and that he hoped no Friends would be cast 
 down, but that they would be faithful to God and 
 valiant for the Truth. This was no mere precept, 
 but what he was enabled to practise fully himself; 
 and according to his faith was it unto him, for he 
 writes of feeling the Lord's power over all, and of 
 how his fellow-prisoners and himself were kept in 
 great peace throughout the trial ; and when, as he 
 had anticipated, he was sent back to Norwich Castle 
 with several others who were thought to be "the most 
 eminent among the Quakers," he cheerfully resumed 
 his bonds, and felt deep gratitude for the restoration 
 of his health, which the purer air and change of 
 scene had probably been the means of effecting. 
 
 As might be expected, the strong faith granted to 
 himself enabled him to sympathise with those in whom 
 it was less fully developed ; and whilst in Thetford 
 prison during the assizes his heart was drawn out in 
 loving interest towards an elderly Friend who was 
 also confined there. This gentleman, who had been 
 the mayor of that town and a justice of the peace, 
 when walking one day with George Whitehead in the 
 prison yard, told him of how he was harassed by the 
 urgency with which his relatives pressed him to take 
 the Oath of Allegiance, in order to save his family and 
 himself from ruin ; he also confessed that his own 
 faltering faith had made this trial harder to bear. 
 
GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 447 
 
 Yet he added, " I have considered Christ's words, * No 
 man having put his hand to the plough, and looking 
 backj is fit for the kingdom of God.' " Choosing 
 inward peace rather than outward ease, he was, 
 although in direct violation of Magna Charta, re- 
 moved from his own corporation to Norwich, to share 
 the imprisonment of the Friends confined in the 
 county gaol. But all the pains taken by his prose- 
 cutors to bring him under the penalty of a praemunire 
 were unavailing, for at the termination of sixteen 
 weeks the prisoners were released, in consequence of 
 the king's " Proclamation of Grace." , , 
 
 About this time more than 4,200 Friends of both ^ 
 sexes were imprisoned in the various parts of England yj 
 for attendance at their meetings, or for refusal to take 
 any oath. Often cruelly beaten, sometimes confined 
 in detestable dungeons, or so closely crowded together 
 that all could not sit down at one time ; exposed to 
 severe cold, and, in many cases, deprived of some of 
 their clothing ; kept without food for several succes- 
 sive days, and obliged, for lack of straw, to lie on the 
 cold ground— it would have been strange if many had 
 not died. The meetings in London were frequently 
 dispersed with violence ; and on one such occasion, 
 George Whitehead and his '' beloved brethren," 
 Richard Hubberthorn, and Edward Burrough, were 
 taken to Newgate, where the two former shared a 
 small pallet-bed, in a stiflingly close cell. They might 
 have had somewhat better accommodation, notwith- 
 standing the crowded state of the prison, but chose 
 this lodging-place out of consideration for the poorer v' 
 Friends who slept in the same part of the gaol. A 
 
44^ GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 
 
 violent fever, the natural result of over-crowding in 
 very warm summer weather, soon ended the sufferings 
 of some of the prisoners ; and Richard Hubberthorn 
 and Edward Burrough were amongst the number. 
 George Whitehead was twice imprisoned in 1664 for 
 the offence of worshipping in " other manner than is 
 
 >ls allowed by the Liturgy of the Church of England ; " 
 ■although even this was perhaps scarcely proved 
 against him ; for at a trial of some similar case we 
 
 V. find one of the jurymen saying: " My lord, I have 
 that venerable respect for the Liturgy of the Church 
 •of England as to believe it is according to the Scrip- 
 tures, which allow of the worship of God in spirit ; 
 and therefore I conclude to worship God in spirit is 
 not contrary to the Liturgy ; if it be, I shall abate of 
 my respect for it." 
 
 During the Plague, although George Whitehead 
 was, as one can easily imagine, borne up "in living 
 faith, and true and fervent love, above the fear of 
 death," his heart — the more keenly susceptible of 
 sanctified human affection because of its abiding in 
 Divine love — was deeply moved, even to " great suf- 
 fering and travail of spirit, with earnest prayer," on 
 behalf of his stricken brethren ; and he visited them 
 alike in their own houses and in the prisons where 
 their persecutors still detained them. Although he 
 had been previously engaged in visiting meetings in 
 the country, he felt that the Lord had work for him 
 in London in this season of sore distress, and accord- 
 ingly took up his abode at the house of a tobacconist 
 in Watling Street. Sympathising with those who 
 •did not altogether share his own vigorous faith, he 
 
GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 449 
 
 addressed two epistles to Friends, in which the fol- 
 lowing remarks occur : — 
 
 *' Retire to Him who is a sure Hiding Place to the 
 upright in the day of calamity, and the hour of temp- 
 tation ; in Him you will witness plenteous redemption, 
 and the refreshments of His life over all the troubles and 
 sufferings of the present time, and over all the fears and 
 doubtings which thereupon would beset any of you either 
 inwardly or outwardly. . . . And live in the immortal 
 seed and spiritual communion where life and peace is 
 daily received, and your mutual refreshment and con- 
 solation stands, and wherein the spirits of the just are 
 seen and felt ; even in this spiritual cominimion which 
 reaches beyond all visibles, aiid is above all mortal and 
 fading thi?igs.'' 
 
 And these are the words of no dreamy mystic, 
 but the experimental testimony of a man who was 
 spending his youthful vigour in active service for his 
 Lord. 
 
 The meetings held at the Meeting-house built at 
 White Hart Court, after the great fire, were often 
 broken up with violence, and many of those who 
 attended them taken before the mayor. On such 
 occasions George Whitehead usually chose imprison- 
 ment rather than the alternative of freedom on con- 
 dition not only of a promise to appear at the next 
 sessions, but also *' in the meantime to be of the good 
 behaviour ;" for he knew that the public worship of 
 God with his brethren would be held as a breach of 
 this, and had far greater fear of a shackled soul than 
 of a fettered body. 
 
 The general cause of religious liberty was zea- 
 lously advocated by George Whitehead, in the reigns 
 of Charles II., James XL, William and Mary, Anne, 
 
 2 G 
 
^ 
 
 450 GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 
 
 George I., and George II. ; and, in a preface to his- 
 life, Samuel Tuke expresses the belief that he was in 
 a *' considerable degree instrumental in obtaining 
 those civil and religious privileges now enjoyed by 
 the Society of Friends." In 1672 he succeeded in pro- 
 curing from the king, the liberation of more than 
 400 Friends, some of whom had spent ten or eleven 
 years in prison. The King's Letters Patent under 
 the Great Seal, containing the names of the 400 
 prisoners eleven times repeated, was a very bulky 
 document on eleven skins of vellum ; * and in these 
 days of steam and electricity we can hardly enter 
 into the difficulties which George Whitehead and his 
 friends encountered in promptly conveying this man- 
 ^ date to numerous prisons in England and Wales. 
 "^ With strength already worn down by his lengthened 
 labours in obtaining this *' pardon," George White- 
 head now went on horseback, with two other Friends, 
 into Essex, Suffolk, Norfolk, Huntingdon, Cambridge, 
 and Hertford, and in a fortnight's time the "Patent'* 
 \ they carried with them — an unwieldy bundle in a 
 ^ leathern case and tin box — had accomplished its 
 work in those counties. Two duplicates which George 
 Whitehead had obtained of the original document 
 were sent by messengers to five other counties. His 
 greatest perplexity was, however, with regard to the 
 speedy release of the Friends confined in "prisons so 
 remote " as those in Wales, and in the north and 
 
 \ 
 
 * John Bunyan who, from his misapprehension of their views, 
 had bitterly decried Friends, was now released from his twelve 
 years' imprisonment in Bedford Gaol, in consequence of the inclu- 
 sion of his name with that of a few other Dissenters in the royal 
 patent. 
 
GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 45I 
 
 "west of England; and which the approach of winter 
 made him very solicitous to effect, as longer confine- 
 ment might well cause the death of some of the cap- 
 tives. Sir Matthew Hale, to whom, as Lord Chief 
 Justice, he appealed for aid, gave full and kind 
 attention to the subject, saying that if the prisoners 
 would remove themselves by Habeas Corpus and 
 come before him, he would liberate them on the 
 king's pardon. But their health was too seriously 
 impaired for them to undertake the long journey to 
 London without hazarding their lives, even had they 
 not been too much impoverished to do so. The plan 
 iinally adopted by George "Whitehead and Ellis 
 Hooks, was that of showing the king's patent to the 
 funder sheriffs from the counties in question, when 
 they came to town at the Michaelmas term, and 
 obtaining " liberates " from them to be sent to the 
 various gdols. 
 
 In 1680, George Whitehead and Thomas Burr, a 
 fellow-minister, were arrested whilst the former was 
 preaching in the Friends' meeting at Norwich, and 
 confined in the gaol. Their defence at the next 
 quarter-sessions was a very spirited one. The Re- 
 •corder had said : ** There is a law, and the Church 
 of England will never be quiet till some of you be 
 hanged by that law ; " and we find George White- 
 head afterwards winding up a remonstrance with the 
 words : " Let us have a fair hearing and trial : let 
 us be tried before we are hanged ! " And again : 
 " I beg of the court, for God's sake and the king's 
 sake, to be heard fairly without being thus run upon. 
 It is preposterous to run us upon the oath in the 
 
 k/ 
 
452 GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 
 
 first place, we being not committed for that but for 
 other causes." Being sent back to prison George 
 Whitehead and his companions wrote to the mayor 
 and aldermen ; but, although their trial was voted 
 out of place by the common council, and the Earl of 
 Yarmouth and other gentlemen exerted themselves 
 on their behalf, they were not liberated until the 
 time of the ensuing regular sessions. 
 
 In the winter of 1680-1, George Whitehead, with 
 several other Friends, attended the committee on the 
 bill for exempting Dissenters from the penalties of 
 certain laws. He was particularly struck by the 
 comments made by Sir Charles Musgrove, who, 
 although a zealous supporter of the Church, openly 
 spoke of "the shame and scandal" which rested on 
 it in connection with the cruel persecution of Friends. 
 In the two following years George Whitehead was 
 four times convicted under the Conventicle Act ; on 
 one of these occasions he was fined ^40 without 
 being given the opportunity of vindicating himself. 
 The distraint was made by a constable and two 
 assistants, who seized every bed in the house and a 
 variety of other valuable furniture, as well as shop 
 wares ; and when two of his friends begged that the 
 goods might be appraised before being carried away, 
 the constable arrested them, stating on oath that 
 they were guilty of riot ; in consequence of this they 
 were committed to Newgate for ten weeks. George 
 Whitehead obtained a reversal of the magistrate's 
 sentence, yet only ^11 was returned to him, although 
 the articles distrained were worth three times that 
 amount. 
 
GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 453 
 
 During the severe persecution in 1683, George 
 Whitehead and his friend Gilbert Latey perseveringly 
 and successfully exerted themselves on behalf of a 
 large number of Friends imprisoned at Norwich, and 
 who — as George Whitehead told King Charles — were 
 *' like to be buried alive in holes and dungeons." In 
 this year, notwithstanding a three months' frost of . 
 such severity that the Thames was used as a street, 
 the Friends, still shut out from their own meeting- \/ 
 houses, held their meetings in the intense cold of the 
 open air ; displaying that unshaken firmness which 
 can, perhaps, be only manifested in a good or an evil 
 cause, by those who are aided by God in the one 
 case, or stimulated by Satan in the other. Comfort 
 came to them in their silent waiting on the Lord, 
 and they gladly made use of any opening for street 
 preaching, though often as soon as a sentence or 
 two had been spoken the minister would be forcibly 
 dragged away. 
 
 Truly it was a season for glorifying God by strong 
 faith in Him, and George Whitehead did not fail to 
 use it as such. ** In those days I clearly saw," he 
 writes, " that the testimony required of us to bear, 
 was not so much in words, declaration, or ministry, 
 as to stand our ground in faith and patience, and to 
 travail in spirit with secret breathing and earnest 
 supplication unto God. It was often then before me 
 that the Lamb and His faithful followers should have 
 the victory, which was matter of secret comfort to 
 me many times : glory be to His name for ever ! " 
 And he was right. Those down-trodden Quakers, a 
 scorn and a bye-word, were winning a conquest little 
 
 2 G 2 
 
454 GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 
 
 dreamt of by their mocking persecutors, and wholly 
 beyond their ken. What could they conceive of a 
 spirit which "takes its kingdom with entreaty, and 
 not with contention ? " for as in the natural, so in the 
 spiritual world, vision avails nothing without light ; 
 and evil-doers hate and shun that light, in the ever- 
 increasing brightness of which the pure in heart press 
 forwards, on the new and living way, seeing more and 
 more of God, and of those things which He has pre- 
 pared for them that love Him, and will reveal to them 
 by His Spirit. 
 
 On the accession of James II., George Whitehead^ 
 Gilbert Latey, and Alexander Parker,"^^ presented him 
 with a petition on behalf of the 1,460 Friends then 
 lying in prison, " only for tender conscience towards 
 Almighty God." The petitioners stated that some- 
 hundreds had died in consequence of long captivity,, 
 and alluded to " the woful spoil made by merciless 
 informers, «&c., all tending to the ruin of trade^ 
 husbandry, and industrious families ; to some not a 
 bed left ; to others, no cattle to till their ground or 
 give them milk, nor corn for bread and seed ; nor 
 tools to work withal." Three or four months later, 
 after a renewed appeal, James gave a general warrant 
 for the release of the prisoners, some of whom had 
 been in bonds for periods of ten, twelve, or fifteen 
 years. 
 
 * Gough writes of Alexander Parker as " being one in the number 
 of the worthies of this age, who were given up to the service of their 
 Maker, and the promoting of pure religion, and the practice of piety 
 in the nation — as the principal purpose of their lives ; " — and also 
 states that he was " well-educated, and had a gentleman-like carriage 
 and deportment as'well as person." 
 
GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 45^ 
 
 A wonderful relief it must also have been to the 
 Friends of those days when *' Informers " were sup- 
 pressed, in consequence of George Whitehead's appli- 
 cation for a commission to inquire into their fraudu- 
 lent practices — for he likens them to " beasts of prey, 
 lurking, creeping, and skulking about in most parts 
 of the nation " where meetings were held. His 
 friends, hearing of the informers' furious threats con- 
 cerning him, were afraid lest they should carry them 
 into execution : but for himself he told the informers 
 that he feared them not : that he was bound in 
 conscience to acquaint the Government with their 
 barbarities, and that no menaces of theirs would 
 hinder him from so doing. One of their leaders, 
 who had caused George Whitehead severe suffer- 
 ing, showed his faith in the reality of the religion 
 which it had been his trade to assault, by apply- 
 ing to him for assistance with regard to cloth- 
 ing, before entering the establishment of a gentle- 
 man who had engaged him as his servant. This 
 was, of course, a too-favourable opportunity of 
 returning good for evil for George Whitehead to 
 lose. 
 
 George Whitehead was twice married, and each 
 union was a happy one ; his second marriage — with 
 a widow named Ann Greenwell — took place in 1688. 
 Her maiden name was Downer, and Sewel writes of 
 her, when she was about the age of thirty, as '* the 
 first among women in this Society that preached at 
 London publicly." In 1656, when George Fox and 
 two other Friends were confined in Launceston Gaol, 
 they asked her to come to them, to buy and dress 
 
45^ GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 
 
 their meat, and to write for them in shorthand.* 
 She performed this journey of two hundred miles on 
 foot, and, both in going and returning, her ministerial 
 labours were much blessed. Gough describes her as 
 being " an extraordinary woman, helpful to many, 
 tender to all, ready to communicate, laying out her- 
 self for the good of others." The evening before she 
 died she said to her husband : " The Lord is with 
 me, I bless His name. I am well. It may be you 
 are afraid I shall be taken away, and if it be, the will 
 of the Lord be done. Do not trouble yourselves nor 
 make any great ado about me. But, my dear, go to 
 bed, go to rest ; and if I should speak no more words 
 to thee, thou knowest the everlasting love of God ! " 
 In the early part of the reign of William III. 
 George Whitehead's heart was gladdened by the dis- 
 covery that many high in office had at last opened 
 their eyes wide enough to see that the granting of 
 liberty of conscience was not only an imperative 
 Christian duty, but also an essential element of the 
 well-being of the Government and nation. He was 
 struck by the remark of a conspicuous member of the 
 Church of England : " Neither we nor you are safe 
 *^ without toleration." George Whitehead took an 
 
 * It was during this imprisonment that George Fox was placed in 
 a fearfully loathsome dungeon where many he was told had died, 
 and also that it was haunted by spirits. But George Fox had too 
 long made use of the believer's privilege of losing mortal weakness in 
 " the exceeding greatness of God's power," to be daunted now. " If 
 all the spirits and devils in hell are there " — was his reply — " I am 
 over them in the power of God^ and fear no such thing. For Christ, 
 our Priest, will sanctify the walls and the house to us. He who 
 bruised the head of the devil, .... Who sanctifies — both inwardly 
 and outwardly — the walls of the house, the walls of the heart, and 
 all things to his people." 
 
GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 457 
 
 active part in the earnest exertions to which Friends 
 were incited by their great anxiety that the Act of 
 Toleration should be made an effectual measure. And 
 in a very satisfactory interview with the king we 
 learn that he spoke to him on "divers weighty 
 matters," finding an attentive and serious listener. 
 George Whitehead told him that it was true that 
 Friends had " of late been aspersed and misrepre- 
 sented with such nicknames as Meadites and Pcj^itcSf 
 as if we set up sect-masters ; yet we own no such 
 thing; but Christ Jesus to be our only Master as we 
 are a Christian society and people." 
 
 In concluding " Christian Progress " (his auto- 
 biography), George Whitehead remarks, " Manifold 
 exercises, trials, and tribulations, hath the Lord my 
 God supported me under, and carried me through, in 
 my pilgrimage for His Name and Truth's sake, more 
 than could 'possibly be related in this history ; having 
 spent a long time, even the greatest part of my life 
 from my youth upward, in the testimony, service, and 
 vindication of the living unchangeable truth as it is in 
 Christ Jesus my Lord." A lively address to his 
 friends, written in his eighty-sixth year, was printed 
 and circulated amongst them. He is described as 
 being a tender father in the Church, and, as such, of 
 great compassion, sympathising with Friends under 
 affliction, whether in body or mind. In his last ill- 
 ness he patiently awaited the summons, " Come up 
 higher," to the unveiled glory of that presence which, 
 by faith, had been for so long a time the strength 
 and joy of his soul. He died at the beginning of 
 the year 1722, at the age of eighty-seven, and was 
 
458 GEORGE WHITEHEAD. 
 
 interred in the Friends' Burial-ground, at Bunhill 
 Fields. 
 
 "One of the finest sayings in the language" — 
 writes Charles Buxton — "is John Foster's ^ Live 
 mightily,'' " And George Whitehead had learnt the 
 .secret of doing this ; a secret revealed not alone to 
 those who, in " obeying the ideal of life " set before 
 them,* conspicuously glorify God, but also to the 
 humblest followers of Christ, in obscurest corners of 
 the world, who cleave to their Lord with that living 
 Jaith which of necessity bears the fruit of faith- 
 fulness : — "iVo^ hy might, nor by power, hut by my Spirit 
 saith the Lord.'' 
 
 * Of Edward Denison, Canon Liddon writes : — " He, too, had 
 assed through a momentary indecision, whether he would or would 
 not ' obey the ideal of life which had come before him.' " How many 
 besides the young man who went away sorrowful from his loving 
 Lord lose inconceivably for lack of willingness to accept Christ's 
 proffered vocation ! Doubtless it might lead them in a narrower path 
 than their self-chosen one; yet, even when roughest and steepest, it 
 could not lie far away from " the still waters " of His peace, and " the 
 .green pastures " of His love, 
 
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