Book ' L S
I ^^3
GLEANINGS
— AT^
SEVENTY-FIVE.
— BY
SUSAN iluKENS.
PHILADELPHIA : HENRY LONGSTRETH, 138 SANSOM STREET.
1883.
V.
PREFACE.
One who was accounted wise — was literary and scien- tific— said that when a man reached the age of seventy, his time for active usefulness was past, he should he laid on the shelf. (By the way, he did not act in accordance with that opinion, continuing his literary labors, &c., until many years past that age.) But if any agree with his early assertion, what will they thhik of one in her seventy-sixth year entering on an untried path ?
The reasons — a collection of articles from various sources was interesting to myself and my friends. The latter often urged their publication. For some I copied portions, but could not supply all, and at length I con- sented to glean from the whole a comparatively small number of articles for publication.
When this was nearly accomplished came many re- quests to add some of the poetical pieces I had written long since, most of which were published in sundry
Vlil PREFACE.
periodicals about the time they are dated. I had never previously thought of reprinting them ; yet here are a few which I venture to put forth, with a hope that the contents of the book may cause no regret to its readers,
or to the gleaner,
Susan Lukens. Eecildoun,
nth month, 1872,
[Since the materials for this publication were prepared for the press, the author, Susan Lukens, has been taken away by death ; having, after a brief illness, peacefully deceased at her residence, at Ercildoun, near Coatesvillle, Pennsylvania, on the First day of the First month, 1873, aged seventy -six years within a few days.] *"' £
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
Robert Barrow's Shipwreck, &c., . . . . . 13
Narrative of John Leifehild, 24
James Simpson, 25
Dream of Oliver Paxson, 36
Abel Haughton, 37
Account of Two Friends in Scotland, .... 39
William Tuchold, 40
Dr. Payson, 42
William Crotch, 43
Duke of Wellington on Victories, ..... 46
Anecdote of a Bishop of London, 46
William Blakey, 47
An Early Marriage Certificate, 49
Extract from Memoirs of William Bramwell, ... 49
Extract from Memoirs of Thomas Scattergood, . . 51
Total Abstinence, 53
Samuel Fothergill, ,54
Drowsiness, 56
John Bunyan, . . 57
Matthew Warren, 58
A Dream- Warning, 58
Silent Kebuke, 63
Clarke Stevens, 65
Deborah Morris's Will, 66
Anthony Benezet, . • 68
Hume, the Infidel, 68
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
PAGE
Thomas Waring, 70
George Whitefield, &c., 74
An Infidel's Death-Bed, 75
A. Murder Prevented, 76
Martha Routh, 79
Rowland Hill, 80
Indian Discourse at a Funeral, .•.,.. 83
An Indian Witness, 86
Mehetabel Jenkins, • . . . • ... 86
Caleb Pennock, « ........ 87
Extracts from Jacob Lindley's Journal, .... 91
A Raven in 1766, 92
A Student and Duke, 93
William Kirk and Wife, .^93
Abel Thomas, 95
Mary Ridgway and Jane Watson, . . . . . 95
Letter from Peter Yarnall, 97
Account respecting Nantucket, ...... 101
Account respecting Xantucket, by John Fothergill, . 102
A Dream of Mildred Ratcliffe, 104
John Woolman's First Service in England, . . . 106
Divine Guidance and Protection, 107
Plain Dress, &c., 113
Mary Dyer's Letter, 113
Account of Edward Wanton, 117
John Salkeld, 118
Preservation of a Family in Ireland, 119
Mary Griffin, 123
Comfort Collins, . . . ... . . .125
Anecdote of John Fletcher, 126
Letter from John Thorp, . . . . . . .128
Remarkable Narrative of David Sands, .... 129
Edward Foulke, 134
Joseph Lukens, ......... 144
Eleanor McC arty, 145
Value of Premonitions, ....... 146
A Minister of Berg, . 148
A Dream of Sarah Harrison's, ...... 148
TABLE OF CONTENTS. - XI
PAGE
Joseph Hemphiirs Rebuke to a Careless Professor, , . 150
Anecdote of Capt. William Gifford, 151
A Presentiment, . . . 152
An Indian's Shrewdness, . . , . ; . , • 153
Sensibility of an Indian, 154
POETICAL PIECES.
The Painter of Seville, . . . . . . .155
Death-Bed of a Slave-Taker, 161
Fragments, . , 163
Lines written in an Invalid's Chamber, . . . .167 Humility, . . , . .... . .168
Safety in Our Father's House, 169
Fugitives in Boston, . . . . . . . .170
Lines Written at Tunessassah, 175
A Fragment, 176
Retribution, 177
To My Father, 179
Lines on the Death of a Young Girl, .... 180
To an Aged Friend, .181
The Ground on which we stand, 182
Mother and Son, 183
A Mother's Prayer, 184
Death-Bed of a Slaveholder, 185
To S. B., on Idols, 188
Beer-L^hai-Roi, 189
Strive for the Right, 190
A Contrast, 192
On a Saying of Caleb Pennock's, 193
To S. L., 194
The Tempted, 195
Thanksgiving, 196
Stanzas, 197
Impromptu, 199
To , on a Place of Rest, 199
Household Treasures, 200
Xll TABLE OF CONTENTS.
PA<5E
Hymn, 201
Mary Dockstater, 202
*^ Mother, Pray for Me,"' 204
Living Water, 205
**FollowMe," 206
The Upper Chamber, 206
"Pray without Ceasing," 208
To , on Unbelief, 209
Biding the Storm, 210
Resignation, 211
The Christian's Path, 212
A Contrite Spirit, 213
Thirsting No More, . , 214
Hospitality, 215
I
GLEANINGS
SE VENT Y-FI YE.
EGBERT BARRGW.
Robert Barrow was born in Lancashire, England, but was removed in his infancy into the neighborhood of Kendal, in Westmoreland. He was convinced of the truth in 1652, soon after the first meetings of Friends were settled in that county ; and, as did many others, he often suffered from fines, distraint of goods, and long imprisonments.
About the year 1668, he received a gift in the ministr}'', and was a zealous laborer in the Gospel for twenty-six years. His wife was a daugliter of Christopher Bris- brown, who, for conscientiously refusing to pay tithes, was, at the age of seventy-seven, imprisoned and (even contrary to the law under which his persecutors pre- tended to act) kept in close confinement more than six- teen months, when he was released by deiitli.
Robert Barrow, on his death-bed (in Philadelphia), often spoke most affectionately of his wife. Gn one occa- sion he said: '' I married her for the truth's sake, — she was God's gift to me. When I left her, it was as if I was going to my grave. Neither gold nor silver, riches nor
2
14 GLKAWIKGS AT SEVEyTY-FIVB.
honor, should have parted us. — nothing but that I might be ol^dient to the Lord, and keep my peace with God.''
Notwithstanding the rarious fines collected from him, Robert Barrow had, by industry, accumulated an estate; and feeling himself called to more extensive travels for the truth's sake, he, about the year 1690. placed his prop- erty in the hands of his son, reserving therefrom an annuity sufficient for the comfortable maintenance of himself and family.
In the Eleventh month, 1690, he was in London ; and having attended many meetings with George Fox. he was with him during his short illness, imtil '• he sweetly fell asleep in the Lord," whose blessed truth he had livingly and powerfully preached in the meeting but two days before.
He travelled twice under a religious concern in Scot- land and Ireland : and in 1694 he believed it right to visit in gospel love the American continent and adjacent islands. He felt it a trial at his age to cross the ocean and travel in a foreign land, but above all to take probably a last farewell of the beloved companion of his life. In speaking of the expected diflSculties and dangers of his way, he remarked, that he had rather immediately lay down his natural life, if by so doing he could keep his peace with Grod, than go to America.
In London he met with Robert Wardell, another ancient minister who was under a simibr concern. There also were Samuel Jennings, and Thomas Duckett, of Phila- delphia, who, having been on religious service in England, were about returning home.
About the close of the year 1694, Robert Barrow and Rol»ert Wardell arrived in America and travelled through the various provinces, attending 32 S meetings in less than a vear.
HOBEUT BARROW. 15
Near the end of the year 1695, they passed over to the West India Islands, and after much service in Bermudas and Antigua, sailed to Jamaica, which they reached the 4th of the Second month, 1696. Although at this time these ancient Friends were both indisposed, they con- tinued diligent in their gospel labors for about two weeks. Robert Wardell then rapidly sank under the effect of the climate, and after four days' confinement, died on the 22d of the same month. He departed in great peace, which condition of mind appears to have been mercifully granted to him throughout his illness. To the woman Friend at whose house he lay, 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, how- ever, the will of God be done. I am, and was willing to be contented with the will of God, whether life or death, before I came hither ; and I bless God I am not afraid to die." He continued to the end giving pertinent exhorta- tions to those who came to visit him, concerning the education of their children, and the support of proper discipline in the church ; having a desire, as he told them, that Friends might walk answerable to God's love to them.
Robert Barrow remained on the island four months after the decease of his companion. He was very unwell all the time of his visit, but was enabled to attend every meeting as it came in course, except one. On the 23d of the Sixth month he embarked to return to Philadelphia. The other passengers were Jonathan Dickinson, wife, and infant son, and Benjamin Allen. On board were seven mariners, twelve negroes, and one Indian girl. They had calms for many days, loss of an anchor, and devia- tions from their proper course, caused by the master's fears of encountering the French fleet. On the 18th of Seventh month the master had his leg broken, and the
16 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
Indian girl died. A northeast storm set in on the 22d. which, early on the morning of the 23d, drove the vessel on the coast of Florida. The storm subsided towards daylight, and they found themselves on a beach of sand, which was left bare by every receding wave. There were Robert Barrow, an aged man, who had been sick more than five months ; the captain, whose leg had been recently broken ; Benjamin Allen, who had been very ill most of the voyage ; a delicate woman and sick child, besides several others.
They saw a countr}^ without trees, whose only vegeta- tion was the shrubby palmetto growing on the sand-hills. Under some of these bushes, which broke the violence of the wind, but gave no protection from the rain, they made a fire, and the invalids were placed around it. Most of the seamen and negroes were employed in carrying their chests and provisions on shore.
While thus employed, two Indians rapidh' approached them, foaming with their exertions in running, and having Spanish knives in their hands. They each seized one of the seamen and dragged him towards the group by the fire. Some of the crew would have killed the assailants, but Jonathan Dickinson persuaded them to ofi"er no re- sistance, and advised them to put their trust in the Lord. He then, whilst the Indians stood looking with wild and furious countenances on the invalids, offered them some pipes and tobacco, which they eagerly seized and de- parted rapidly as they came. The Friends knew the In- dians of Florida were accounted cannibals, and cruel usage and painful death appeared before them. But some of them were favored to seek after and obtain a portion of deep, quiet retirement of mind, in which they were given some hope, for which in secret they blessed the name of the Lord, in whom was their only trust.
Knowing that the Spanish nation had great influence
ROBERT BARROW. 17
over the Florida Indians, the greater part of the company agreed to endeavor to pass for Spaniards, one of the seamen being competent to act as spokesman in that language. But Robert Barrow could not assent to the falsehood.
Soon great numbers of Indians arrived, and most of them commenced taking from the vessel all that remained in it, but the cacique or king, with about thirty others, rushed upon the little band who were quietly sitting around the fire. The Indians were armed like the first two who came, except the cacique, who had a bayonet. They cried out '' Nicholeer," meaning English, but were not understood, and the captives were silent. They then cried ^'Espania," Spanish, to which some of the seamen assented. During this time the little company sat calm and still, under the covering of the spirit of pra3^er ; when the cacique placed himself behind Jonathan Dickinson, and one of his band behind each of the other prisoners. Their knives were elevated, and they looked to their king, as if for a signal to commence the work of slaughter.
They were at first loud in words, but the quietness of their prisoners seemed to afi'ect their minds, and they also became silent ; though they stood in the same threatening position for a quarter of an hour, their countenances had fallen. They then proceeded to open the chests, &c.,and divided the contents among themselves. They stripped of most of their clothing all the prisoners except R. Bar- row, the captain, and J. Dickinson's wife and child.
The cacique appeared to feel some kindness towards them, and at his suggestion they erected a tent, and gathered some leaves to lie on. They endeavored to obtain permission from the king to pass northward alonr; the beach, desiring to reach St. Augustine, but he said no, they should go southward with him. The Indians
18 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
seemed to doubt the prisoners being Spaniards, and often asked if they were not " Nicholeer ; '' on the 25th the king addressed the question to Robert Barrow, who answered in the affirmative. On this the company were stripped of most of the little clothing they had previously been allowed to retain. The prisoners were then ordered to march. One of the negroes was allowed to assist the captain, but J. Dickinson's wife was obliged to carry her child, each of the others being laden with the spoil. Their course was south, and for five miles they waded through deep sand under an oppressive sun.
They were then ferried across an inlet to the Indian town, where they passed the night. On the 26th the little band were gathered into silence, and some of them, as at sundry other times, were favored to feel the presence of the Lord in the midst of them. On this occasion, R. Barrow was much favored in testimony, and also in sup- plication, that if it was his Heavenly Father's will, they might be preserved from the perils around them. It was a season of refreshing and strengthening. The heart of the cacique was softened, and he told the prisoners they might depart, which they did 28th of Seventh month, the cacique protecting them to the last. He furnished a boat and a small stock of provisions for the invalids and weak ones.
After various dangers, especiall}^ from a rough sea, they landed and passed the night of the 29th on shore, and met those of their companions who had come b}^ land.
On the 30th, great numbers of Indians from St. Lucia, came fiercely upon them, crying '' Xicholeer ; ' ' all who had any clothing were quickly stripped of it ; the Indians ap- peared much enraged, and drew their arrows, but sud- denly became calm, and R. Barrow, J. Dickinson, his wife and child, were sent in a canoe over an inlet into the town. The Indians there seemed even more enraged than the
EGBERT BARROW* 19
others. Those who had rowed them over, spfang into the water to save themselves. Arrows were shot towards them, but the wife of the cacique and some others inter- ceded for the lives of the prisoners.
They were taken on shore, when a great contest arose among the Indians, some wishing to kill, others to save them. Many arrows were shot ; J. Dickinson's wife re- ceived several severe blows, and one Indian offered to cut her throat, but on the interference of her husband desisted. A handful of sand was thrust into the mouth of the babe, but the wife of the cacique rescued them.
The chief Indians held a council, at the close of which some articles by way of clothing were given to the prisoners.
Eighth month 1st. The cacique and women appeared kind, but they were told they should be taken to the next town, in which was a company of" Xicholeers" who were to be killed.
At ten o'clock at night, they were hurried away, with an Indian for a guide, while men and boj^s followed them for miles, pelting them as they went. The night was cold, but the day very hot, and they suffered much from fatigue, exhaustion, and want of water. At length they met the cacique of the town of Jece, which they were approaching. He appeared kind, said he would be their friend, and send them to Augustine. When they entered his town, he brought water and washed R. Barrow's feet, which had suffered grievously from stumps and stones on the way ; there were many holes in them in which a finger might be laid. On the 3d the cacique left them to de- mand a share of the money he understood was raised from the wreck of their vessel.
Then a storm of unusual fury occurred, which drove the sea into the town, and forced the inhabitants to leave
20
GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
it. For several days the prisoners had no food or fresh water. The infant received sustenance from Indian women, which sustained its life.
On the 1 1th the cacique returned ; he appeared incensed against his prisoners, and on being reminded of his prom- ise to send them to St. Augustine, made many excuses. At length concluding to go thither himself, he consented to take one of the company — the seaman who spoke Spanish — with him. They left on the 18th. Food was scarce, and the prisoners suffered much from hunger ; they would pick up the gills and entrails of fish, and thank- fully drank the water in which the Indians had boiled their fish. Yet through all, the confidence of some did not fail ; they quietly trusted that the Lord would work their deliverance.
On the 2d of Ninth month the old cacique returned, ac- companied by twelve Spaniards, sent by the governor of Augustine, who, having heard of shipwrecks, feared they might be of vessels he had recentl}^ despatched; and he sent this force to protect the crews, with orders to their captain to save those who had escaped from the wrecks, of whatever country they might be. The crew of another shipwrecked vessel was also at Jece. On the 3d, R. Bar- row and thirteen others, accompanied by four Indians, set out in a boat for Augustine ; they had been two days without food, when they were overtaken by those of the two wrecks they had left behind them, but they could spare them only a few berries ; all, during this journey, were frequently two days without anything to eat. On the 10th the}^ passed a town where, their Spanish guide informed them, the shipwrecked crew of a Dutch vessel had been killed and eaten twelve months before. The weather became very cold, and being obliged to encamp out at night, though they made large fires, they sufl*ered
ROBERT BARROW. 21
severely. On the 13th thej^ were forced to wade to their boats, and after going two leagues in them, were landed in a marsh, through which they had to pass a mile, and then walk five or six leagues to the residence of a Spanish sentinel. The northwest wind was violent, and the stoutest thought they could not survive that day. After going two miles, Benjamin Allen became stiff, his speech failed, and he began to foam at the mouth. J. Dickinson ran on several miles to endeavor to obtain help, but it was too late. When R. Barrow came to the place where he was laid, he stopped and spoke to him ; he was too far gone to answer, but he cried piteously. Five of the com- pany perished that day, four of whom were well in the morning.
J. Dickinson, his wife and child, reached the sentinel's house about an hour after nightfall ; B. Barrow in less than two hours afterward. Some of the company missed the house and travelled thirty-six hours without inter- mission. Those who reached the house were in great pain, their feet extremely bruised, the skin entirely off, and a mass of sand and blood caked to them. After a night of suffering they were forced to proceed, though the wind was high as the previous day. The house of the next sentinel was on the north side of an inlet. He came across in a canoe for them, would not suffer them to enter his house, but caused them to build a fire under the lee of it ; in half an hour gave each a cup of cassena, and two quarts of Indian corn to be divided among all, then bade them depart to the next sentinel's house, one league farther. There they were kindly received, and furnished with a plentiful repast.
Next day a canoe arrived for them, sent by the gov- ernor of Augustine. The day was cold, and the company in a suffering condition, but two hours before sundown
22 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY- FIVE.
they reached Augustine, and were taken to the governor's house. He sent Mary Dickinson to his ^vife's apartments and kindly cared for the others. They were quartered among the inhabitants, who were very kind to them, and clothed them with the best they could procure. R. Bar- row was suffering severely from diarrhoea, which reduced him A ery low.
After signing an obligation to pay for the provisions and clothing thej had purchased, they parted from the governor with mutually kind feelings ; and 29th of Ninth month, with a captain and six soldiers, sailed to Santa Cruz, where they passed the night, being supplied by the Indians with such provisions as they needed.
On the 2d of Tenth month they reached the town of St. Mary, where they made such provision as they could for their journey to Carolina. They left St. Mary on the 5th, with seven large canoes, seven Spaniards, and more than thirty Indians to pilot and row them. After much wet and cold travelling, during which R. Barrow could neither be made warm, nor obtain natural rest, they reached the first settlement in Carolina on the 2 2d.
This belonged to Richard Bennet. "^ho received them very kindly, provided for them plentifully and treated their Spanish conductors with great hospitality. On the 24th they reached the country-seat of Governor Blake, who showed them much kindness, and sent R. Barrow to the house of his neighbor, Margaret Bammers, an ancient Friend, who, he said, would be careful of him and nurse him. The others went to Charleston, where they sepa- rated.
R. Barrow continued very weak. Earlj^ in First month, 1697, he was taken into Charleston, where he lay at the house of Mary Cross, In a letter to his wife he wntes thus of his kind hostess :-«-
ROBERT BARROW. 23
^^ At last we arrived at Ashley River ; and 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. She is a widow of a second husband ; her name is now Mary Cross."*
R. Barrow was anxious to reach Philadelphia, and though the captain who was to take J. Dickinson and family, was unwilling to receive him on board in his weak condition, his earnest entreaties prevailed. They em- barked First month 18th, and arrived 1st of Second month. Many Friends went on board to see R. Barrow, he being too weak from his disorder (which had been on him fourteen weeks) to be removed that night. His mind was strong, and he rejoiced to see his friends; ex- pressed great satisfaction that the Lord had granted his request to bring him to that place, that he might lay down his body there. Next day, having wrapped him in a blanket, and placed him in a hammock, divers Friends assisted in carrying him to the ^^ welling of Samuel Car- penter, where, having many of his friends around him, his heart seemed to overflow with gratitude to his Creator. He said, '' My heart is yet strong, and my memory and understanding good." He continued in a sweet, thankful frame of mind, saying, " The Lord has been very good to me all along, unto this very day ; and this very morning hath sweetly refreshed me." ^' It is a good thing to have a conscience void of offence towards
^' Mary Cross was married to her second husband, John Cross, of London, in the year 1078. They emigrated to South Carolina, where, it is supjjosed, she passed the remainder of her eventful life.
24 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
God, and towards men." '' The Lord, in bringing me hither hath given me the desire of my heart, and if I die here I am A^ery well satisfied, and believe my wife will be well satisfied also, for as the Lord gave her to me, and gave me to her, even so have we given one another up." '' The Lord is wdth me and all is w^ell ; I have nothing of guilt upon me, and have nothing to do but to die, and if I die now, I shall die like an innocent child ; " — with much more of the same import, and he gave much solid advice to his friends. On the 4th he dictated a letter to his wife, after which he seemed gradually to sink. A friend who stood by his bedside, remarking in a low voice, he believed that Robert w^as not sensible, he immediately said, '' I have my senses very perfect, and thank the Lord that He hath not left me, but preserved me in my understandifig to this moment." The last sentence understood was, " God is good still." Then, after lying quietly for a time, he gently passed away, Second month 4th, 169Y.
JOHN LEIFCHILD.
John Leifchild was formerly " minister of an Indepen- dent Chapel in England." He relates the following as a singular lapse of memory w^hich once befell him, and which he never before or afterwards experienced. ^' When I rose from sleep, I could not recollect any por- tion of the discourse, which I had prepared on the day before; and what was most strange, I could not even remember the text of the prepared sermon. I was per- plexed, and walked out before breakfast in Kensington Gardens. While there, a particular text occurred to my mind ; and my thoughts seemed to dwell upon it so much that I resolved to preach from it^ without further attempt-
JAMES SIMPSON. 25
ing to recall what I had prepared, — a thing which I had never ventured to do, during all my niinistr}^ From this text I preached, and it was, 'Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.' I preached with great liberty, and in the course of the sermon, I quoted the lines, —
* Beware of desperate steps ! the darkest day — Live till to-morrow— will have passed away.'
^' I afterwards learned that a man in despair had that very morning gone to the Serpentine to drown himself in it. For this purpose he had filled his pockets with stones, hoping to sink at once. Some passengers, however, dis- turbed him, while on the brink, and he returned to Ken- sington, intending to drown himself in the dusk of the evening. On passing my Chapel, he saw a number of people crowding into it, and thought he would join them in order to pass away the time. His attention was riv- eted to the sermon, which seemed to be in part com- posed for him ; and when he heard me quote the lines alluded to, he resolved to abandon his suicidal inten- tions."
JAMES SIMPSON.
James Simpson, son of John and Hannah Simpson, was born in Bucks County, Pennsylvania, on the 19th of the Third month, 1743. His father died when he was about three years of age. During his minority, he was jnuch exposed to raw and profane companions, and seldom, if ever, had an opportunity of attending relig. ious meetings of the Society of Friends, although he had a birthright in the Society. His mother married a Pres-
26 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY- FIVE.
byterian, and her children Tvere brought up under Ms care.
James learned the trade of a cooper, and after the marriage of his elder brother, John, went to reside with him, nearly four miles from Buckingham Meeting, of which he was a member, and of which he became a dili- gent attender when in health. Having passed through deep bai)tisms, he had humbly to acknowledge the Divine goodness, in manifesting the gospel light to his be- nighted soul, when almost sunk into a state of despair. This he compared to the light of the sun, breaking from thick clouds, and darting its rays through a glass window into a room (which in the dark, might have been supposed to be clean and in order), discovering not only all that was out of order, but even the cobwebs, the spiders and the insects that had taken up an abode therein, manifest- ing that there was much to be done within the chamber.
The Divine Light also showed him an extensive pros- pect of labor without ; and he felt his soul raised to an ecstasy of hope and joy, in an evidence that he was re- ceived into favor with his Heavenly Father. In the expandings of Divine love, his vision was extended to almost all parts of the country ; and his heart being filled with affection to his fellow-creatures, he felt as though he was commissioned to preach the gospel of salvation to them. A day and. place, he remarked, not to be forgotten by him !
From this time he believed that he was anointed, and, in due season, he was called to the gospel ministry ; soon after which he had a dream that sealed deep instruction on his mind. He thought he was standing b}^ the meet- ing-house at Buckingham, and saw a number of iron pots standing out, open to the firmament ; he saw the}^ were covered with rust, and there was much rubbish
JAMES SIMPSON.
27
within them. As he looked at them, a person ^Vho stood by told him it was his business to cleanse and scour these pots. James felt himself weak, and told the person he could not do it, — that his strength was not sufficient to scour one of them. The person told him he was not required to do more than his strength would w^arrant ; but that he must begin at one, do something at it, and if he could not finish it at one time, leave it, and try it again; and so on, working at them from one time to another ; and his strength would be increased in propor- tion to his labor, till he would be enabled to finish the work that was given him to do.
Being of a weakly constitution, and the trade of a cooper not agreeing with his health, and also being poor, he was often much discouraged, fearing (as he expressed) that he should become chargeable to the parish. He therefore engaged, with a partner, in a small retail store in Buckingham. While thus employed, his ministry being approved, he joined with several Friends in a religious visit to the families of members within the limits of Buckingham Monthly Meeting. Previouslj^ to entering on the service, he had purchased a hogshead of rum for sale. In the course of the visits, while sitting in a family at Plumstead, the hogshead of rum came before him, with such melancholy reflections on the mischief it might occasion, as produced much discouragement, and a desire to relinquish the service he was engaged in, and return home. This desire he expressed to his friends, but they not being willing to part with him, he accompanied them to several places ; but his uneasiness continued, and the hogshead of rum being constantl}^ before him, he was entirely silent. Some of his companions spoke a few words at some places, but at length all vocal ser- vice closed, and they sat in several families in silence.
28 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
A state of general depression having at length taken place among them, they took an opportunity together to search for the cause. James again requested to be re- leased, saying he was a Jonah aboard the ship. Oliver Paxson then fixing his eyes on him, inquired his reasons, saying : '' The eyes of the people are upon thee ; if thou desert us, we cannot proceed without thee to satisfac- tion." James then informed them what he had done, and how the hogshead of rum was continually before him. He was asked what he wished to do, and told them it now appeared to be his duty to go home and tell his partner to dispose of that rum to such only as would not be likely to make a bad use of it, and that no more spir- ituous liquors should be purchased in his name ; which his friends agreeing to, he went home and made arrange- ments with his partner to that effect. He then felt his mind relieved, and proceeded on the family visits to sat- isfaction. From this time he steadily bore a testimony against the selling and unnecessary use of spirituous liquors.
As it was customary to keep ardent spirits for sale in country stores, and the use of it was at that time gen- eral among Friends and others, it is probable these cir- cumstances might have discouraged him from continuing in the business of a storekeeper.
He next undertook brush-making ; but the want of a market for his manufactures was discouraging. Still he was anxious to do something to gain an honest liveli- hood, and often waded through deep discouragement of mind ; under which, he said, he frequently put up his pe- titions to his great Master, to open his way and show him what he should do. And such was his humiliation, that he was willing to exert his little bodily strength, without regarding how mean the eInployme^t might ap«
JAMEg SlMPgON.
29
pear in the sight of the people. While under this close trial, he had a remarkable dream, in which he was in- structed in the whole art of raising broom corn, and making brooms ; and considering it a kind interposition of Providence on his behalf, he resolved to follow the directions thus communicated, and clearly impressed on his mind. He therefore procured seed, planted it, nursed and raised the broom corn, prepared it as directed, and in due time was able to realize the substantial broom. Pleased with his success, he took a small load of them to Philadelphia, where he exhibited them in the market for sale. He waited some time for purchasers without much success, when he noticed that an oysterman, w^ho was travelling the street with his wheelbarrow, and making proclamation of what he had to dispose of, had cus- tomers ; a thought occurred, that he was standing there idle, because his pride would not suffer him to do like- wise ; he therefore took a bundle of brooms on his shoulder ; and as he walked the street oifering them for sale, was met by Nicholas Wain, who accosted him with his usual pleasantry, though with marks of surprise at his employment, and said it would never do for James Simpson to be peddling brooms about the street. James replied the occupation was honest, and the method he had adopted for the sale appeared necessary. Nicholas finally purchased his brooms, but advised him to follow some other business. James could not agree to that, so he pursued the broom-making, in addition to brush- making ; and by these means supported himself hy the labor of his own hands.
In the Second month, 1789, James Simpson took a certificate from Buckingham to Horsham Monthly Meet- ing,and at the Billet (now called Hatborough) lie pursued the business of making brooms and brushes, — carried ou
30
GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
some coopering business, and kept earthenware, with a few other articles for sale.
In the Tenth month, 1190, he married Martha Shoe- maker, a widow. His last residence w^as at Frankford.
He at one time observed to a Friend, that he appre- hended his time was drawing to a close, and he had thought of leaving some notes of particular visitations and divine openings, which he had experienced in his youthful days, saying, he believed his path in some re- spects had been singular. He mentioned many subjects, and proposed that his friends should at a future time com- mit them to w^riting (from his dictation), which was promised, but postponed^ and never accomplished. A memoir of him has been published, but it is cause for regret that his concern was not attended to.
In the character ot James Simpson were some singular- ities and eccentricities, yet through and over all these the purity and originality of his mind were often displayed in a remarkable manner; evincing, with clear demonstra- tion, that the cause of truth and righteousness was dear to his heart. The instructive application of his parables, similes, and metaphors, drawn from common occurrences, from natural things, and familiar objects, was peculiarly impressive. When in his usual health, he manifested a fear of death, but at the last all fear was taken away. A friend, calling to see him, found him lying on his bed. James said he had been very poorly, but then felt easier; the friend left him, but was soon recalled, when James appeared to be composed, and said to him," I believe I am going to leave you." A few minutes after he said to his wife, " My dear, I am going to leave you." His pulse being sunk, it then appeared probable to his friends that his close w^as near. He supplicated that if his day's work was done, his bands might be loosed^ and he re-
JAMES SIMPSON. 31
ceived into rest, and not continued to be a burden to his friends. Shortly after, he requested to be turned over, then said, "It is done! It is done!" — after which he breathed a few times, then quietly departed, on the 9th of Fourth month, 1811, over 68 years of age.
James Simpson was at times subject to deep dejection, when he thought himself unable to do anything, but even when he felt most debased, he would, under religious ex- ercise, be as lively in testimony as in times of more cheerfulness. Indeed, it was remarked he was frequently most favored, when raised from one of those seasons of deep depression. He once went to Philadelphia, with a certificate, to visit the families of Friends there, and Sarah Harrison, who was under a like concern, uniting with him in his prospect, David Bacon, an experienced elder, was appointed to accompan}^ them. On the last day of their visits they were to commence with the family of Governor Dickinson, whose wife and daughters were members. During the previous night James became much depressed, and thought he could not go to the Governor's house ; so in the morning he determined to go home and leave the other friends to perform that visit. Thinking, however, it would be dishonorable not to in- form David Bacon of his purpose, he went to his house, with his horse saddled and the baggage on. After fast- ening his horse, he went in and told David he had come to bid him farewell. "Farewell!" said David, " wh}^, where art thou going?" " Home," said James. " Thou must not go ; where is thy horse ?" " It is at the door." David told his man to take the horse back to the stable and have it taken care of. He then took James with him to Sarah Harrison's, and they all proceeded to Governor Dickinson's house. On the way they were obliged to keep a constant watch on James, lest he should desert
32 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
them. Just before reaching the Governor's house, James clapped his hands together, earnestly exclaiming, " If I live through this day, I shall live forever." When they entered the house, the Governor was not present. James sat down, threw his hat under the chair, and placed his head between his knees. After some time the Governor slid quietly in, and James soon began slowty to raise his head, and commenced a discourse which, for religious weight and instruction, Sarah Harrison thought she had never heard excelled.
James Simpson, while engaged in religious service within the compass of Concord Quarterlj^ Meeting, ap- pointed a meeting to be held at Providence ; but after notice thereof had been given, an attack of his constitu- tional depression came on, and he was dipped into a state of self-loathing, and so stripped of all feeling of ability for service that he concluded he could not go to the meeting, and must go home. His companion, finding his efforts to change James' purpose unavailing, proposed they should remain where they were that night, adding, that in the morning, if it should seem best, would be time enough to set out for home. The morning came, but it was still night to James ; his depression continued, and his desire to go home was not lessened. His friend then proposed that they should sit down together, to seek in silence and quietude, the Master's will in the matter. As they sat a precious solemnity fell upon them, and after a time James rose, exclaiming in a cheerful, thankful man- ner,'' I can go to the meeting now! The Master has promised to send his servant Eli Yarnall there to pray for me."
They went to the meeting-house, and the people gath- ered. After they were settled, Eli Yarnall came in. He was soon bowed in vocal supplication, that the Lord
JAMES SIMPSON. 33
would be pleased to support and comfort his afflicted servant. His concern seemed to be confined to the strengthening of his sorrowful fellow-laborer in the gos- pel, who had been in such a low place. James was then, with renewed faith in the sufliciency of Divine grace to qualify him for the service called for at his hand, enabled to travail in spirit for the everlasting well-being of those present ; and he was soon raised on his feet and enabled to preach the gospel of life and salvation with fervency and power.
At the meeting, Eli Yarnall spoke of having been dragged there that day. He was at work in a field, when he felt an impression on his mind, as though one had spoken to him, that he must go to Providence Meeting that day. He was startled.; no information of the ax> pointment had reached him, and he said to himself, '^It is not the day of the week on which Providence Meeting is held." He reasoned against the impression, but after some internal conflict submitted to it, and went to his house. His wife observed to him it was not the day on which Providence Meeting was held, but faithful to the impression of duty he went, the time he had spent in reasoning against it causing him to be late at meeting.
SERMON BY JAMES SIMPSON.
(A few months previous to his decease.)
^' What I am going to relate is but a simple story, and it is very probable some of 3^ou may have heard me tell it before; but it has taken such possession of my mind, that I thought I would just drop it for your considera- tion. When I was a young man, there lived in our neighborhood a Presbyterian who was universally re- ported to be a very liberal man, and uncommonly upright
34 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
in his dealings. When he had any of the produce of his larm to dispose of, he made it an invariable rule to give good measure, over good, rather more than could be re- quired of him. One of his friends observing him fre- quently doing so, questioned himwhyhe did it, told him he gaA'e too much, and said it could not be to his own advantage. Xow, my friends, mark the answer of this Presbyterian : ' Grod Almighty has permitted me but one journey through this world, and when I am gone I cannot return to rectify mistakes.' Think of this, friends ; but one journey through the world 1 The hours that are past are gone forever, and the actions in those hours can never be recalled ! I do not throw it out as a charge, nor mean to imply that any of a^ou are dishonest, but the words of this good Presbyterian have often impressed my mind, and, I think, in an instructive manner. But one journey ! We are allowed but one journey through the world, therefore let none of us say, ' My tongue is my own, I'll talk what I please ; my time is my own, I'll go where I please ; I can go to meeting, or, if the world calls me, I'll stay at home ; it's all my own.' Xow this won't do, friends. It is as impossible for us to live as we list, and then come here and worship, as it is for a lamp to burn without oil. It is utteiiy impossible. And I was thinking what a droll composition man is ; he is composed of dollars, cents, newspapers, &c., and bring- ing, as it were, the world on his back, he comes here to perform worship, or at least he would have it appear so. Xow friends, I just drop it before we part, for your con- sideration. Let each one try himself, and see how it is with his own soul.''
JAMES SIMPSON. 35
JAMES SIMPSOIN" AND A DOCTOR.
The following circumstance was related by James Simpson after his return from a religious visit to some of the Eastern States. It occurred whilst he was travelling in Rhode Island.
'^ I met with a young doctor, whom I took to be a deist. I asked him if he was not a deist, and he frankly acknowledged he w^as. I then remarked to him that I supposed it was of no use to to talk with him about the Scriptures, for he did not believe them. His answer was, ' No, sir, I do not.' ^ Well,' replied I, 'as it is reason thou buildest uj)on, render me a reason for thy disbelief.' That he thought he could readily do, 'for,' said he, 'there are so many foolish, nonsensical passages in them, that it is beneath a man of good understanding to believe them.' I then requested him to single out one of those foolish passages, and the one he fixed upon was the woman being cured of a grievous disease by touching the hem of our Saviour's garment ; which he considered fool- ish nonsense, and that it was beneath a man of good understanding to believe such tales.
" I then told him I supposed he was well acquainted with the power of electricity. ' Yes,' he said, ' he was.' ' Well,' said I, ' supposing thou had never seen or heard tell of it, and a stranger, as I am, should come from another country and tell thee he could fill thee so full of fire, that another touching thy garment, the fire would fiy out of thee into him ; would st thou not think it a foolish tale, that was not worth thy notice ?' After some pause, he said he thought he should. I then remarked to him, ' If a man can be filled so full of fire that, another touch- ing his garment, the fire will go into him (as this we know to be the case), why not admit the Saviour of the
S6 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
world to be so filled with heavenly virtue that, another touching His garment, virtue should go out of Him into them? at which he sat a considerable time silent; and finding he was in a better state to hear me^ I asked him this question : ' Hast thou never been sitting in thy room, thinking little or nothing (not nothing, because thoughts are never quite still), and all at once something alarms thee — perhaps it is a gun shot off out yonder — and so soon as that sound strikes thy ear, thy eye is turned to see ; and when thy eye discovers it, thy nerves and mem- bers are at command to start up and go. Now, as thou art a physician, and pretends to understand the human frame, render me a reason (as it is reason thou buildest upon) of this intelligence from the ear to the eye, and so on to thy other faculties and members.' His answer was, ' Oh, sir, that is out of my power.'
*' Finding him now in a better state to hear than to talk, I went on from one thing to another, till I beat him as effectually out of his deism, I believe, as ever a man was beaten out of anything. And I thought he loved me as well as ever he loved any man, for he followed me several hundred miles, and assisted me in appointing meetings where there were no Friends."
A DKEAM OF OLIVER PAXSOK.
Oliver Paxson, a valuable Elder, who resided in Sole- bury, Bucks County, had a dream from which he derived instruction. He thought he was from home, and, being about to return, had a stream of water to pass over. On reaching the crossing-place, he found a large serpent, who told him he had alwa3^s been his enemy, and now he was determined he should not pass there. Oliver said
ABEL HAUGHTON. 37
that was his way home, and he must go through ; but the serpent still opposed him, and in discouragement he turned away. But thoughts of the distress his family would experience, should he not return, again strength- ened his resolution, and he determined to return and go through. He found now that the serpent had received a reinforcement of its kind, and the obstacles to crossing were more formidable than before. But the thoughts of home prompted him, and saying, '' Go through I will," he made a cut with his whip at the serpents, who all slunk away. The conclusion he arrived at from this dream w^as, '' Turn from duty, and fresh impediments will arise; resist the devil and he will flee."
Oliver Paxson was a faithful man in every condition in life, and peculiarly serviceable in religious society. He departed in peace, Tenth month 29th, 181T, aged t6 years.
" He was a man who stood as a pillar in the church, and as a watchman on the walls of Zion, zealous in the support of the primitive principles and testimonies" of the Religious Society of Friends.
ABEL HAUGHTON.
(Pronounced Hooten.)
Thomas Watson, of New England, a minister of the Society of Friends, who had been a soldier in the Ilevo- lutionary War, went in the night season, to the window of Abel Haughton, and cried out, '' Abel, Abel ! if the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that dark- ness!" Many years afterwards, when Abel Haughton, who was a talented and highly gifted man, had long been an approved minister, he through unwatchfulness suf- ftred himself to become very much iuterested in politics,
38 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
and united with the New Lights (as some seceders from the Society of Friends were called). At length, about the 3^ear 1814, he took a contract to make one thousand pairs of shoes for soldiers at that time engaged in war ; and soon after fell away so far as to become terribly pro- fane. Some time after that, he was affected with '' shak- ing palsy ;" could not feed himself, and shook so much that it was very difficult for another to feed him. But his wife would stand by him, with one hand wiping the saliva, which was constantly streaming from his mouth, and with the other giving him food from a spoon, while he constantly assailed her with dreadful imprecations. This state of things had continued three years, when through the power of Divine Grace, he was brought to a sense of his condition. He sent for the overseers of the meeting of which he had been a member, told them they did right to disown him, and appeared very penitent. After he had sent for them a second time, the Monthly' Meeting at Lynn, Massachusetts, appointed a committee to visit him ; one member of which had previously felt a concern to do so. During their interview with him, he was very deeply affected. The committee were convinced that he was truly penitent and humble, and made a favor- able report to the Monthly Meeting. One Friend, who could not unite with the report, was requested to visit Abel ; he did so, and at the next Monthly Meeting said, "• If any are not satisfied, let them visit him as I did." A. Haughton was received again into membership, and was so entirely changed, that his wife said she was paid for all she had suffered. He lived two or three years, but was unable to go out.
ACCOUNT OF TWO FRIENDS IN SCOTLAND. 39
ACCOUNT OF TWO FRIENDS IN SCOTLAND.
In the early part of the eighteenth century, a man and his wife, members of the Religious Society of Friends, who resided in some part of Scotland, having by their industry saved some money over and above their neces- sary support, the woman Friend said to her husband, in reference to this their saving : '' We must consider how we may make a right use of this overplus we are favored with." They accordingly consulted together on the subject, concluding if this was not properly attended to, a blast might come on their future endeavors for further supplies of necessaries ; and at length concluded they could do no better than build a meeting-house with it, there not being one in the place where they resided.
They accordingly went to work ; the woman Friend trod the clay of which the walls were composed, with her bare feet ; a window was made north and south, but not of glass ; only wooden shutters to cover each of the holes left to admit light, and when the wind was on the north side of the house, the south shutter was to be opened, and so again reversed. This work was completed by their own labor and their savings, which amounted only to the sum of five pounds, as they had but little more to purchase than doors, window-frames, rafters, and shutters, with boards for seats, the supporters of which were made, like the walls of the building, with mud.
Two women Friends travelling in the work of the min- istry, being that way, had a meeting in tliis nieetinu- house ; report says, one of the most favored to them they remembered to have ever had.
They returned home with tlie proprietors of this humble place of worship, and gave the following report
40 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
of their entertainment : on taking their seats, a wooden bowl of crowdy, which is oat-meal boiled in water with vegetables, served up as soup, w^as given to each of them. After the meal was over the man entertained his guests with the following narrative, sajdng : ''He had a good fortune wdth his wdfe, for he had been taking out of it ever since they had been together, and 3^et he could not perceive it was any ways lessened." This good fortune which he had with his wife, he informed them, consisted of six shillings and eight pence, with which he bought the brock, as he called it, meaning the pot in which the crowdy had been boiled, they had been partaking of.
WILLIAM TUCHOLD.
(Pronounced Touchhold.)
William Tuchold resided in Barmen, near Elberfeld, on the riv^ Wupper, Prussia. He w^as a shoemaker, and had from eleven to thirteen men w^orking for him. In 1830 he became convinced of the principles of Friends, and changed his dress, putting on a plain coat and hat, in consequence of which his customers immediately left him ; even those who had shoes in his shop to be mended took them away, so that he was obliged to discharge his men, and in course of a week had no work to do. His wife and her family, who were Presbyterians, were very much opposed to him, calling Friends anti-Christians. And thinking W^illiam would not have enough to suj^port his family, his wife's father and her brother came to take her home with them. They packed up all the goods she had brought there, leaving onl}^ a table and settee. When all w^ere in the wagon, they told her to bring the children and come with them. W^illiam was seated on the settee,
WILLIAM TUCHOLD. 41
trying to compose his mind and look to his Maker. His wife took the children, but looked back from the door and said, '^ William, is it possible to see me and the .children go away?" He answered, ^^ Thou know'st I love thee, and that I suffer these things for the love of my Saviour. If thou lovest father and mother more than me, thou wilt have to go with them, for I love Christ more than thee and my children. ' He that loveth father or mother more than me, is not worthy of me, and he that loveth son or daughter more than me, is not worthy of me.' " She immediately returned, fell on his neck, and said nothing but death should separate them ; she was willing to suffer all things with him for Truth's sake. She then told her father she could not go, he might take all the goods, she could not leave William, but would stay with him to live or die. Her father and brother, though very much per- plexed by the change, drove off with the goods. But the horses would not pull together, and the goods fell off. Feeling much distressed, they finally concluded to turn back ; and when they had done so, the horses worked well, and the goods staid on until they again arrived at the house, where they unloaded them all. William said he rejoiced in his heart that he had been enabled to give up all, wife and children, for Truth's sake, and it was marvellous in his eyes, that after all was given up, the Master had given all back. His wife's family became reconciled to him. He commenced another business, and prospered in it. All in that place who became convinced of Friends 'principles, had to suffer more for plainness of dress and address than any other of their testimonies.
42 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
DOCTOR PAYS OX.
Dr. Payson used the following illustration in familiar conversation with a friend : '* God deals somewhat with us as we do with our children. When I am in my study engaged in writing or meditation, if 1 hear one of my children cry, I do not go to it immediately. The occa- sion of its tears may be a mere momentary trouble, capable of being removed by others, or from which it may be diverted by some toys. But if its cries continue^ and I find that nothing but my presence will pacify it, I leave everything and go to it. So when the children of God begin to cry for His presence, He does not answer them immediately, but waits to see whether the cry is repeated, and if He finds that His child will be satisfied with nothing but his Father's presence, this blessing will not be long withheld.''
During the last illness of Dr. Payson, a friend coming into his room, remarked familiarly, '^ "Well, I am sorry to see you lying here on 3'our back.'' ^* Do you not know what God j^uts us on our backs for?'' said Dr. Payson smilingly. ^' Xo.'' was the answer. " In order that we may look upward.'^
A friend said to him, '' I am not come to condole, but to rejoice with you, for it seems to me that this is no time for mourning.'' '' Well, I am glad to hear that," was the reply, ^' for it is not often that I am addressed in such a wa}'. The fact is, I never had less need of condolence, and yet everybody persists in ofiTering it ; whereas, when I was prosperous and well, and a successful preacher, and really needed condolence, they flattered and congratulated me."
Toward the close of his life, Dr. Pavson observed that
WILLIAM CROTCH. 43
Christians might avoid much trouble and inconvenience, if they would only believe what they profess, that God is able to make them supremely happy in Himself, inde- pendently of all circumstances. " They imagine," he writes, *' that if such a dear friend were to die, or such and such blessings be removed, they should be miserable, whereas God can make them a thousand times happier without them. To mention my own case : God has been depriving me of one mercy after another ; but as one was removed. He has come in and filled up its place. Now when I am a cripple and not able to move, I am happier than ever I was in my life before, or ever expect to be ; and if I had believed this twenty years ago, I might have been spared much anxiety. If God had told me some time ago that He was about to make me as happy as I could be m this world, and then had told me that He should begin by crippling me in all my limbs, and removing me from my usual sources of enjoyment, I should have thought it a very strange mode of accom- plishing His purpose. And yet, how is His wisdom manifest, even in this life."
WILLIAM CROTCH.
In uue year 1^95, William Crotch, of JSTeedham, in Suffolk, being on a religious visit to Friends, and at Margaret Kayner's house, Sunny Side, Eosendale, Lan- cashire, in conversation gave the following account of his convincement and the earl}^ part of his life. " I was brought up waiting-boy at a great inn in Norwich, the mistress thereof being my cousin, though I was not allowed to call her so ; and about the eleventh year of my age, a brother of mine, ten years older than ni3^solf, coming to our house, mentioned his liaving lately ])eou
44 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
at a Quaker meeting, and related several particulars by way of ridicule to make sport among the servants. After hearing him, I said, 'Well, I will certainly go to the Quaker meeting next Sunday,' it being my turn to have liberty that day. When the day came I set out, but knew not which way to go, and was ashamed to ask any one; however, I ventured at last, and was told there was a Quaker funeral going just there, so I followed ; but when I came to the meeting-house, I felt such an awe upon my mind, and was seized with such trembling, that I dared not enter; and when all were seated, I looked in, and the Friends seemed to my vieiv as if sitting in paradise ; but I could not have had courage to have entered at all, had not the doorkeeper come and taken me by the hand, and seated me beside him. When I returned I told my brother I had been at Quaker meeting, and never had such feelings, nor was so comforted in my mind in any other place of worship in my life. ' Well,' said he lightly, 4t's likely enough the boy will be a Quaker.'
'^ From this time I continued to attend whenever I had liberty, till it came to the knowledge of my mistress, who was exceedingly disturbed at it, and made me promise to go to Peter's Church, or I should not go out at all; so I accordingly went just within the door, and then ran with all speed to the meeting, where I was abundantly favored, and confirmed in my resolution to persevere.
"After a while, however, my mistress bethought her to examine me what the text was, and of this I could give no account, and durst not tell a lie, so I was put to the test and found out ; and much pains were taken both by herself and men who frequented the house, whom she emplo}' ed to induce me by any means to leave off going to the Quakers, but I never could be brought to that.
''My father and mother also came and reasoned with
WILLIAM CROTCH.
45
me much; my father being a sober man, used what argu- ments he could to induce me, but when he saw it was in vain, he threatened to leave me nothing, though he had some hundreds to dispose of; however, he lived to change his mind, and he left me the largest share, made me executor to his will, and said, 'William, I wish they were all Quakers. '
" My mistress took a pleasure in seeing me smart and I loved to be fine, but now it grew uneasy to me, and when I saw any women Friends in the street, or their children, I used to follow and admire them. I now wished much to live among Friends, so found out a shoemaker of that profession, and bespoke a pair of shoes, but I had not courage to speak upon the subject, till I went for them ; when, being a sixpence short, he said, 'I think I dare trust thee for the sixpence, thou looks a good honest lad.' So I took courage, and asked him if he could help me to a place among Friends. He said he thought he remembered seeing me at their meet- ings, and asked me if I loved to go to meetings? I an- swered, 'Yes, I do;' so he promised to mention me to some Friends, and soon after, three of them came to the inn. I rejoiced to see them, and they w^ere shown into a room. . . . They asked for my mistress, and upon talking a little with her concerning me, I heard her say, ' Indeed I have loved the boy as my own child, and been exceed- ingly grieved and distressed at his coming amongst you ; but now the time is come, that he is more fit for you than us.' And I was soon after received, at the age of thir- teen. I was some time footman to John Gurney, and afterwards apprenticed myself to a shoemaker, where I found that all Quakers were not alike, for I had a hard place, but the time got over. I remember one First day, when Rachel Wilson was to be at our meeting, I inviUHl
46 GLEANINOS AT SEVENTH-FIVE.
William Crane, a neighboring boy with whom I was in- timate,and whom I knew to be a solid, thoughtful youth, to go with me ; he did so, and we sat together; at which time he was so tendered and broken into tears, that I believe he was effectually reached ; and he abode with it, and is now an eminent minister and dear friend of mine in Norwich.
'' My cousin, with whom I lived, is still living, and rejoices to see me.
'^ When people are faithful to what is manifested to them to be right, way is made for them through what- ever difficulties they are tried with.''
THE DUKE OP WELLINGTON.
^^ Is not gaining a great victory the most glorious thing in the world ? " asked a lady, of the Duke of Wel- lington, at the time of the occupation of Paris by the allies. The Duke replied, ''It is the greatest of all calamities except a defeat."
ANECDOTE OF A BISHOP OF LONDON.
It is related of a Bishop of London, that being in want of some article connected with house furniture, he sent to the house of a member of the Society of Friends, in the city, for patterns of the article he wanted. When the Bishop's message reached the shop, the proprietor was absent, but a young and consistent Friend in his employ, went to the palace with the desired patterns, and after having shown them to the Bishop, was desired
WILLIAM BLAKEY. 47
to leave them until next morning, when, after the ap- proval of a pattern, a message should be forwarded to the house for a party to return and take the order.
When the young man reached the warehouse, he found his employer there, who queried of him where he had been, and on being informed, remarked very sharply that he supposed he should lose the order, from the young man's stiffness, and requested to be informed when the Bishop's messenger should arrive.
The following morning the Bishop sent down according to promise, and the Friend hastened to attend to the business. He was introduced to the Bishop, to whom he made a profound bow, and then accosted him in a manner quite inconsistent with his profession.
The Bishop, perceiving this, asked if he w^as the per- son who called upon him yesterday? To which the Friend replied, 'No ; he had left the young man at home, as he preferred calling personally. The Bishop told him that he should prefer seeing the person who had previously called upon him, and added to the following effect : '' Let me give you a few words of advice : never be ashamed of consistently carrying out your profession, for however much others may differ from you in religious opinion J they always admire the conduct of those who consistently carry out the views which they profess to hold."
WILLIAM B L A K E Y.
William Blakey, a minister of the Gospel in the So- ciety of Friends, resided at Middletown, Bucks County, Pennsylvania. During the war of the American Ilevo- lution, he, with many of his fellow-professors, suffered
48 GLEANl^*GS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
from the foraging parties of the American arm}'. At one time a party, headed by an officer , came to William's farm, and appeared disposed to strip him of all his sub- stance which they could possibly take off. The officer ordered his men to seize upon the horses and wagons, and to load up the grain and other produce. Whilst the men were doing his bidding, he himself was abusing William, calling him a rebel, and threatening to take his life. His aim seemed to be to irritate William, so that he should do or say something which might furnish a pretext for personal violence towards him.
But William remained silent, and was perfectly calm and collected ; his thoughts were turned inward towards his Divine Master, for strength and support, and he dis- played no hard feelings towards those who were thus robbing him of his substance. The officer soon became silent : he was evidently agitated and distressed. The quiet humility of his victim was a more powerful appeal to him than the most eloquent intercession would have proved.
After a time he turned to William, and with a faltering voice, asked him if he ever prayed. William replied, he hoped he had at times been favored to have access to the Throne of Grace, and that at this time of trial he had been endeavoring to feel after the spirit of supplication. The officer then asked if he ever prayed for any one but himself, and on William answering in the affirmative, added, ** I wish then you would pray for me. for I would not endure the wretchedness I now feel for all you are worth. '■ The soldiers had by this time secured the grain and loaded it into the wagons ; but the officer was so completely overcome by the meek, Christian spirit of him they had been spoiling of his goods, that he ordered all to be restored.
MEMOIRS 01^ WILLIAM BRAMWELL. 49
A MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE.
Words used by Friends in the marriage ceremony, (and also in the certificates) varied much previous to the establishment of a form by Discipline (probably in It 21). A certificate recorded in Yorkshire, is as follows :
"• George Musgrave loved Ann Brock, and she became his wife, publicly in the congregation, upon the twentieth day of the Tenth month, in the year 1663."
[Signed by seventeen witnesses.]
EXTRACT FROM MEMOIRS OF WILLIAM BRAMWELL.
(Taken from the "Imperial Magazine " for Twelfth month, 1819.)
The substance of a remarkable dream, related by the late R. Bawpers, of Danvers, who committed it to writing from the lips of the person who had the dream, on the evening of Fifth month 30th, 1813.
'^A gospel minister of Evangelical principles, whose name, from the circumstances that occurred, it will be necessary to conceal, being much fatigued at the conclu- sion of the afternoon service, retired to his apartment, in order to take a little rest. He had not long reclined upon his couch, before he fell asleep, and began to dream.
" He dreamed, that on walking into his garden he entered a bower that had been erected in it, where he sat down to read and meditate. While thus employed, he thought he heard some person enter the garden, and leaving his labors, he immediately hastened towards the spot whence the sound seemed to come, in order to
50 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
discover who it was that had entered. He had not proceeded far before he discovered a particular friend of his, a gospel minister of considerable talents, who had rendered himself very popular by his zealous and unwearied exertions in the cause of Christ. On approach- ing his friend he was surprised to find that his counte- nance was covered with gloom, which it had not been accustomed to wear, and that it strongly indicated a violent agitation of mind, apparently arising from con- scious remorse. After the usual salutation had passed, his friend asked the relator the time of day, to which he replied, 'Twenty-five minutes after four o'clock.' On hearing this, his friend said, ' It is only one hour since I died, and now I am damned I' ' Damned ! for what ?' inquired the dreaming minister. 'It is not,' said he, 'because I have not preached the gospel, neither is it because I have not been rendered useful, for I have now many seals to my ministry, who can bear testimony to the truth as it is in Jesus, which they have received from my lips ; but it is because I have been accumulating to myself the applause of men, more than the honor which cometh from above ; and wisely I have my reward.' Having uttered these expressions, he hastily disappeared, and was seen no more.
" The minister awakened shortly afterwards, with this dream deeply impressed upon his mind, and proceeded, overwhelmed with serious reflection, toward his chapel, in order to conduct the evening service. On his way thither, he was asked if he had heard of the great loss the Church had sustained by the death of that able minister. He replied ' No,' but being much afi*ected with this singular intelligence, he inquired on what day his death took place. To this his friend replied, ' This after- noon, at twenty-five minutes after three o'clock.' "...
MEMOIRS OF THOMAS SCATTERGOOD. 51
EXTRACT FROM ** MEMOIRS OF THOMAS SCATTERGOOD."
At our last Quarterly Meeting, our beloved friend Thomas Scattergood, in the course of his public testi- mony, in moving language, warned the youth present to beware of wanton behavior, dancing, frolicking, &c., stating that he had known several instances of divine displeasure being manifested to individuals, who had attended such meetings as these, and directly afterwards had gone to horse-races, or other sinful pastime. One instance he mentioned, of a young man who, on his way home from a favored meeting, falling in company with persons who were collected for a horse-race, they urged him to ride one of the horses ; he at first refused, but being pressed by some of them, at length yielded ; and in the race was thrown from the horse, which occasioned his death. He said it appeared to be his business to warn the youth present to beware of such conduct, lest some of them might be made like examples. '' I do not say,'' said he, it will be the case, but I find it my place to proclaim a solemn warning." On third-day our meeting ended.
Twenty-seven persons, chiefly 3^oung people, embarked on board a boat, bound for Sandy Hook ; but before they set off, it was observed that several of them were discouraged, and ready to give it up ; and on their way it was remarked, how dreadful it would be, if any unfavor- able accident should happen after having been at meeting, and hearing the advice then given. On fourth-day they went to view a monument erected over a person of dis- tinction, who, with twelve others, perished there not long before. On fifth-day they walked to the light-house, and
52 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
on their return, went on a narrow reef of sand, which is bare at low water, as also the way to it ; on this they spent some time in walking, &c. At length, observing the tide to run fast, they were alarmed, and concluded to return. But, alas ! the sea had hidden their path, and covered all their way marks ! However, they made the attempt, and as they were pressing on, eleven of them suddenly stepped into the deep, were overwhelmed, as in a moment, and seven of them perished. The others, with the assistance of some of the company who could swim, got to the shore, though almost spent. Four of the bodies were found, and brought up here (Rahway) on sixth-day.
The next day was appointed for their interment, and notice being given, a large concourse of people attended, after which a meeting was held, wherein our beloved friend Thomas Scattergood was enabled to preach the gospel ; pertinently to exhort all present to profit by the present calamity, and feelingly to impart a portion of consolation to those who drank largely of sorrow's streams.
He had not felt eas}^ to return home after our Quarterly Meeting ended ; but waiting in great exercise of mind, was not able to discover the cause of his being thus detained. On sixth-day morning, he retired into a private room, and sitting awhile under the like pressure of exercise, a messenger stepped in with the foregoing sorrowful tidings. Then he could account for the trying dispensation he had passed through, which he related in his discourse to the crowded audience, obsening that it might be said of him, as of Nehemiah, '^ Why art thou sad, seeing thou art not sick?" '' I was not sick/' said he, ''but felt such oppression of exercise, that I thought of taking my bed.''
TOTAL ABSTINENCE. 53
[The ^'four bodies" mentioned above, were those of young women. Thomas Scattergood says, '' We walked down to the landing, and there saw them lying on straw, on the deck, side by side, and a very serious sight it was.
"" 22d. Went to the burial, which was a solemn scene ; such a grave I never saw before — wide enough to lay the bodies of these poor young women side by side, who, but a few days before, were mostly in full health and strength and most or all of them at meeting. Solemn it was to see the coffins, one by one, brought into the graveyard.'^] This was in the Eighth month, 11 Sd.
"TOTAL ABSTINENCE."
A mother, on the green hills of Vermont, stood at her garden gate, holding by her right hand a son of sixteen years, mad with love of the sea. '^ Edward," said she, " they tell me that the great temptation of the seaman's life is drink ; promise me, before you quit your mother's hand; that yon never will drink." Said he — for he told me the story — ^^ I gave her the promise ; I went the broad globe over — Calcutta, the Mediterranean, San Francisco, the Cape of Good Hope, and for forty years, whenever I saw a glass filled with sparkling liquor, my mother's form by the garden gate on the hillside of Vermont, rose up before me, and to-day, at sixty, my lips are innocent of the taste of liquor." Was not that sweet evidence of the power of a single word ? And yet it was but half; for, said he, " Yesterday there came into my counting-room a young man of fort}^, and asked me, ' Do you know me?' * No,- said I. ^ I was brought once,' said he, ' drunk into your presence on shipboard ; you were a passenger ; the
54 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
captain kicked me aside ; 3^011 took me into 3^our berth, kept me there till I had slept off the intoxication, and then 3'ou asked me if I had a mother; I said, never that I knew of; I never had heard a mother's voice. You told me of 3^ours at the garden gate, and to-da3% twenty years later, I am master of one of the finest packets in New York, and I came to ask you to come and see me.' "
SAMUEL FOTHERGILL,
At a Quarterly Meeting in the North of England, re- lated the following :
He had called to visit an Elder ^of the Society, on his death-bed, and found him in great agonj^ and anguish of spirit. He was a man who bore a good character among men, and in the days of his j^outh had been zealous in the discharge of the duties devolving on those who are rightly called to the station he held in the church. As he grew older the ardor of his devotedness declined, 3'et as he retained the form of Godliness, his estimation, in the judgment of his fellow-creatures, was not materi- ally diminished. But now, on his death-bed, the good opinion of others could not satisfy his soul. He told Samuel, that in the days of his j^outh, he had a vision, in which was represented a well-inclosed field of green pasture, well watered, and abounding in flocks of sheep. They were in an excellent condition, and remarkable for the whiteness of their fleecy coA^erings. This fold he was to watch over, he was to care for the flock, see after the hedge, and keep the fountain-head of the water clean. And now, in his old age, he had the vision renewed. He again beheld the fold committed to his care; but oh! the awful change ! The hedge was broken down, the pasture was burnt up, the sheep and lambs which re-
SAMUEL FOTHERGHLL. 55
mained in the inclosure, were poor, weak, and sickly, and a venomous serpent lay in the fountain-head, and poisoned the whole waters. While he considered the change^ he heard a voice saying, ''All this will I require at thy hands." After narrating this, he told Samuel, that in looking to the future, he could see nothing but gloom and darkness.
The following circumstance was related by Samuel Fothergill, on his return to England, after his visit to America :
A Friend, at whose house he lodged when passing through the wilderness, was a widow, and lived with her son, who cultivated a small piece of land, which fur- nished them a frugal subsistence. Their nearest neighbor, who lived a few miles distant through the forest, came early one afternoon to request she would visit his wife, who was taken very ill ; and stay with her while he went for medical advice. With this she complied, and put- ting up in a basket a few needful things for the sick woman, she told her son she did not expect to return before the next morning, and set out and reached the place in safety. With suitable remedies, the invalid soon recovered, and her husband returning, the widow concluded to go home that evening, hoping, as it was a fine moonlight night, that she might pass the forest with- out danger. But on crossing an open glade, she saw a flock of wolves drinking at a pool of water at some dis- tance, which made her sensible of her great rashness, thinking that unless she could pass unobserved, her destruction was inevitable, as no human help was at hand, for though her home was in sight, she belicA'cd her son was in bed, and the cottage fiist. In this strait, she lifted up her heart to God in earnest prayer, that He who had often strengthened and consoled her in many
66 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
troubles, would now be pleased to interpose for her help, and not permit her to be devoured by these savage crea- tures. Her mind became composed, and she ran quickly forward; on crossing a fence, she looked back and per- ceived that one of the wolves had discovered her ; he uttered a shrill cry, and immediately the whole pack was in pursuit.
Meanwhile, her son had retired to rest, but could not sleep ; a strange and unusual anxiety came over his mind, which continually increased ; he arose and made a large fire of wood, which blazed brightly, and he sat down by it. In a short time he thought he heard his mother's voice calling to him, and opening the door, he perceived her, followed by several wolves; one was so near as almost to touch her shoulder with his paw. The sudden light dazzled and checked them, and for a moment they fell back, which gave her time to rush into the house and close the door, when she, with her son, both greatly affected by this deliverance, united in returning thanks for the merciful interposition which had so remarkably preserved her life.
DROVTSINESS.
(Extracted from the "Liife of Thomas Story.")
The week-day Meeting at Pains wick, being on the 18th, I went thither. It was small and heavy in the be- ginning, but ended fresh and lively. The hindrance was drowsiness, a great evil, hindering the living worship of the living God, and in which hidden temptation, Satan has greatly prevailed in some places, to the dis- honor of God and hurt of many souls. For if Satan can transform himself into an angel of light, and in that
JOHN BUNYAN. 57
way deceive the simple, and such as know not the true light, how much more may he transform himself into the image of death and darkness, in a dead and drowsy soul; through which as a veil he puts on in a meeting, he also loads and grieves the upright and living ; and where this prevails there can be no worship of God, but rather a yielding and bowing to the enemy, whereby all wor- ship of God is much more effectually suppressed, than by all the powers of the earth in times of their open opposition and persecution.
JOHN BUNYAN.
It being well known to some of his persecutors in London, that Bunyan was often out of prison, they sent an officer to talk with the jailer on the subject, and in order to find him out, he was to get there in the middle of the night. Bunyan was at home with his family, but so restless he could not sleep ; he acquainted his wife, that though the jailer had given him liberty to stay till the morning, he felt so uneasy, he must immediatel}^ return. He did so, and the jailer blamed him for coming in at so unseasonable an hour. Early in the morning the messenger came, and interrogating the jailer, said, "Are all the prisoners safe?" " Yes." ^' Is John Bunyan safe?" "Yes." "Let me see him." He was called, appeared, and all was well. After the messenger was gone, the jailer, addressing Bunyan, said, " Well you may go out again just when j^ou think proper, for 3^ou know when to return better than I can tell you."
58 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
MATTHEW WARREN.
Matthew Warren, a pious man, was, during the reign of Charles II and James II, an object of great hatred to the ruling powers, because of his religious principles. His person was often sought for by wicked men, with the intent, if possible, to bring him to an ignominious death. At one time he was very remarkably and provi- dentially preserved. His wife had a strong impression on her mind, that unless he left the house in which he at that time found shelter, before a particular hour, he would be taken prisoner. Under this impression, she sent a messenger to him with a letter, stating her desire that he would be at his own house at the hour specified, or else he might never see her more. Supposing her ill, he immediately took leave of his friend, and set out homewards. From the summit of the first ascent, he looked back towards the house he had left, and found it surrounded by the persons who were seeking his life.
A DREAM.
(From the Journal of Thomas Chalkley.)
After visiting Friends in America, " in the love of the gospel," Thomas Chalkley sailed, in the winter of 1698-9, on his return to England. Elizabeth Webb and Eliza- beth Lloyd went in the same vessel. After they had been several, weeks at sea, Thomas Chalkley wrote in his journal, as follows, viz. :
We had several good meetings, wherein we gave glory to God, our Saviour ; and forever let it ascend to Him over all, saith my soul ! Contrary winds are com-
A DREAM. 59
monly tedious at sea, but especially to those that know not where to stay their minds ; but there being several Friends of us on board, we had oftentimes good meetings; and if any of our ship's company came to meeting, they always wei^e sober, and sometimes tender ; and truly God's love was extended towards them. When it was not our meeting days, we spent not our time idly, but for the most part in reading the Holy Scriptures, writing, &c., in which we were at seasons greatly refreshed, strengthened, and comforted. Oh! my soul! glorify God thy Maker, and Christ thy Saviour forever, in the sense of his goodness and mercy, both by sea and land, by night and by day ! After we had been almost seven weeks at sea, we thought that we were near the land ; but we sounded several days, and found no bottom, although we let out abundance of line, I think above three hundred yards.
About this time our doctor dreamed a dream, which he related to me to this effect. He said, '' he dreamed that he went on shore at a great and spacious town, the buildings whereof were high and the streets broad ; and as he went up the street he saw a large sign, on which was written in great golden letters, shame. At the door of the house to which the sign belonged, stood a woman with a can in her hand, who said to him, * Doctor, will you drink ?' He replied, ' With all my heart, for I have not drank anything but water a great while ' (our wine and cider being all spent, having had a long passage), and he drank a hearty draught, which he said made him merry. He went up the street, reeling to and fro, when a grim fellow, coming behind him, clapped liim on tlie shoulder, and told him that he arrested him in the name of the governor of the place. He asked him for what; and said, 'What have I done?' He answered, Tor
60 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
stealing the woman's can.' The can he had indeed, and so he was had before the governor, which was a mighty black dog, the biggest and grimmest that ever he saw in his life ; and witness was brought in against him by an old companion of his, and he was found guilty, and his sentence was to go to prison, and there lie forever." He told me this dream so punctually, and with such an emphasis, that it affected me with serious sadness, and caused my heart to move within me ; for to me the dream seemed true, and the interpretation sure. I then told him he was an ingenious man, and might clearly see the interpretation of that dream, which exactly answered to his state and condition ; which I thus interpreted to him : *^ This great and spacious place, where the buildings were high, and the streets broad, is thy great and high pro- fession. The sign, on which was written shame ^ which thou sawest, and the woman at the door, with the can in her hand, truly represent that great, crying, and shameful sin of drunkenness, which thou knowest to be thy great weakness, which the woman with the can did trvily repre- sent to thee. The grim fellow who arrested thee in the devil's territories, is death, who will assuredly arrest all mortals ; the governor whom thou sawest, representing a great black dog, is certainly the devil, who, after his servants have served him to the full, will torment them eternally in hell." So he got up, as it were in haste, and said, '' God forbid ! it is nothing but a dream." But I told him it was a very significant one, and a warning to him from the Almighty, who sometimes speaks to men by dreams.
In seven weeks after we left sight of the land of America, we saw the Scilly Islands, and next day the land of England, which was a comfortable sight to us ; in that God Almighty had preserved us hitherto, and
A BREAM. 61
thai we were so far on our way. We drove about the Channel's mouth for several days for want of wind; after which the wind came up, and we got as far up the Channel as Lime Bay, and then an easterly wind blew fresh for several days, and we turned to windward, but rather lost than got on our way, which was tiresome and tedious to us.
About this time, being some days after the Doctor's dream, a grievous accident happened to us. Meeting with a Dutch vessel in Lime Bay, a little above the Start, we hailed her and she us. They said they came from Lisbon and were bound for Holland. She was loaded with wine, brandy, fruit, and such like commod- ities, and we having but little water to drink, b}^ reason our passage was longer than we expected, we sent our boat on board, in order to buy a little wine to drink with our water. Our Doctor, and a merchant wlio was a passenger, and one sailor, went on board, where they staid until some of them were overcome with wine, although they were desired to beware thereof. When they came back, a rope was handed to them, but they being filled with wine to excess, were not capable of using it dexterously, insomuch that they overset the boat, and she turned bottom upwards, having the Doctor under her. The merchant caught hold of a rope called the main sheet, whereby his life was saved. The sailor not getting so much drink as the other two, got nimbly on the bottom of the boat, and floated on the water till our other boat was hoisted out, which was done with great speed, and we took him in; but the Doctor Avas drowned before the boat came. The seaman who sat on the boat saw him sink but could not help him. This was the greatest exercise that we met with in all our voyage, and the more so, because the Doctor was of an
62 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
evil life and conversation, much given to excess in drinking. When he got on board the aforesaid ship, the master sent for a can of wine, and said, ''Doctor, will 3'ou drink ? '' He replied, " Yes, with all my heart, for I have drank no wine for a great while;" upon which he drank a hearty draught, that made him merry, as he said in his dream ; and notwithstanding the admonition which was so clearl}^ manifested to him but three days before, and the many promises he had made to Almighty God, some of which I was a witness of when strong con- victions were upon him, yet now he was unhappily over- come, and in drink when he was drowned. This is, I think, a lively representation of the tender mercy and just judgment of the Almighty to poor mortals, and I thought it worthy to be recorded for posterity, as a warning to all great lovers of wine and strong liquors. This exercise was so great to me that I could not for several days get over it, and one day while I was mu- sing in my mind on these things relating to the Doctor, it was opened to me that God and his servants were clear, and his blood was on his own head, for he had been faithfully warned of his evil ways.
We were obliged by contrary winds to put into Ply- mouth Harbor, and from Plymouth I went by coach to London, where I was gladly received by my relations and friends. I got to the Yearlj' Meeting of Friends in London, in the year 1699, which was large, and was at divers public meetings for the worship of Almighty God. I may truly say the Holy Ghost was amongst us, blessed be God, our Saviour, for evermore.
Xote. — Thomas Chalkley was at this time in the 24th year of his age.
SILENT REBUKE. 63
SILENT REBUKE.
About the year 1Y81, when Friends in Yirginia were endeavoring to withdraw their members from the practice of holding slaves, C. Moreman was living not far from Cedar Greek. He owned a farm and held a number of slaves. It appears he was circumstanced as were many other slaveholders, just able to live, without increasing his estate. The Yearly Meeting of Yirginia at that time appointed a committee to visit all the members within the limits of that meeting who were in the posses- sion of slaves. C. Moreman was very indignant at what he considered an impertinent interference with private property, and as he could only make a living with his slaves to assist him, it seemed probable he could not support himself vjithout them. During five or six weeks which elapsed after the appointment, his mind was agi- tated by a host of angry passions. Sometimes he thought, if Friends should come to his house, he would turn them out of doors, or if they came when he was out, he would stay out, and not afford them an opportunity of speak- ing, with him.
At length he was informed the committee w^ere at his house, and notwithstanding his previous resolutions, he did not feel quite stubborn enough to carry them out. On meeting the Friends, they accosted him in a very friendly manner, and informed him that as they were visiting their friends, they had taken the liberty of call- ing upon him, and if he would be so kind as to give them and their horses something to eat, it would be gratefully accepted. This amicable commencement of an unwelcome visit had considerable ellect towards softening C. Moreman 's feelings, and his Yirginia hospi-
64 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
tality could not refuse their request. Therefore the horses were fed, and a dinner prepared for themselves. After the repast was over, the committee and their irritable host sat down together in silence, the latter being ready to fire the moment the battle should begin.
After silence had continued for a time, one of the com- mittee whispered to another, till the whisper had gone round, when one of them observed that they had been kindly entertained, and if they had their horses they would ride. Their horses being brought, the Friends took an affectionate leave of their host, and, without saying a word about his slaves, left him to his own re- flections. This mode of treating the case was probably a more severe rebuke than could have been administered by words. C. Moreman began to reflect upon the vile- ness of his own mind, which had been for several weeks working like a troubled sea, and throwing up mire and dirt to cast upon a number of inoflensive Friends, who evidently had nothing in their hearts but love towards him, and who had said nothing to disturb the possession of his slaves.
These reflections were well calculated to suggest the suspicion, that slaveholding was not quite so just a practice as he had imagined, and that very possibly those who were striving, in the spirit of love, to withdraw their friends from it, might be much nearer the Kingdom than those who were inclined to enlist their vilest pas- sions in its defence. While his mind was under the uneasy feelings which these circumstances excited, he dreamed one night that he was on the side of a dreadful precipice, and laboring to attain the summit, but when he reached the top, he found a little black bo}^, one of his slaves, was there and pushed him down again. He then scrambled along to another point of the summit,
CLARKE STEVENS. 65
but still the little slave, running along tlie ridge, was there before him and pushed him back. When he awoke he found himself wet with sweat, as if he had been at work in a harvest field. This dream, in conjunction with his previous reflections, so wrought upon him, that he concluded to emancipate all the slaves he had, and car- ried this conclusion into effect.
Being a man of considerable mechanical ingenuity, he made a kind of tub mill, for which the situation of the country created a demand, perhaps to grind Indian corn into hominy. As land was cheap and mechanical skill dear, he soon saved money enough to purchase another farm ; and when the country was sufficiently furnished with tub mills, he took up another mechanical employ- ment, and was soon able to purchase a third farm. He then felt himself an independent man, having three farms and but two children , and gave it as his opinion that if he had retained his slaves, he would never have possessed more than one farm.
He had also the consolation of believing he was no longer in danger of being tumbled down the precipice, and having his neck broken, by the hands of a. little slave.
CLARKE STEVENS.
Clarke Stevens was an approved minister in the So- ciet}^ of Friends, residing at Montpelier, within the limits of Ferrisburg Quarterly Meeting, Vermont. Once, when from home in Truth's service, he felt a concern to appoint a meeting at a place where the inhabitants were very rough and uncivil. The Friends with whom he con- ferred on the subject hesitated, it appearing so unlikely that truth would find a place with such ii }>eoplo. and
66 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
having fears as to the result of appointing a meeting. Not meeting with encouragement, lie retired for the night, but next morning told his friends he felt best to relate to them a little incident which occurred in Xew England, in an earl}' ^^J^ when slaves were held there.
The son of a slaveholder had been educated for a preacher, and when his literary qualifications were com- pleted, received invitations from two congregations to settle with them. One was wealthy and could offer large inducements of a pecuniar}^ nature ; the other, being poor, could not make such flattering propositions.
The young man was somewhat perplexed, and applied to his father for advice. After some consultation he turned to an old slave who sat in a corner, and said, '' Well, Cuffee, what do 3'ou think about it ?" " Oh, mas- ter," said the slave, '^ never mind so much about the money, go where there is most devil."
The Friends saw the point, felt the rebuke, and were willing he should pursue his prospect ; which he did to satisfaction, having a favored meeting.
DEBORAH MORRIS'S WILL.
Deborah Morris, a Friend, who died about the year 1800, preserved a family' anecdote, by reciting it in her will, viz. :
'-^Item, — I give to my nephew, Thomas Morris, the large old-fashioned silver salver, which belonged to m}" dear aunt, Elizabeth Hard, who with her husband came over (to Pennsylvania) with William Penn and other Friends. All that arrived in those early days wanted lodgings in the then wilderness, and hastened to provide themselves with temporary accommodations. Few of the first settlers
I
DEBORAH morris's WILL. 67
were of the laboring class, and help of that sort was scarcely to be had at any price, so that many of the women set to work they had never known before.
" My good great-annt (Hard) was accnstomed to help her husband at building, and took one end of the crosscut saw with him ; she also fetched water for the mortar, wherewith to build the chimney for their cave. At one time her husband, perceiving her to be overwearied, said to her, ' My dear, thou hadst better give over and see about dinner.' On which, poor woman, she walked away, weeping as she went, for she knew their provisions were all spent, of wdiich she had not told her husband, except a small quantity of biscuit and a little cheese ; but she thought she would try if any of her neighbors had anything to spare.
'' While reflecting on herself as she went along, for coming to America, to be exposed to such hardships, she felt reproved in her mind for distrusting a kind Providence who had hitherto provided for them. In this humble state she reached her cave, and on her knees begged forgiveness for having murmured against the will of her Heavenly Father.
^' When she arose to go and call on her friends to ask their charity, the cat came home from a foraging expe- dition, bringing a fine rabbit in its mouth, wiiich she thankfully took, and proceeded to dress it as an English hare. When her husband was informed of the fiict, they both wept with reverential jo}^, and thankfully partook of the food so seasonably provided for them.''
Deborah Morris also bequeathed to her uncle, John Morris, another family relic — a silver tureen, upon which was engraved the device of the cat bringing home a rabbit in its moutli.
68 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
ANTHONY B E N E Z E T .
Aiitiiony Benezet died Fifth month 3d, 1784, aged tl 3^ears. His funeral was attended by persons of all classes and sects. Among them were hundreds of blacks, who truly mourned the loss of their beloved benefactor and friend. An officer in the American army, who followed the body to its final resting-place, remarked to a friend, '' I would rather be Anthony Benezet in that coffin, than General Washinsfton with all his fame.*'
HU:^IE, THE INFIDEL.
Hume, the celebrated infidel philosopher, and author of a History of England, was dining at the house of an intimate friend. After dinner the ladies withdrew, and, in the course of conversation, Hume made some asser- tions which caused a gentleman present to observe to him, '' If you can advance snch sentiments as those, j^ou certainly are what the world gives you credit for being, an infidel.*' A little girl whom the philosopher had often noticed, and with whom he had become a favorite, by bringing her little presents of toys and sweetmeats, happened to be playing about the room unnoticed ; she, however, listened to the conversation, and on hearing the above expression, left the room, went to her mother, and asked her, '' Mamma, what is an infidel ?'' ^'An infidel! my dear,*' replied her mother; ''why should you ask such a question? An infidel is so awful a character that I scarcely know how to answer you." '' Oh, do tell me, mamma,'* returned the child, *' I must know what an infidel is.*' Struck with her earnestness, her mother replied, "An infidel is one who believes there is no God.
HUME, THE INFIDEL. 69
no heaven, no hell, no hereafter." Some da^s afterwards, Hume again visited the house of his friend ; on entering the parlor he found no one there but his favorite little girl ; he went to her, and attempted to take her up in his arms to kiss her, as he had been used to do, but the child shrunk with horror from his touch. '' My dear,'' said he, '' wiiat is the matter? do I hurt 3^ou?" " Xo," she replied, *'you do not hurt me, but I cannot kiss jou, I cannot play with j^ou.'' ''Why not, my dear?" '^ Because you are an infidel." *'An infidel ! what is that?" '' One who believes there is no God, no heaven, no hell, no hereafter." ''And are you not sorry for me, my dear?" asked the astonished philosopher. '' Yes, indeed, lam sorr}'," returned the child, with solemnity, '^ and I pray to God for you." ''Do you, indeed? and what do you say?" " I say, 0 God, teach this man that Thou art!"
What a striking illustration of the words of sacred writ, " Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength, because of thine enemies, that thou mightest still the enemy and avenger." (Vs. 8: 2.)
The infidel confessed himself so much struck with the seriousness and simplicity of the child, that it caused him some sleepless nights and days of sharp mental conflict. However, it is to be lamented that he stifled his conviction, and went on to the very borders of eternity, vainly flattering himself that he should prove " like the beasts that perish."
" From the statements of Adam Smith, it would appear as though David Hume had approached the confines of life with the same thouglitless levity, resi>ectiug his eternal interests, as he had manifested through liis life. Silliman, however, upon visiting tiie neigliborhood in which his last days were spent, a few years afti'rwards,
70 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
received a statement, derived from his nurse, which shows that the philosophy as well as the levity of Hume deserted him when the final moment came ; and that, however lightly he seemed to look upon death when it was at a little distance, he died at last in horror."
THOMAS WARIKG.
Thomas Waring, of West Nottingham, Maryland, was the son of Joseph and Mary Waring, of the county of Wexford, Ireland. He removed to this country with his parents and family in the year 17*75, being then in the 21st 3^ear of his age.
He spent seven winters with his parents at East Not- tingham, in the line of his trade, which was that of a dish turner ; and the summers were passed in farming on shares for Joseph Chambers, on White Clay Creek, within the limits of a meeting then held at Stanton, a component part of Wilmington Monthly Meeting. In these seven years he had fourteen certificates of removal ; on changing his residence spring and fall, if he did not request for himself. Friends would send one after him. Such was their care in those days. During the time he farmed for Joseph Chambers, it is said they disagreed but once, and that was in dividing the last crop, when each thought the other did not take enough.
He subsequently settled in West Nottingham, where he passed the remainder of his life ; he and his unmar- ried sisters, Hannah and Mary, were severally taken from mutability in the 88th ^^ear of their age. An elder sister, Elizabeth Martin, and his wife Hebekah, daughter of Stephen and Martha Wilson, of Bucks County, Pa., were taken in their 91st year. The latter survived him nearly twelve years.
THOMAS AVARTNG. 71
When a 3^oung man, he had occasion to attend court at Elkton,and not being easy to comply with the custom of taking off the hat in honor to man, he several times had his taken off in court. One day, as he was standing in diffidence by the door, in the court-room, the crier came to him, and placing his hand on his shoulder, queried, ''Are you a real Quaker ?" T. W. — " I profess to be one." Crier. — "If you are a real Quaker 3^ou may keep your hat on." T. W. — " By what authority dost thou give me that information?" Crier. — " The court has taken it into consideration, and concluded that real Quakers may keep their hats on." Then turning to a member standing by, who did not always keep to the plain language, he added, '' But you shall take your hat
off:'
Among the occurrences in his early life are the fol- lowing : He was once at work with a man he had hired, who gave him abusive language. He desired him to desist, but the abuse continuing, he presently found himself with the man prostrate on his back, and he on him, holding him down. He afterwards remarked that he was much alarmed by finding himself in that position, and thought the man was as much so. It was a lesson of warning and instruction to him, showing the import- ance of being at all times guarded and on the watch ; and by attention thereto, with best help afforded, he was enabled to overcome his naturally strong and irritabU^ disposition, so that in more advanced life, an acquaint- ance remarked, he thought " Thomas hadn't quite temper enough."
At one time, a woman Friend in the station of Elder, (a member of the same Monthl}^ Meeting as liimseir), was given to drowsiness in meetings. He wns led to believe it required of him to speak to her on the subject,
1-2 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY FIVE.
but made many excuses; still, being unable to feel clear of the concern, he one da}- concluded, as he rode to meeting on horseback, if it was a right concern he would meet with her by the way. As he passed into the road near her residence, she came out on horseback, and they rode some distance together, but still failing to comply with the impression of duty, he was for some time after- wards visited with the same weakness, and looked upon it as a judgment for his disobedience.
When Thomas "Waring came to this country in ltT5, grass and grain were cut with scythes and sickles, requiring many hands to perform the labor, and it was generally thought that rum was indispensable, to enable the laborers to perform the work. A stranger in the countr}^, he fell in with the custom for a year or two, but finding the effect not good, the third year he entirely declined it, which in harvest often exposed him to the ridicule of those he was working with ; and because he would not drink, they frequently used extra efforts to make him give out, but never succeeded in a single instance ; while some of those who took rum almost invariably gave out in making such efforts ; a circum- stance he referred to in after-life, as an argument against the use of strong drink, saying he felt better when he arose in the morning, and through the day, and his thirst was less than when he had participated in its use. From that time forward he was not in the habit of using it himself, except as medicine, or of allowing any in his employ to use it.
A Friend by the name of W purchased a farm in
the neighborhood, and Thomas going his security for the purchase-money, had it to pay ; afterwards, by mutual
agreement, he took the farm to save himself. W
then moved to Ohio, and died there^ leaving a widoT^^
THOMAS WARING* 73
with a large family of children. M. T., a member of another religious j)ersuasion, having sold a farm and received $500 of the purchase-money, came to Thomas and bought this farm of him, paying him $50 in hand, with stipulations for the balance. Some da3's after this, M. T, came to throw up his purchase, saying he could not compl}^, as his farm was thrown up ; but one thing was certain, he would keep the $500 he had received on it, yet he wanted Thomas to pay him back the $50. He did so with interest. Afterwards selling the farm for more than it cost him, he sent part of the money to the widow of W — — , and had the satisfaction of hearing she had it at interest in a way to be relieving in the support of her numerous famil3^
From "Ths Friend."
'' Departed this life (First month 26th, 1842) Thomas Waring, an esteemed elder and member of Nottingham and Little Britain Monthly Meeting, in the 88th year of his age. It is with no ordinary feelings we thus announce to his distant friends and acquaintances, a termination of the labors and usefulness of this, our beloved Friend, whose dedication and devotedness through a long life, have set forth so striking and encouraging an example to his survivors, speaking to them in the expressive language of conduct, ' Follow me, as I have endeavored to follow Christ.' Throughout a painful and lingering disease, of a cancerous affection, his patience and resignation bore a striking exemplification of the Christian character. The morning before his departure, though apparently not so near his end, he told his family he believed he should not live to see another da}, lie appeared desirous of having them collected around him, as if to witness the closing scene. He was perfectly calm and composed.
74 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
His last moments of consciousness were dedicated in supplication for himself, and for tliose he left behind. Thus has he been gathered, we humbly believe, as a ^ shock of corn fully ripe,' into the garner of eternal rest, there to enjoy in endless fruition the reward laid up for the righteous. His genuine piety, and unobtrusive life and conversation , had endeared him to his neighbors, and all who knew him. His memor}^ is sweetly embalmed in their affections, as was abundantly evinced in the spontaneous effusion of feeling, by a very large concourse, assembled to pay the last solemn tribute to his memory. ^Mark the perfect man and behold the upright, for the end of that man is peace.' "
GEOEGE WHITEFIELD, ETC.
Some of the early Methodists were much persecuted for their faithfulness in apprehended duty. At Not- tingham, England, George Whitefield's meetings were attended by '' great multitudes," who thronged every avenue to the place. In some places, he said, '' Satan rallied, giving notice of me by calling the people to a bear baiting ; a drum is beat, and men are called to the market-place ; but the arrows of the Lord can disperse them."
At Rotherham several young men met at a tavern, and undertook, on a wager, to see who could best mimic him ; each in turn mounted the table, and opening a Bible, entertained his companions at the expense of everything sacred. A youth by the name of Thorpe was to close the scene ; and he exclaimed, on taking his stand, '' I shall beat you all." Opening the Bible, his eye fell on the solemn sentence, " Except ye repent, ye shall all like- wise perish," It pierced the young man's soul. The
AN infidel's death-bed. 75
Truth mastered him. He spoke, but it was like a dying man to dying men. A profound seriousness spread over the company, and those who came to scoffs went away to weep. He afterwards became a preacher, as did also his son, "William Thorpe. (About 1750.)
It was probably at an earlier period, that one of the most violent opposers of Grimshaw and Ingham, was the vicar of Colne, a town on the borders of Yorkshire. On hearing of the arrival of any such preachers in his neigh- borhood, he used to call the people together b}^ the beat- ing of a drum in the market-place, and enlisting a mob for the defence of the church. One of his proclamations to this end is curious, viz. :
^' Notice is hereby given, that if any man be mindful to enlist in his Majesty's ser\dce under the command of Rev. George White, commander-in-chief, and John Banister, lieutenant-general of his Majesty's forces for the defence of the Church of England, and the support of the manufactory in and about Colne, both of which are now in danger, let him repair to the drumhead at the cross, where each man shall receive a pint of ale in ad- vance, and all other proper encouragement."
The reckless fury of a force thus enlisted may be im- agined. The preachers and hearers were often pelted with stones and dirt, trampled into the mud, and beaten without mercy ; the constables rivalling the vicar in his violence and hatred against them.
AN INFIDEL'S DEATH-BED.
Some years ago, an individual well known and higlily respected in the religious world, narrated in my hearing the following incident : " In early life, while, with a col-
76 . GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
lege companion, he was making a tour on the Continent, at Paris his friend was seized with an alarming illness. A physician of great celebrity was speedily summoned, who stated that the case was a critical one, and that much would depend upon a minute attention to his di- rections. As there was no one at hand upon whom they could place much reliance, he was requested to recom- mend some confidential and experienced nurse. He mentioned one, but added, ' You may think yourselves happy indeed should you be able to secure her services ; but she is so much in request among the higher circles here, that there is little chance of finding her disen- gaged.' The narrator at once ordered his carriage, went to her residence, and much to his satisfaction found her at home. He briefly stated his errand, and requested her immediate attendance. ^ But before I consent to accompany you, permit me, sir,' said she, 'to ask you a single question: is your friend a Christian?' 'Yes,' he replied, 'indeed he is a Christian in the best and highest sense of the term, a man who lives in the fear of God. But I should like to know 3 our reason for such an inquiry.' ' Sir,' she answered, ' I was the nurse that attended Yoltaire in his last illness, and for all the wealth of Europe I would never see another infidel die.'" — Ford^s Damascus,
A MURDER PREVENTED.
A respectable tradesman, named Rich, in the North of England, had in his employ three young men, Mat- thew, James, and Samuel. Matthew w^as a pious man, and in all respects a good servant. But James and Samuel were artful and wicked men, who ate at the table and lived in the house of the man they meant to injure.
A MURDER PREVENTED. 77
At length James and Samuel entered into business on tlieir own account, in a neighboring town ; but still dealt with the wholesale house of their former employer. Matthew continued in his situation for years, and when the duties of traveller were to be performed, they fell upon him. Time passed on, James and Samuel w^ere settled, and in relation to their former employer ap- peared most amicable, when a remarkable incident occurred.
'''' It was midwinter ; the day had been wet and the night was dreary, when Matthew, after a long ride on horseback, was returning home, having collected a con- siderable sum of money ; and taking the shortest road, he had to ford a small brook. But when he reached the midst of the stream, his horse suddenly stopped, and restively refused to proceed, nor could he b}" any means induce him to go forward. Nothing remained but to take another road, which delayed and somewhat anno3'ed him, but be arrived safely at home. The next da}^ was the first of the week, and Matthew generally attended public worship thrice on that da}^, but he was so much fatigued, he proposed staying at home in the afternoon, while the family went out. His proposal was accepted, and he was left alone in the house, but instead of taking repose, as he at first inclined to, he resolved to spend a little time in private devotion. He therefore read his Bible, and knelt in prayer and found it good for him to draw nigh unto God. It was a favored season, but liow long he continued in prayer he knew not. Rising from his knees, he said, 'This is none other than the House of God, and this is the Gate of Heaven.'
''As soon as Rich came in, he perceived that some one had been to the bureau in which the money had been deposited, and on examining found the entire sum had
78 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
disappeared. Matthew asserted he had not taken it, nor was he suspected, but the money was gone, and some one must haAX taken it. While conversing on the sub- ject, a noise was heard, and hastening to discover the cause, they saw a man escaping from the neighboring premises, and had no doubt that he was the thief, but he eluded their pursuit. The money was in local bank notes, the numbers known, and jDayment was stopped at the bank. Months passed away, when Pvich received a message from the bank, requesting his presence imme- diately. He went, and learned that James and Samuel, having presented the missing notes, were detained. He required them to state how they came possessed of the money — to clear themselves of suspicion, or confess their guilt — assuring them that in the latter case, there would be no prosecution. Their deposition was as follows :
" ' On the da}^ preceding the robbery, when Matthew called on them, they thought he had a large sum of money with him, and resolved to waylay and rob him. They therefore provided arms, and were awaiting him when the horse refused to ford the brook ; but when thus far defeated, they managed to get that night into the house, where they remained in concealment until the afternoon, when they supposed all the famil}^ had left the house. They then entered the room in which they knew the money was usually kept, but it was not, as they had hoped, unoccupied.
" ' Matthew was there, and on his knees. What was to be done. No time must be lost. The money they were determined to have ; so one placed himself, pistol in hand, by the man at prayer, while the other jDroceeded to rifle the bureau. That was a critical moment, for had Matthew in any way indicated that he was aware of their
MARTHA ROUTH. 79
presence, or attempted to rise from his knees, he would have been shot. But he perceived them not, so they escaped with the booty, and his life was saved/"
It was impossible to listen to their recital without a shudder, and while their former employer felt deeply such a marked interposition of Providence, he looked on those who had been guilty of such an enormity with mingled horror and pity. He remembered it is written, " Ven- geance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord," and was content to leave them to Him. But though capable of such wickedness in secret, they would not attempt to live where their guilt was known. A little time sufficed to settle their affairs, and then they left the country never to return.
t MARTHA ROUTH.
(Extracted from her Journal.)
IT 95. llth of Fourth month. First day, we were at Cool Spring ; on second day, at Three Runs ; third, at Motherkiln ; in all which exercising labor was assigned ; the latter in particular was a very large, mixed gathering, in which were many black people. Strength was given to divide the word to the different states ; and I humbly trust it was a time thankfully to be remembered. The praise thereof was given to the Holy Head of the church, to whom alone it belonged. We went to Warner MifMin's to dine, with several other friends, and feeling an exer- cise that drew to silence, I found it right to give way to it, and it became general with those present, among whom were several young people ; but very unexpected indeed were the remarks I had to make of the state of some we read of, who had made a covenant with death, and were at an agreement with hell. The secret contiiet of my mind was great, in having such a passage to mention in a small
80 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
company, among whom appeared little A'isible sign of deviation. I was informed some weeks after, that a young woman then present, the only child of a valiiable minister, married, the same week, a man of deistical principles, and ordinary character.
ROWLAND HILL.
Kowland Hill was the sixth son of Sir Rowland Hill, Baronet, of Hawkstone, Shropshire. He received '' Dea- con's orders, "in IttS. His successor at ''Surrey Chapel," Sherman, wrote concerning him : '' Yearning over the spiritual miseries of men, he could not confine himself to the more regular and established mode of preaching im a church, but gladly engaged in that work wherever he could gather a congregation, whether in the market-place or in the cathedral, beneath the shade of a tree, or in the dissenting meeting-house ; his object being to win souls to Christ, and ally them to His spiritual church, found in ever}^ visible congregation of His worshippers. After having for some years preached in most of the counties of England, in many of the churches, chapels, and streets of the metropolis, and in the fields and commons of its vicinity, to large and deepl}^ impressed audiences, he determined to erect a chapel in the southern part of London. A liberal subscription was commenced, to which he was the chief contributor." In 1T83 " Surrey Chapel " was opened for Divine worship, and Rowland Hill continued the pastor nearly fifty years— until his death, which occurred in 1833.
The energy of manner of Rowland Hill, and the power of his voice, are said to have been at times overwhelming. Once, while preaching at Wotton-under-Edge, his country residence, he was carried awa}" by the impetuous rush of his feelings, and raising himself to his full height, ex-
ROWLAND HILL. 81
claimed, "Beware, I am in earnest; men call me an enthusiast, but I am not ; mine are words of truth and soberness. When I first came into this part of the country, I was walking on yonder hill ; I saw a gravel- pit fall in and bury three human beings alive. I lifted up my voice so loud, that I was heard to the town below, a distance of a mile. Help came and rescued two of the poor sufferers. No one called me an enthusiast then, and when I see eternal destruction ready to fall upon poor sinners, and about to entomb them irrevocably in an eternal mass of woe, and call on them to escape, by repenting and fleeing to Christ, shall I be called an enthusiast ? No, sinner, I am not an enthusiast in so doing."
To a friend Rowland Hill wrote : " Fine affected flourishes and unmeaning rant are poor substitutes for plain, simple, unaffected gospel truths ; yet such sort of preaching will have its admirers ; and it is surprising what strange stuff, of different sorts, will make up a pop- ular preacher ; insomuch that being registered in that number, should rather fill us with shame than with pride."
When asked his opinion of the excitement produced by a certain preacher, he said, " This cannot last ; he is like a skyrocket that goes off blazing into the air, but the dry stick soon falls to the ground and is forgotten."
" How different," said he, " the poor tools of ministers of our manufacturing, when compared with the burning and shining lights the Lord can send forth."
On a tour in Yorkshire, Rowland Hill paid a visit to an old friend of his, who said to him : " It is just sixt}^ five years since I first heard you preach, and I remember your text, and part of your sermon." " Tis more than I do," was the reply. " You told us," his friend pro-
82 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
ceeded, " that some, people were very squeamish about the delivery of different ministers, who preached the same gospel. You said, ' Suppose you were attending to hear a will read, where you expected a legacy to be left you, would you employ the time when it was reading in criticising the manner in which the lawyer read it ? No, you would not, you would be giving all ear to hear if anj^- thing was left to you^ and how much it was. That is the way I would advise you to hear the gospel.' "
In his 8 2d year, he remarked, " The older I grow, the more I feel my need of the Saviour, and the only evi- dence I have of my interest in Him, is the life-giving in- fluence of a living Kedeemer on my heart — w^e know that we are His, by the spirit which He hath given us. 0 fine expression — because I live^ ye shall live also. If Jesus lives in our hearts by faith, then, and then only, can you say, / know that my Redeemer livetJu This language belongs only to those who are dead indeed unto sin^ but alive unto God, through Jesus Christ, their living and life-giving Lord."
Extract of a Letter from John Ber ridge to Rowland Hill,
" Luther used to say, ' when the Lord had fresh work for him, a strong trial was sent beforehand, to prepare him for it b}^ humiliation.' Study not to be a fine preacher; Jerichos are blown down with rams' horns. Look simply unto Jesus for preaching food, and what is wanted will be given, and what is given will be blessed, whether it be a barley or a wheaten loaf, a crust or a crumb." (Probably in 1773.)
During the political riots which broke out in England in 1Y80, threatening the peace of the realm, Rowland Hill often went to St. George's Fields, in the southern
INDIAN DISCOURSE. 83
suburbs of London, a place of disorderly assemblages and seditious vigils, and addressed vast concourses of discontented and starving workmen, upon the verities of the world to come. His intrepid addresses were charged with hidden power ; they pierced the consciences of men hungry for bread and heated with political excitement ; the grievances of the present life, great as they seemed to be, and great as they really were, sank into compara- tive insignificance before the momentous interests of the life to come. Stout hearts gave way ; a cry went up for the bread of life, and they who had nothing to expect from earthly sovereigns, gained access to the Throne of Crrace. Nor is it surprising that hatred and spite aimed their shafts at the bold , yet true , reformer. Often he was pelted with stones, lampooned, or burnt in ef^gjj which, with the displeasure of his parents, and the undisguised uneasiness felt by many of his true yet timid friends, might have damped a heart less resolutely devoted to his Master's cause.
INDIAN DISCOUKSE
AT A FUNERAL ON THE ALLEGHANY RESERVATION. N. Y.
On the 19th of Third month, 1851, we attended the funeral of Julia Ray's child, aged five months, taking with us Sall}^ Shongo, an Indian girl, about twelve yenrs of age, who had lived with us nearl}^ a year. I desired her to pay particular attention to what might be said, and repeat it to me.
Two daj^s passed before I had an opportunity to speak to her respecting it; she then said she could not tell nie. I observed that I had desired her to remember ; she
84 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
answered she did not forget what Jacob Blacksnake said, but could not tell me. "Why?'' ^' I cannot talk English." I assured her I could understand her, and though often interrupted she gave me (with much apparent serious- ness) the following account :
Jacob Blacksnake said, " That boy never said au}^ bad words, he could not talk, he was too little, he never thought an}" bad thoughts. He had gone away up above, where the Good Man lives ; Julia must not be sorry too much; if she would try to be good, she would see her boy again.
" There are two roads through this world, one straight, the other crooked " (designating the first by tracing a straight line along his left hand, with the fore-finger of his right, the other by making a zig-zag course) ; '' people that go in the straight road, go where the Good Man lives ; and they that go in the crooked one, where the bad man lives ; in an iron house, red-hot." He said, '^ This fire " (pointing to a large one on the hearth behind him) ^' is not hot ; but there it is hot, oh very, very hot.
'' Where the Good Man lives is a very pleasant place ; strawberries and blackberries are there, and birds sing very good ; wind that blows there smells very good ; great many flowers all around where God sits, and He looks what people are doing. He writes it down when people do good, and when they do bad.
" Smells very sweet where God sits. God very sorry when people drink whisky ; when somebody dies, the Good Man comes down and gives something good to eat to good folks ; and when bad folks die, bad man gives them bad things to eat.
" Good Man very happy when a great many good people there ; bad man would be very sorry if no bad folks where he lives.
INDIAN DISCOURSE. 85
^' Children must try to be good ; they will be sorry when they die if they are bad, for they will go to the bad place ; if children tell stories, when they are dead God asks them, how many stories did you tell ? God knows how many ; He knows everything we ss.y. It is very bad to fight ; when two boys fight, God puts His head between them, and when they strike, they hurt God.
'' The sun is getting old now, and this world will soon be burnt up if people are so bad, drink whisky, and tell stories, and steal ; and people that drink whisky, and tell stories, and steal, will go to the bad place ; they should stop, and try to get ready to go where the Good Man lives. If people will be good, the world will stay longer ; it cannot stay longer, if people are so bad.
" You are happy when you go drink whisky, but when you die you won't be happy, for Good Man sa^^s, 3'ou liked whisky, you shall go drink more whisky. The bad man has something he calls whisky ; it is like what people make balls of to put in their guns to shoot, and it is boiling in a big boiler ; he takes some out in a spoon, and pours it into their mouths ; it goes whis-s-s, and runs all the way down them like fire.
^^ Men, women, and children, remember what I say; you must think all the time of what I say ; when I die, and you die, you will be sorry if you don't mind what I say. Children will say, ' My grandfather, Jacob Bhick- snake told me, but I did not mind,' and they will be very sorry when they are dead." (He said more,not distincth' remembered.)
This was shown to an educated Indian, Avho said he did not doubt the translation being in substance correct.
Those Indians do not have regular preachers at their funerals, but sometimes one, sometimes anoth(M-, or two or three speak, Jacob Blacksnake called himsc^lf the
86 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
children's ^' grandfather." The Senecas are divided into what may be called ^' clans," and those belonging to one clan speak of each other as relatives, father, mother, sister, &c. Jacob was a chief, a very intelligent and respectable man, son of '' Governor Blacksnake," who was the oldest and most influential chief on the reser- vation.
IXDIAN WITNESS.
A Seneca Indian was summoned as a witness, before a magistrate in Cattaraugus County, New York. The "Esquire," thinking the Indian appeared stupid, and that probably he did not understand the nature of an oath, queried with him what would be consequence of his giving false testimony. The Indian answered, " May be I be found out, put in jail, and stay there long time; then when I die I catch it againy
His testimony was received.
MEHETABEL JENKINS.
Whilst Mehetabel Jenkins was in England on a relig- ious visit (perhaps in the 3'ear It 81), she attended the circular meeting held at Exeter. Catharine Phillips was also at the meeting, and in the exercise of her beautiful and acceptable gift, spoke largely to those assembled. After Catharine had ceased, Mehetabel, who was an illiterate woman, and not extensive as a minister, stood up and delivered a brief testimony. Some one complained to Timothy Bevington, that such a friend as Mehetabel should speak in such a large meeting. The complainant thought good order required that an opportunity should be taken with Mehetabel, to prevent the possibility of her disturbing large gatherings, and said, the Friend's
CALEB PENNOCK. 87
gift appeared better adapted to small meetings of our own Society. Timothy Bevington, from whom the anec- dote is derived, replied, he believed no harm had been done. It so happened that he had invited a man of some standing in Exeter to attend this circular meeting, who accepted the invitation. Soon after he met Timoth}^, and expressed his warm thanks for the treat he had received. Timothy said he was pleased to find him so well satisfied, adding, ^' My friend Catharine Phillips is considered a great minister.'' ^' Yes," replied his friend, '" we know Mrs. Phillips is a very sensible woman ; we therefore are not surprised to hear her preach a good sermon ; but the few words the elderly lady from America said, were to me far more weighty, and suited to the situation of my mind, than an34hing Mrs. Phillips had to say. I hope to be thankful as long as I live, for the great instruction and sensible feeling of divine goodness I experienced from the sweet, short sermon of your American Friend."
CALEB PENNOCK.
Caleb Pennock was born in East Marlborough, Chester County, Pennsylvania, Ninth month 24th, 1752. During his apprenticeship he met with many temptations, and some unusual trials, in passing through which he was remarkably favored.
After his marriage, being actively engaged in provid- ing for the wants of his family, he did not tVol bound to attend week-day meetings; but became convinced ol' his error, in an opportunity wliicli William eTnckson (in the course of a religious visit to the members of theii* Monthly Meeting) liad in his family. Alluding to tlu' change in his'feelings, lie remarked, " I had now another
88 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
Master, and had to attend both First and week-day meetings." Some time after this he removed with a certificate to Kennet Monthly Meeting, held alternately at Kennet and Centre. The latter place was eight miles from his residence, and thither he frequently walked, entering no house by the way ; and often on these occa-' sions lending his horses to others. He was cautious not to grasp after the things of this world, lest he should lose a better inheritance.
When he became convinced it was the Divine Will he should call others to repentance, he long evaded the requisition, adopting the language of Moses, ^^ Kill me, I pray thee, if thou dealest thus with me ;" but at length gave up his own will, and became a faithful and humble minister of the Gospel. He looked upon his services, both in public and private, with great humility, sa3dng, " We are but as a speck on the earth, in the view of our Almighty Creator, whom we ought ever to obey." He w^as much grieved by the departure from primitive plain- ness and ancient simplicity in dress and furniture, among the members of our Religious Society, which, beginning in cities, spread abroad into the country. He said he felt so discouraged at times, with seeing innova- tions among Friends, that he was ready to wish with the prophet for a hiding-place, beholding with sorrow a backsliding into many things that our predecessors had to renounce through great sufferings, and whose blood may be required at our hands, if we let their testimonies fall. The erroneous use of the plural language to a single person, he thought a mark of great declension ; and was deeply grieved with the practice of some nominal pro- fessors, who taught their children to say the Lord's prayer formally, at going to bed, or other stated periods, kneeling down, &c. In the last Yearly Meeting he at-
I
CALEB PENNOCK. 89
tended (1840), alluding to the alteration in the query on love and unity, he regretted the omission of the words, ^^as becomes the followers of Christ," because in this fellowship w^as the only true unity.
On the 3d of First month, 1843, a young female min- ister (Edith Jeffries) attended Kennet Monthly Meet- ing, and the next day wrote as follows, viz. : "After I did the little that was given me, Caleb (Pennock) arose and took up the same subject, and opened it in another light. He compared our Society to a building that had been torn to pieces; yet he said all was not to be lost, for there were many pieces of plank that were worth saving. These would be taken care of, and would go tow^ards erecting the fabric again, when they had been hewn and squared ; for the building w^as to stand. He alluded to the separation that was past, and said this was not sufficient to humble us ; and now the enemy was permitted to tempt us yet again ; but his power was limited, and we were not about coming to an end; for the testimonies professed by Friends were in ac- cordance with the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and must prevail over all others.
"He was still more striking in the second meeting. The partitions not closing tightly , we could hear very plainly. He was addressing the yoimg men, and, amongst other things, said, the enemy, in order to have successful instruments in his own hand, had tempted many filling high stations among us, and had led them off; so that it might be said, ' The leaders of my people have caused them to err ;' and these were leading away others. The enemy had got up a counterfeit; and not only got it up, but also got it to pass ; and if we expect a counterfeit to pass, it must very nearly resemble tlie thing itself, or it would not do ; but after all it would not bear inspection,
90
GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY FIVE.
however near the resemblance might be ; but, Friends, the true thing will! How original, how true! These are nearl}^ the words^ but the feeling which accompanied them cannot be conve^^ed. We dined together at J. B.'s; and while I sat feasting on his redeemed-looking countenance, he turned to me, and said, ^I have lately been made to believe that the enemy was permitted to follow us to the very gate ; and that we shall not be safe until we get inside of it. And sometimes he tempts me to doubt whether I shall ever get inside, by bringing all the sins of my ^^outh before me, and making me fear that I have never fully repented of them. Ah ! what a sorrowful thing it will be, if, after all my struggling, I should be cut off at last ! But I am sometimes given to feel that it is the work of the enemy, and sometimes I am afraid it is not ; and this brings me very low.' Oh what a lesson was this to me, coming from one that is now in his ninety-first 3^ear, and who, we believe, with- out a doubt, will in a few more days be gathered home unto his fathers in peace. How ought it to teach us that the humble follower is never safe, only so long as he is made to feel the necessity of obeying the command, * Watch and pray,' and that even unto the end. Ma}^ I remember this ! "
On. the day of Western Quarterh^ Meeting in the Eighth month, a number of Friends called to see Caleb Pennock. He appeared pleased that they had thus re- membered him, and stammered falteringiy, " I feel more than I can manifest," &c. He was disabled by a para- lytic stroke a few months previous to his decease, but his faculties appeared to be clear, and he was preserved in much sweetness to the last.
He quietly departed, on the 25th of the Eleventh month, 1843, in the 92d year of his age; and was buried
JACOB LINDLEY. 91
on the 2Tth, at Parkerville, after which a large and memorable meeting was held.
EXTRACTS FROM A JOURNAL OF JACOB LINDLEY.
In the year 1193, Jacob Lindley, a minister in the Society of Friends, residing in New Garden, Chester County, was appointed, with others, to attend an Indian treaty proposed to be held at a place, then a wilderness, and only to be approached by long and sometimes dan- gerous travelling. They were '' absent on this toilsome, exercising journey about four months and a half." Jacob Lindley left an interesting account of the journey, from which the following anecdotes are extracted.
" 12th of Sixth month. — Had a solid conference with David Kennedy, a half Indian, a man of learning and a man of influence. Having been educated in Scotland, he visited London, Jamaica, &c. He lives with the Indians and professes Christianit}^ ; is well versed in the Scrip- tures, and says he has initiated divers into the Christian faith, by a medium widely contrasted with our mode. He told us some Indians used to mock and ridicule his going to church, but at a certain time he undertook to drub them severely, and ordered them and their families to attend church in future, or he would be under the ne- cessity of dealing more sharply with them. On which they appeared the next day of public worship, and had continued steady ever since ; he supposed it the most substantial method of making converts, as also of ending quarrels or disputes. To all which I opposed several texts out of the New Testament ; to tlie validity of which he assented, and strongly avowed his friendship for us, and promised to us(^ his influence, in order to oi^n our
92 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY- FIVE.
way amongst the other nations of his acquaintance, which is extensive.
"19th of Seventh month. — Staid mostly at our lodgings, writing and conversing with some intelligent travellers. One of them related a conversation between one Fro- bisher, a merchant in the northwest trade, when at the Grand Portage, west end of Lake Superior, and an old Indian from the northwest, which so much coincided with my own sentiments, that I note it. Frobisher was inquiring after the curiosities of the northern clime, which the Indian related as far as he had travelled ; but added, that younger Indians, who had travelled further northwest, had seen some things still more wonderful. Frobisher asked him if he did not think some parts of their relation untrue ? The old Indian replied : 'No ; it is not possible it can be lies, for they have never seen a white man in their lives.' •'
A severe reflection on Christians, so called.
A RAY EX IX IT 66.
In the year It 66, the especial interposition of Divine Providence was manifested in a most extraordinary man- ner, to a poor laborer, at Sunderland. This man, being employed in hedging near an old stone quarry, went to eat his dinner, in a deep excavation, in order to be shel- tered from the weather, which was stormy ; and as he went along, pulled off his hedging gloves, and threw them down at some distance from each other. While at his repast, he observed a raven pick up one of them, with which he flew away, and ver}" soon afterwards returned and carried off the other. The man being greatly sur- prised, rose to see if he could trace where the bird had
I
WILLIAM KIKK AND WIFE. 93
gone with his gloves. He scarcely had cleared the quarry, before he saw large fragments of rock, &c., fall down into the very place where he had been seated, and where, if he had continued a minute longer, he must in- evitabl3^ have been crushed to pieces.
A STUDENT AND DUKE.
Doctor J. Fothergill, after having been some time in medical attendance on a titled personage (it is believed a Duke), sent one of his students to visit him. The young man, anxious to find favor in the eyes of the titled patient, assumed a manner and address different from those in which he had been educated. The Duke, in sur- prise, queried if he were not of the same profession with Dr. Fothergill ? and receiving an affirmative answer, de- sired he would leave him, and inform the Doctor he was not disposed to trust his life in the hands of a man who was false to his religious profession.
WILLIAM KIRK AND WIFE.
Early in the last century, William Kirk and his wife removed from the neighborhood of Wilmington (Dela- ware), and took up a tract of land on the northern side of Chester County, now East Nantmeal Township. It was almost entirely a wilderness, and when they took possession of the cabin he had put up for them in the woods, they were much secluded from intercourse with others.
His means were limited, but he was energetic and in- dustrious, and his wife, who was a valuable helpmate, united her endeavors to his in procuring a subsistence
94 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
for their increasing family. Many difficulties beset them but they were generally enabled to overcome them more easily than they had expected. Of one period of priva- tion and threatened famine, which occurred when but a small portion of their land had been brought under cul- tivation, he sometimes told in after-life with tears. It was the closest trial of their faifh.
At that time he had no one to assist him but his wife's brother, a lad of ten or twelve years of age. The crop of grain they had raised w^as light, and after sowing for the next harvest, the quantity left was far from sufficient for the family through the approaching winter. Then William became disabled by rheumatism, the sustenance for the family was exhausted, the ground so covered with snow as to be almost impassable, and he was unable to seek abroad for means of avoiding the suffering which threatened them.
In this time of extreme peril his wife mounted a horse, and taking with her a web of homespun linen, set out for a distant mill. She left their cabin early in the morning, having snow from three to four feet deep to pass through, and many drifts much deeper.
The journey was very difficult, and when she reached Ashbridge's mill, near where Westtown school now stands, the day was far advanced. She told the miller the situation of the family; that they had no mone}^, but had a crop of grain in the ground, and offered her linen in pledge for flour, until they could redeem it after harvest. The miller's heart was touched ; he replied he wisked no security but her word, gave her as much as her hoxi^e could carry, and offered to supply all they should need until harvest.
With a weary horse heavily laden, she travelled all night to reach her home, where her invalid husband and
MARY KIDGWAY AND JANE WATSON. 95
young brother were sitting up, anxiously awaiting her arrival. The children had cried for food, and their father scraped from the kneading-bowl something of which he made a kind of porridge, which, with some boiled dry beans, having in a measure allayed their hun- ger, they had forgotten their troubles in sleep.
The mother reached the cabin in safety ; and when she entered it, the bearer of good news and life-sustaining food, both she and her husband were so overcome that the}^ fell into each other's arms and wept.
ABEL THOMAS.
The industrious do not always accumulate much of this world's riches. Sometimes their Heavenly Father sees the need of crosses, even in temporals, and admin- isters to them losses of various kinds ; but the Lord's dedicated children can often perceive His hand in these dispensations, and being content therewith, still find godliness great gain. Abel Thomas was active and pru- dent in his worldly business. A Friend who admired his industry and management said to him, ^' I suppose thou art growing rich, Abel!" ^' No," said the old Friend, seriously, "• I have been mercifully blessed with many losses."
MARY RIDGWAY AND JANE WATSON.
Mary llidgway and Jane Watson, two ministering Friends from Ireland, wlio visited this country about n90, v;ere much favored witli spiritual discernment and gospel authority in their labors. Mary llidgway, with
96 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
clear judgment to condemn departure from the truth, was 3'et a meek-spirited, mild-spoken advocate of the Gospel of Christ Jesus ; whilst Jane Watson was blunth^ honest, and spoke home truths in plain, straightforward, and sometimes sharp language. She was one to whom a description given by that late worthy minister, Ann Jones, of another Friend, would very properly apply: "He hewed to the mark, no matter what became of the chips.*'
Mary and Jane, in the course of a visit to the meetings of Burlington Quarter, attended one, with the members of which, excepting one man elder, they were wholly unacquainted. Jane rose, and whilst her strong voice and Irish accent seemed to give emphasis to her words, took for her text, '' Love is strong as death ; jealousy is cruel as the grave ; the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame.'' In descanting on the nature of jealousy, she drew a vivid picture of a worthy female, who, not without cause, was suffering under its pangs. At this stage of her communication, she had some consolation to hand forth to the person. She then turned her discourse to the husband of the suf- ferer, the evil instrument of her sorrows, and proceeded as though reading over a narrative of bygone events, to proclaim his hypocrisy and shame. As she told of his lapses from honor and virtue, she exclaimed, *' What, Friends, if I could almost lay my hands upon him !"
Jane TTatson then sat down, and soon after Mary Ridgway arose, and in her beautiful and impressive manner addressed the meeting on the difference between a real religion and that mere outward show, which to casual and superficial observers seemed as lovely as the real. She compared the appearance without the sub- stance to the pictures of the painter, and the statuarj^ of
LETTER FROM PETER YARNALL. 97
the sculptor, beautiful to look upon, and yet they were not the things they represented.
When the meeting closed, the two Friends went home with their acquaintance, the elder. He spoke to Jane on the subject of her ministry, expressed his doubts as to there being any such person there, and said he thought there must be some mistake. '' No mistake at all !" said the straightforward Jane. " Who was that plain man that sat on the bench fronting me, who, when I began to speak, looked up so boldly in my face, but presently drooped his head, and did not raise it again during the meeting ? That is the man !"
This person was at that time an overseer of the meeting, and for aught that his neighbors knew, was exemplary in his domestic relations, as he appeared to be in his out- ward walks amongst men. But in three weeks from the time of this meeting, a train of hidden depravity trans- pired, and the sufferings of his wife, which Jane had so graphically delineated, were found to have been a sad reality.
It is said that Jane Watson once, commenting on the flimsy excuses of those in the parable, who, on being in- vited to the supper, declined, because of various trifling worldly engagements, when she came to trest on the answer, " I have married a wife, and therefore I cannot come," remarked, '' This was the greatest fool of all, for he should have gone, and taken his wife with him."
LETTER FROM PETER YARNALL.
In 1789, Peter Yarnall visited the settlement at Red- stone, and parts of Virginia. During his absence from home, he addressed a letter to James Bringhurst (dated
98 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
First month 23d, It 90), from which the following is extracted :
" How low is the state of our Society in many places, and even in jour great and opulent city, unto whom the Lord hath been gracious, blessing it with the dew of heaven, and the fatness of the earth ; and He is now call- ing to its inhabitants for fruits, answerable to the favors and mercies bestowed.
"' Too many of those who have been invited by Him to the marriage supper, have been pleading excuses, the world and its votaries have obstructed their way, and many have been wounded and slain by its friendships, and its spirit, whom the Lord had designed for usefulness in His church. The pomp and glory of things transient and fading have dimmed their lights, and they are thus kept back from the enjoyment of the banquet of the King's Son, the possession of the pearl of great price! Yet they are still invited, and the call goes forth into the streets and lanes of the cit}^, and the highways and hedges ; for still there is room, and His table will be filled with guests.
'^ The world, the flesh, and the devil, still endeavor to prevent us, who are called to the marriage supper of the Lamb, from accepting the invitation, and from taking our places in wedding garments, fitted and prepared by Him. The love of wealth and the results of it are, and have been, the main causes of the degeneracy visible in the families of many Friends in modern times. During the early da^^s of our Society, when the Friends were everywhere spoken against and persecuted, a dance or play of some kind was introduced and acted on the stage in the city of London, which, although almost blasphe- mous in its parts, was one in which a striking soul- important truth was set forth. A person was introducedj
LETTER FROM PETER YARNALL. 99
intended, with awful ])oldness, to represent tlie Almight}^ Creator of the world ; another was to personify tlie devil ; others were mortals seeking to obtain, by petitioning the Dispenser of all benefits, that which seemed most desir- able to them. Each one was allowed one request, and that one was always granted ; one wished riches, and obtained it ; another honor, another revenge on his enemies ; at last a poor persecuted Quaker was introduced, who asked for the ' kingdom of heaven.' When the others found he had obtained it, with one consent they cried out that they had forgotten the kingdom of heaven, and wanted that also. They were told it was too late ; their choice was made, and they must abide by it. At this part of the play, he who represented the devil, addressing the per- secutors of the Quakers, said to this effect : ' You are fools ! you persecute the Quakers and cast them into prison ; taking away their goods and living from them, so that the}^ have no certainty of either Iberty or estate ; and that tends to wean them from lower enjoyments, and to keep them low and humble, which puts them out of my reach. I will tell you what to do. Let them alone ; and as they are an honest industrious people, there will be a blessing on their labors, and they will grow rich and proud; build them fine houses, and get fine furniture, and tlie}^ will lose their humility, and become like other people, and then I shall have them.'
" What an abundance of fine liouses, fine furniture, and fine pictures, are found amongst us in these degenerate days, which our worthy ancestors would not have been willing to have owned. It is but recently we observed a notice of a painting made for a member active in Society matters, the pay of which is in dollars, counted by thou- sandi>. Was there a momentary suspension of the cries of the poor and starving for bread, when the bargain for
Lorc
100 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-PIVE.
wasting so large a portion of their rightful inheritance was made? Who, with a Christian heart, does not know that the superabundant resources of the rich is a fund, in the will and ordering of Divine Providence, on which the necessities of the poor have a right to draw. Thus, who- ever wastes them, is in fact spoiling the propert}" of others, taking the food from the mouth, the clothes from the back, the shelter from the head of the starving, the naked, the outcast.
'' Our friend, Anthony Benezet, who felt himself re- strained from all needless expense, whether in adminis- tering to his own comfort, or to the gratification of what might be considered good taste, being in a store where many fine, costly goods were sold, exclaimed aloud, ' What a number of beautiful things are here which I do not want.' Were he turned into the picture galleries of some bearing our name, to the parlors, ornamented with painting and gilding, to the chambers, to the libra- ries, to the wardrobes ; with both hands uplifted, we might hear him exclaim, with greater earnestness of spirit than he ever felt when he wrote the words, ' The sumptuous- ness of our dwellings, our equipage, our dress, furniture, and the luxmy of our tables, will become a snare to us, and a matter of reproach to the thinking part of mankind ! "
'' The sorrowful effect of an attachment to the riches, the honor, the enjo^^ments, the comforts of this life, are strikingly set forth in a dream of Samuel FothergilPs. He says, ' One night after I had retired to rest, I was led to trace back the transactions of my life, from my cradle even to that very time. The remembrance filled my soul with humble thankfulness, and serenity of mind, in the blessed assurance of being eternally happ3% if I never opened my eyes more in this world. With these consid-
NANTUCKET. 101
erations and deep impressions of mind, I fell into a nat- ural sleep, and thought the dissolution of the world was come ; that I heard a trumpet, at which the earth and sea were to give up their dead. Afterwards they assem- bled in great numbers before the presence of the Most High, at the tribunal seat of justice ; many on the right hand in white, and multitudes on the left, whose clothing was dark and gloomy. I thought I accompanied those on the right ; and we were borne away as upon the wings of archangels to the celestial regions of eternal bliss. From thence I returned to view those miserable objects on the left, for whom all that was within me w^as con- cerned. I saw many that were clothed in white, yet at a distance, some of them individuals now in the body. I said. Lord what have these done that they are left be- hind ? Then instantly their white raiment fell off, and 1 beheld them bound as with shackles of iron and fettered to the earth.' ",
N ANTUCKET.
The island of Nantucket was first discovered by Bjorne Herjulfson, a Norwegian navigator, in the year 985, while on a voyage from one of the Greenland colonies. The first Englishman who saw it was Bartholomew Gos- nald, in 1602. This island was included in the grant to the Plymouth Company, made by patent from the English Crown in 1620, and jurisdiction over it was claimed under that patent by Ferdinando Gorges and AVilliam, Earl of Sterling, by whom it was conveyed to Thomas Mayhew, about the year 1641. In 1 659 Mayhew conveyed to Tristram Coflin, Thomas Macy, Christopher llussey, Richard Swain, Thomas Bnrmird, Peter (\)lHn, Stephen Grecnleaf, John Swain, and William IMle, niue- tenths of the island (excepting that part cuHed Quaise),
102 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
to hold in common with himself. Each of these ten was soon authorized to select an associate or partner, and thus the number of proprietors was increased to twenty. The consideration named in the deed was '• thirty pounds of current pay, and also two beaver hats, one for myself and one for my wife."
These ten men felt, however, that although they now possessed all the title which the Crown could give, yet the Indians, the original occupants of the soil, were the true owners. The}^ immediately opened negotiations with the different sachems, and succeeded ere long in purchasing from them a greater part of the land.
In the autumn of 1G59 Thomas Macy, one of the pur- chasers, residing in Salisbury, being persecuted on ac- count of having given shelter in his house to four Quakers for three-quarters of an hour in a rain-storm, left his home in an open boat, with his family and Ed- ward Starbuck, and in a short time landed upon the aorth side of the island, where they found about fifteen hundred Indians, by whom they were kindly treated. The island was covered with oak woods which abounded in game ; fish and birds were plenty.
In the spring of 1660 Starbuck returned to Salisbury, and induced several proprietors with their families to accompany him to his new home.
FROM THE JOURNAL OF JOHN FOTHERGILL.
" On the 9th of Fourth month, 1T3T .the Yearly Meeting began at Portsmouth, Rhode Island, and a large, pre- cious meeting it was. I returned to Newport, where the Yearly Meeting continued and held four days, the assem- bly being large and peaceable, and at times comfortable
NANTUCKET. 103
in the arisings of the mighty power and love of God, who had the glory and praise.
'' On tlie 24th the Yearly Meeting began at ISTantucket. It was large, and continued four days to true satisfac- tion, and the name of the Lord was glorified.
*'* Nantucket, Sixth month 28th, 1755. ^' ' Here is a very large meeting of professors upon this island, which is, with respect to its soil, a sand-bank in the sea, about fifteen miles long and three broad. The Yearly Meeting finished here this day was very large, the place considered ; being more than one thousand four hundred, principally professors of truth, at meeting, and about four hundred out at sea fishing for whales. A convincement there was formerly amongst them, and a body of good Friends remains ; but as the richest part of the inhabitants embraced the principles of truth from conviction, the others thought the expense of maintaining a priest would be too heavy for them, and have turned Quakers to save money; though I hope, even amongst them, the power of the begetting word is in a degree at work, to give a surer title to the family of Christ.
' '^ Samuel Fothergill.' "
Martha Kouth, on a visit to Friends of Nantucket in 1794, wrote: "In the South Meeting were about two hundred and twenty families. We then went to the North, accompanied by Jethro Mitcliell and Sarah Bar- ney, two valuable Friends in the station of Elders. In that meeting were about one hundred and thirteen families."
First month, 18G9. — Whole number of members of the Society of Friends on the Island of Nantucket, 45. Six of these are over eighty years of age, vi/. : one is 92, two are 89, two 85, and one 83.
4
104 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTH-FIVE.
BetTveen TO and 80 the number is 13 ; between 60 and YO, ten ; between 40 and 60, twelve, and under 25 there are four, two of whom do not attend Friends' Meeting, the other two only occasionally.
These 45 members are in 26 families, and are situated thus: two families of four members each, nine families of two members each, and the remaining nineteen are individuals living either entirely alone, or in the family of a relative.
Within about one year and a half previous to the above date, six aged Friends were removed by death, aged respectively^, 90, 83, 81 and two 80.
A DREAM OF MILDRED RATCLIFFE.
(Related by herself. Fifth month 5th, 1840.)
^^ Near my father's house in Yirginia, there was a worn-out field, no longer worth tilling, which we used to call ' the old field.' When I was a little girl, I suppose about nine years old (for I sat upon the floor when I told my dream to my parents), I dreamt that I saw the field full of people, and in the middle of it there was a hole about as big as this room, if it were round, and from this hole fiames of fire were ascending. After awhile I saw the old enemy come out of the hole and take hold of one of the people and thrust him headlong into the ab^^ss, and the flames boiled up on him. Then he took another and served in the same way, and so on. It was remarkable that he alwa3^s took those nearest to him, but the rest of the multitude seemed to take no notice that one b}^ one of their companions was taken away.
*' After awhile, as I gazed in astonishment, I perceived that there was but one left beside myself, and that one
A DREAM OF MILDRED RATCLIFFE. 105
was presently taken too. The old adversary looked around and made directly towards me. Awfully fright- ened, I turned to run, and heard a voice distinctly sa}^, ^As long as ^^ou run from him he will have no power over you.'
'^ It said 'you ' to me then, for it always speaks to us in a voice we can understand.
'' The part of the old field I had to run through was a quagmire, and my feet sunk in, and I suffered as much as any mortal could suffer in a dream. About a yard before me a flame seemed to rise from the ground, and I thought surely when I get there I shall be burnt up ; but when I reached it, it was a yard further, and so it continued till I got out of the field. When I reached the road, which was a beautiful level piece of ground, I began to go faster and faster, and presently I flew and left the old enem^^ behind ; than I slackened my pace, and was trying to raise a song of thanksgiving in my heart for my deliverance, and proceeding slowly, I sud- denly heard the same voice say : ' See where the old enemy is.' I cast my eye over my shoulder, and there I saw the old adversary with both claws open, ready to grasp me. I sprang forward and ran, and soon I flew, and did not slack until I got home. I did not stop at the porch, for it was no place of safet}^, but as soon as I got within the door, all fear was taken away, and I turned round and looked the adversary in the face, and said, ^ Satan, I am not afraid, I am in my father's house.' He dropped a scowl upon me and went awa}^
" Mjiny years after, when distant from friends and in a lonely state, this dream was opened to my imderstanding. The people in the old field were the world ; one by one their companions passed to punishment, but they heeded it not.
106 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
^'The toilsome travel through the quagmire, was in getting away from my people, the Baptists. The clean road was when I got among Friends — but how was I
instructed, that even here the enemy would clutch us if we were off our guard.
'•But high praises to the good Master, we are always safe in our Father's house."
JOHN VTOOLMAN'S FIRST SERVICE IN ENGLAND.
John Woolman wrote in his journal :
''On the 8th day of the Sixth month, 1772, we landed at London, and I went straightway to the Yearly Meet- ing of ministers and elders, which had hoen gathered. I suppose, about half an hour.
'' In this meeting my heart was humbly contrite."
His certificate was presented and read, when some one remarked. "That perhaps the dedication of the Friend might be accepted, and he might feel easy to return to his native land." This caused no unkind feeling in John Woolman, but conscious that the spirit of the prophets is subject to the prophets, he was humbled and deeply affected, and his tears flowed freely.
Then he rose and meekly stated that he did not feel any release from his prospect, but could not travel in Truth's service without the unity of his Friends, and that, while this was withheld, he should not be easy to be at any cost to them ; that he was acquainted with the trades of a tailor and a shoemaker, and he hoped while the impediment continued to be felt. Friends would be kindly willing to employ him in such business as he was capable of, that he might not be chargeable to any.
A season of silence ensued, during which tears flowed freely from many eyes. After a time. John "Woolman,
DIVINE PROTECTION. 107
in the pure openings of trutli, spoke a few words in ministry, and the spirit of his Blessed Master bore wit- ness to his gift. Friends were favored with true dis- cernment, all obstruction was removed, and the flow of unity (first expressed by the Friend who had before spoken his doubts) became "as a river to swim in."
A MEMORABLE INSTANCE OF DIVINE GUIDANCE AND PROTECTION.
The following account of some extraordinary circum- stances, which atttended James Dickinson and Jane Fearnon, both of Cumberland, when on a religious visit to Scotland, in the early part of their labor in the Gospel, was related by themselves (when each was about eighty years of age), to Sarah Taylor, when she was about eighteen years old ; the one assisting the other in recol- lecting the circumstances as they related them to her.
It was in the borders, or some part of that nation, they were travelling with a person they had procured for a guide, to a town they proposed to reach that night, which, being a very long stage, and the rains heav}^, Jane growing exceedingly fatigued, wished much to have taken up short of the town, if a suitable place had offered. Their guide assured them there was none, but being exceedingly wet and weary, and coming up to a good- looking house, James rode up to it, and asked if thc}^ could have lodging and necessary accommodations. They were told they could, when they determined to stop there, which the guide appeared very averse to, but finding they would alight, he bade them farewell, saying they had no further need of him ; but evidently left them with regret, having remonstrated strongly against their calling there before they went up to the house, l)ut did not choose to speak in the hearing of the family.
108 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
On their alighting, they were shown into a room with a fire in it, which opened into the kitchen, or common room, where the famil}' dwelt. Their horses were taken care of, their wet things put to dry, and they were, aj^parently, likely to be pretty comfortably accommo- dated. A posset was made for them, and a cold meat pie brought for their suppers ; but on their first sitting down in the room, they both grew very uneasy ; which, however (not knowing how the other felt), each deter- mined to keep to themselves ; till at length Jane said that her apprehensions were so great, and her opinion of the family so bad, she fully believed the pie to be made of human flesh ; which, however, James Dickinson thought was scarcely the case, saying he ate of it and thought it good. As they sat, Jane observed three very ill-looking men come in, and in a low voice, tell the landlady they had good horses ; she answered, '* Aye, and they have bags too." James' uneasiness increasing, his mind became closely engaged to seek for the cause, and for Divine counsel how to move ; and under this exercise was favored to believe, if they kept close to that, and closely attended to its pointings, the}' should be preserved, and way made for their escape ; on which he inquired about their lodgings, saying they had to write, and should want candles, and proposed to retire soon. They were shown into a chamber on the side of a yard, with two beds in it. without any bolt to the door ; btit observing a form or bench in the room, tried, and found by placing one end against the door, it would just wedge in between it and one of the beds. On their being thus shut into the room, Jane sat down on one of the beds, and manifested her distress by wringing her hands, and saying she believed they never should go alive out of that house. On which James sat down by
DIVINE PROTECTION. 109
her and told her to be still ; that he had been under equal distress of mind from their first sitting down in the house, but under that exercise, and seeking for best help, his mind had been favored by that which never had deceived him, to believe, if they carefully minded its pointings, they should be directed how to escape. On which they sat in perfect stillness for some considerable time, attentively waiting for best direction ; when at last James told Jane the time for them to flee for their lives was then come ; and having, on their first coming into the room, observed a door opposite to that they came in at, and on opening it, found it led to a pair of stone stairs, on the outside of the house next the road, and believing that was the way for them to get off, he bade Jane put off her shoes, as he also did, and softly opened that door; when they perceived by a light through a chink, between the first stone and the house, a woman sharpening a large knife. Going softly down the steps and on the road, till out of hearing of the house, they then went as quick as they possibly could, James desiring Jane to run, and taking her arm to assist her in getting forward.
After going about a quarter or half a mile from the house, under heavy rain, they discovered a sort of hovel, or cot, where the}^ tried to rest themselves, there being some hay or straw left for the cattle, but found, by the painful impression renewed on their minds, this was not safe; then, notwithstanding their excessive weariness, and Jane being ready to sink with discouragement, Jamej urged the necessity of exerting themselves, under the firm hope that they should be preserved ; and they went forward as fast as they could till they came to the side of water, the course of which they followed to a bridge, over which they attempted to pass, but felt restrained
110 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
when they ^vere upon it. On which Jnmes said that was not their way ; so they turned and Avent forward, keeping down the course of the water, which, when they had proceeded about half a mile farther, increasing greatl}^ in breadth, James stopped, and told Jane they must cross at that place ; which exceedingly' alarmed her ; haA'ing given way to so much discouragement, she could scarcely lay hold of hope that they should not totally sink under their present situation, and she told James she apprehended if they went into the water they should be drowned. But he endeavored to cheer her, reminding her of the evidence he had of their preservation, if they kept a steady eye to the best direction, which he believed had led them thus far, and that their wav was throuo-h the water at that place, and he believed they should get safely to the other side. Whereupon, with the help of his arm, she ventured, and they passed safely through; walking some distance they came to a sand-bank ; here sitting down, James said to Jane, '* I am not yet easy, we must go farther.'' Upon which she replied, '' Well, I must go by thy faith ; I know not what to do." Going a little farther, they found another sand-bank, in which was a cavity, where they sat down. After they had been there a little while, James said. •* I am now easy, believe we are perfectly safe, and feel in my heart a song of thanksgiving and praise.'' Jane replied, *• I am so far from that, I cannot so much as say. the Lord have mercy upon us." When they had been there about half an hour, they heard the noise of people on the opposite side of the river; upon which James, finding Jane alarmed, and thence fearing they should be discovered, softly said to her, '• Our lives depend upon our silence.'' Then atten- tively hearkening, they heard them frequently say. ** Seek 'em. Keeper." and believed they were the men they saw
DiVmE PROTECTION. Ill
at the house, accompanied by a dog ; that the dog, refus- ing to go over the bridge, had followed the scent of their feet a^long the river-side to the place they had crossed from ; vfhen, stopping, the people again repeatedly cried, ^' Seek 'em. Keeper," which they not only heard, but saw the people with a lantern. They also heard one of them say, they had there crossed th^ river ; upon which another replied, '' That's impossible, unless the devil took them over, for the river is brink full." After wearying themselves a considerable time in the search, they went away, and James Dickinson and Jane Pearnon saw them no more. When daylight appeared, they saw a man on a high hill at some distance, looking about him every way. They continued quiet in this retreat until some time after sunrise, when, upon taking a view of their situation, they discovered that under the first sand- bank, whence they removed, they might have been seen from the other side of the river, and that the place the}" continued in shaded them from being seen from the opposite side, which they had been insensible of, as they could not make the observation the night before. Upon their considering what they should do to recover their horses, saddle-bags, &c., James said, " I incline to return to the house." But Jane proposed their going to a town, in order to procure assistance to go with them to the hovise ; 1;o which James replied, the town from which assistanoe was likely to l)e obtained was about ten miles distant; that they were strangers, and had nothing to do with them. Jane still hesitating, he said, " I still incline to return to the house, fully believing our horses, clothes, &c., will be ready for us, without our being asked a question, and the people we saw last night we shall see no more." Jane said, " I think I dare not go back." James said, '' Thou mayest, Jane, safel}-, for I have seen
112 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-nVE.
it in that wliicli never failed me.-' Upon which they returned to the house, and found their horses standing: in the stable saddled, and their saddle-bags upon them, their clothes dried, and laid read}^ to put on, and saw no person but an old woman sitting in a nook by the fireside, whom they did not remember seeing the night before. They asked her what they had to pa}', discharged it, and proceeded on their journey.
Some time afterwards James Dickinson, travelling the same way in Truth's service, passed the place where the house had stood, but found it was pulled down and totally destroyed ; and on coming to the town they had thought to have gone to, when they stopped there on account of the heavy rain, as before related, he inquired what was become of the people, and the cause of the house being in ruins ; when he was told that some time after Jane and he were there, some travellers who were observed to go there to lodge were missing, and it having been long under a very bad name, and the people strongly sus- pected of murdering many who had gone there, the neighborhood with general consent beset the house, tak- ing out the people, and searching the house and its environs, found the bodies of the above mentioned, with many others in different states of decay, who had evi- dently been murdered, and I think some parts of their bodies wanting, with a great quantity of clothes supposed to belong to them ; on which the people were tried, and I think five of them executed, and the house razed to the ground.
Sarah Taylor, who received the foregoing narrative from James Dickinson and Jane Fearnon, was at the house of Lindley Murray, near York, during the time of the autumn Quarterly Meeting in 1^90, when the above
MARY DYER. 113
account being read to her, she confirmed the same, being then about seventy-four years of age.
PLAIN DRESS, ETC.
OBSERVATIONS OF AN AMERICAN ENVOY.
After transacting some business with a member of the Society of Friends in London, he said, " I admire your Society; the principle contains all of Christianity I have any idea of ; but I am sorry to see that some of you are losing your badge, and I do not see how you can retain your principles and forego your little peculiarities, your marks of self-denial and difference from the spirit of the world. You are lights ; the world should come to you, and not you go to the world. You may gather them, but they will scatter you.'^
MARY DYER.
(Copy of a letter written by Mary Dyer the day before her expected execution. The original fs on file among the Massachusetts Records. )
The superscription is as follows, viz. :
"Mary Dyer's letter to the Court, presented by her Sonne, and read in open Court, 26th 8 mo. (Oct.) 1659."
The Letter.
" from marie dire to ye Generall court this present 26th of the 8th month '59, assembled in ye towne of boston, in New Ingland, greeting of grace, mercy, peace to every soul yt doth well : tribulation, anguish, and wrath to all yt doth evill.
" Whereas it is said by many of you yt I am guilty of
114 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
mine own rl^ath by my coming, as you cal it, voluntarily to boston ; I therefore declare unto every one that hath an ear to hear ; yt in 3^6 fear, peace & love of God I came, & in wel doing did & still doth commit my soul as to a faithful Creator, who for this very end hath pre- served my life untill now through many trialls & tempta- tions, having held out his royall sceptre unto mee, by w^hich I have accesse into his presence & have found such favour in his sight as to offer up my life for the truth and people's sake's, whom the enimie hath moved yon again without a cause, to make such laws, as by him is intended utterl}^ to root out & keep back from among 3'ou ye holy people & seed, which ye Lord hath blessed forever, called by ye children of darkness (cursed quakers) for whom the Lord is rising to plead with all such as shal touch his anointed, or doe his prophets any harm, there- fore in the bowels of love & compassion I beseech you to repeal al such laws as tend to this purpose & let the truth and Servants of God have fre passage among you, for verily 3^e enimie that hath done this cannot in any measure countervail 3^e gread damage 3 1 will fal upon 3^ou, if 3^ou continue to keep such laws. Woe is me for 3"0u. Was there ever 3^e like laws heard of, made by such as profess Christ come in the flesh ? Have such no other weapons to fight with against si:)iritual wickedness as 3^ou call it? Of whom take 3^ou counsel? Search with the light of Christ in you, & that will show 3^ou of w^hom as it hath done me, & many more, who hath been disobedient, & deceived, as 3'ou now are, which secret light as 3"0U come into, & obe3ing w^hat's made manifest to 3 ou therein, 3^ou will not repent that you were kept from shedding blood, though 'twere b3^ a woman : Its not my own life I seek for (I chuse rather to suffer with 3'e people of God than to enjo3^ the pleasures of Eg3^pt) but
MARY DYER. 115
ye life of ye seed, which I know ye Lord hath blessed, & therefore seeks ye enimie thus vehemently ye life thereof to destroy as in al ages he did. Oh ! hearken not unto him I beseech you for ye seed's sake, which is one in al, & deare in ye sight of God, which they that touch, toucheth the apple of his eye & cannot escape his wrath, of which I having felt cannot but persuade al men yt I have to doe withal, especially you, who nameth ye name of Christ, to depart from such iniquity as blood- shed even of ye saints of ye most High. I have no self end ye Lord knows, for, if my life were freely granted by 3^ou, it would not be accepted soe long as I shal dayly see or hear the sufferings of my dear brethren & sisters (with whom my life is bound up) as I have this 2 years, and now its likely to increase even unto death for noe evil doing but being among you ; therefore let my request have as much acceptance with you (if you be Christians) as Esther had with Ahasuerus, whose relation is short of that, that is betwixt Christians, & my request is ye same that hers was to ye king, who said, not that he had mad a law, & it was dishonorable for him to revoke it, but when he understood that those people were so prised by her & so nearly concerned her, as in words of truth and soberness I have here expressed you, that these are the same to mee, you know by the history what he did for her, I therefore leave these lines with you, appealing to ye ftxithful & true witness of God ; which is one in al conscienses, before whom wee must all appeare, with whom I do & shal eternally rest in everlasting joy Sc peace. Whether you will hear or forbear, I am clear of your blood, but 3^ou cannot be so of ours, but wil be charged therewith by 3^e Lord, before whom al your coverings wil be too narrow for you ; but to me to live is Christ, & to die is gain though I had not your 48 hours
116 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
warning for the preparation of the cruel, & in your esteme, cursed death of mee, Marie dire. Know this also yt, if through ye enmity you shall declare yourselves worse than ye heathen king & confirme your law, though 'twere but by taking the life of one of us, yt the Lord will overthrow you & your laws by his righteous judg- ment & plagues powered justly on you, who now, whilst you are warned hereof & tenderly sought unto avoid ye one by removing ye other, will not hear nor obey the Lord nor his servants, yet will he send more of his servants among you, soe your end shall be frustrated yt think to restrain them you call quakers from cominge amonge you by anything you can do to them, yea verily he hath a seed that suffereth among you, for whom we have suffered al this while, & yt yet suffereth, whom ye Lord of ye harvest wil send forth more laborers to gather (out of ye mouths of devourers of al sorts) into his fold, when he will lead them into fresh pastures, even the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Oh, let none ot you put this good day far from you, which verily in ye light of ye Lord I see approaching to many in and about Boston, which is the bitterest, darkest professing place & soe to continue soe long as you don yt I ever heard of. O let the time past suffice of such a profession as brings forth such fruits as these laws are. In love & in the spirit of meekness I again beseech you, for I have no enmity to the persons of anj^, but you shall know that God is not mocked, but what 3^ou sow yt shal you reap from him, 3 1 will render to ever}^ one according to their deeds don in his bod}^, whether good or evil, even so be it saith Marie dire, who also desireth yt ye people called quakers in prison, that's in ye town of Boston at ye time of our execution, may accompanie us to ye place & see ye bodyes buried."
EDWARD WANTON. 117
EDWARD WANTOK.
(The following was furnished to the editors of a late paper, by " a descendant of Edward Wanton.")
Edward Wanton was a conspicuous merchant of Boston at the period when the persecution of Friends was most virulent. At the time of the execution of Mary Dyer, in Boston, he attended at the execution in an official capacity, whether as sheriff or captain of the train-band, I never ascertained.
lie was very deeply touched by her language and de- portment, and on returning to the house he removed his sword, saying to his mother, he '' should never wear it again, as they had been killing the people of the Lord." He suffered great mental anguish for a long time, but at length he found peace, and became a member and min- ister in the Society of Friends. He underwent severe persecutions in Boston, which cannot be detailed within the limits of this brief article ; but he at length removed to the town of Scituate, and was instrumental in gather- ing a large and flourishing Friends' meeting in that place, chiefly from those who had been members of the Congregational Church. This was quite sufficient to bring upon him the hatred of the minister of the place, who lost no opportunity of persecuting him, and he was made the constant object of reviling, both in the pulpit and in social life. On the occasion of his second mar- riage, which was celebrated after the manner of the Society of Friends, the priest instituted a suit against him, and obtained a very large verdict, in a court which was deeply prejudiced. This flue he refused to pay, and it was collected from him by distraint, which caused a k)ss of property to at least double the amount of the iiqe, I h^ve a uiauuscrij)! account of th<'se tines written
118 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
with his own hand. He built the meeting-house at Scituate with his own money, and by will left means to keep it in repair.
He attended the Yearly Meeting at Newport as a rep- resentative in his eighty-fifth year, and its records show that he was in its service on all the most important com. mittees that were appointed that year. He was a bold and eloquent minister, and had great power of convincing men's reason, hy clear and glowing exhibitions of the truth. He was not onl^^ instrumental in gathering a large meeting in Scituate, but several neighboring meet- ings were greatl}^ aided by his ministerial labors, as well as by counsel and advice.
His sons, John and Joseph, removed to Rhode Island, and both became A^ery eminent ministers. The former was for many years Governor of the colony. He was a man of excellent education and address, and his ministry was attended by large crowds of people as long as he lived. He was summoned to England in the reign of Queen Anne, and became a great favorite with her. She offered to confer upon him the honor of Knighthood, which he declined, but she did give him a coat-of-arms, and a magnificent silver gilt bowl as a memorial of her esteem.
No less than seven of Edward Wanton's descendants filled the gubernatorial chair of Rhode Island, and most of them were worthy and consistent members of the Society of Friends.
JOHNSALKELD.
John Salkeld, of Delaware, though an eccentric man, was a favored minister. John Churchman, in his early days, took an opportunity to labor with him for allowing
PRESERVATION OF A FAMILY OF FRIENDS. 119
his eccentricities to carry him sometimes too far. The aged minister listened to all his young friend had to say, and then quietly answered, " Why, John, I have overcome ten times as much as thou ever had to contend with."
REMAKKABLE PRESERVATION OF A FAMILY OF FRIENDS.
The following account of the remarkable preservation of a family of Friends, residing about two miles from Dublin, during the rebellion in the year lY98,in which more than one hundred thousand lives were lost, was narrated by the mother of the family to Richard Jordan, of America, when on a religious visit to Europe, and related by him to some friends at Baltimore, in 1825. He observed : '^ Such is my confidence in the integrity of the Friend, that I have no more doubt of the facts than if I had myself witnessed them.'
^^ The family were dwelling at a beautiful villa, hand- somely situated and highly cultivated ; and whilst assem- bled one afternoon around their peaceful and happy fireside, they were rudely assailed by a party of insur- gents, who surrounded the house, and forced an entrance. The leader of this band of ruffians informed the family that they must prepare for death, as he was determined to murder every member of the family as heretics, and burn their house and property. As they were proceeding to fulfill their murderous intention, a secret compunction of mind on the part of the officer arrested their pro- gress; and after a short delay, he told them he had concluded to give them twenty-four hours' respite, dur- ing which they might consider his proposals ; that thoy would return at the same time, four o'clock, the succeed- ing day, and if they were then willing to change their
120 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
religion, and become Roman Catholics, their lives and property should be saved; but if not, every individual should be murdered, and the property razed to the ground. They then withdrew. In this hour of extrem- ity, their faith and constancy were put to a severe test, and the intermediate period was passed under feelings which can better be conceived than described.
'^ The following was their regular meeting day, and the mother proposed to her husband that the family should rise earl}^ partake of a light repast, and every member of it repair to the meeting-place, there to mingle once more in social worship with their beloved friends, before the hour of their suffering arrived. Her husband, however, deemed such a proceeding unwise, and they were brought into deep mental conflict, with fervent desires that they might be rightly guided in the struggle between religious duty on the one hand, and apprehensions for the safety of their beloved family on the other.
^^They assembled the family to deliberate on the course they should pursue in this painful exigency, with a degree of humble confidence that Divine direction would be afforded them ; and after a time of solenan re- tirement of mind, they spread the subject before their children. The excellent and amiable mother still pressed the propriety of going to meeting; but the father could not conceal his fears that it would lead to greater suf- fering. Their eldest son, with Christian fortitude and magnanimity, encouraged his parents to go, saying ;• / Father, rejoice that we are found worthy to suffer ;' a remark which greatly affected his parents, and so strengthened their minds, that they at once concluded to make the attempt.
"• In the morning they accordingly proceeded to their place of worship, taking the public highway instead of
PRESERVATION OF A FAMILY OF FRIENDS. 121
going through the fields, to avoid the armed insurgents, as was usually done, and through Divine protection they reached the meeting in safety.
" They sat with their friends in awful reverence, wait- ing on the great Preserver of men, and though their minds were deeply affected with the gloomy prospect be- fore them, yet a degree of living faith was renewed in their hearts, under which they were strengthened to cast themselves entirely on the protection of the Almighty. The meeting closed, and their minds were comforted and refreshed in having thus fulfilled what they considered a religious duty. But now a new trial commenced, in con- sidering whether it would be right to return home into 'the power of their enemies, of whom they were now clear, or to pursue an opposite course, and seek a place of safety for themselves and children. Their faith, how- ever, bore them up in this time of deep proving, and after solidly weighing the matter they believed it their duty to return home. The struggle, notwithstanding, was severe, for nature must necessarily feel keenly when our lives, and those whom we hold most dear, are at stake ; but as they journeyed onward with their hearts lifted up in prayer to the Lord, the mother's mind was powerfully impressed by the recollection of the 14th verse of the 60th chapter of Isaiah, viz.: ' The sons also of them that afi^icted thee shall come bending unto thee, and all they that despised thee shall bow themselves down at the soles of thy feet.' The recollection of this passage of the Holy Scriptures was accompanied by such an assurance of Divine regard and protection being ex- tended to them that she clapped her hands for joy, and expressed to her husband and children the confidence she felt that they should be cared for.
^^ On reaching home they all assembled and sat down iu
122 GLEANINGS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.
silent, reverent waiting on that God who careth for all His humble and obedient children, and thus awaited the impending stroke.
'• The clock struck four, but their persecutors came not. The King's troops had landed from England, and marched rapidly into the neighborhood, while the insurgents were flying in every direction to escape their pursuit. In less than two weeks the same imrty came to the house of the Friend, and on their knees implored the protection of the family to hide them from their pursuers, and save them from the destruction which they had so lately threatened to inflict on them.
"" Thus they were relieved from their painful state of suspense, and had cause to be humbly and deeply thank- ful for the merciful preservation extended to them, con- firming their faith in the all-sufficiency of their gracious Redeemer.-'
The substance of the foregoing narrative was related by Richard Jordan in a First-day morning meeting in Baltimore, at a time when many deluded persons in our Society were endeavoring to undervalue the Holy Scrij)- tures ; and E. Jordan took occasion to show not only the kind protecting care of a gracious Providence over His faithful children, and the divine support vouchsafed through the immediate operations of the Holy Spirit, but also that He was pleased to make the Scriptures of Truth a source of unspeakable consolation to His believing fol- lowers, opening and sealing them on their minds m a manner beyond the reach or comprehension of the wise and prudent of this world ; concluding with these words, ^* Friends, I am not prepared to give up the Holy Scrii> tures.*' (See ^' The Friend,*' vol. viii, p. 215. and vol, 5vii, p. 1390
MARY GRIFFIN. 123
MARY GRIFFIN.
Mary Griffin, of Nine Partners, New York, was the daughter of a zealous Presbyterian. Her quickness of perception was apparent about her sixth year, when, being present while her parents were conversing about their minister's salarj^, the mother remarked, '' We must not starve the Gospel ; " Mary replied, " That is impos- sible, mother, for it is the power of God unto sah^ation, to every one that believeth." Being allowed by her parents to frequent balls, she was once engaged in dancing, when her mind was solemnly impressed with the sin of thus misspending her time, and she immediately took her seat. On being asked the cause,