I WAS born in the year 1701, in Fleet-street, London; my father's name was James Brindley, who kept a china shop at the corner of Fetter-lane. I was the youngest of fourteen children, and my mother died when I was one year and a half old; after which my father removed to Lambeth, to the house called Vaux­hall, where he erected a pot-house; there my father married a second wife, who, dying before him, left two children; my father himself died when I was about seven years old, leaving six orphans, two of them younger than myself, having no other relation that we knew of, except my [Page 2] aunt, who was my father's sister, and married my present uncle, the person hereafter mentioned. My father dying without a will, left things in disorder, and Elias Turner, who was one of the three directors of the South Sea Compa­ny, proving himself my father's greatest creditor, sent for my uncle to London, from Leek, and advised him to stand guar­dian for us. Three of us, at my father's death, were under the care of his house­keeper, then wife to one of his clerks. She was very careful over us, and brought us up strictly in the protestant re­ligion; my eldest sister, being weakly, li­ved much with my aunt in the coun­try, except in the time of her education; and my little brother and sister were brought down by my aunt, on her return from visiting us children, after my fath­er's death; but the little boy did not live long. My uncle had a mind, at this this time to have had me down also, saying that, upon seeing my innocent amusements, he [Page 3] had a particular respect for me; but Elias Turner would not consent to it, and I, with my brother and sister, was continu­ed under the care of the house-keeper some years longer. My uncle at times repeating his desire to have us with him, and it being left to my choice, in the year 1713 I came down.

I had conceived the country a more delightful place than I at first thought it, and expressed to the maid, that accom­panied me, my dissatisfaction and disap­pointment. She staid with me till the re­turn of the coach, and left me a little sad: yet was my uncle and aunt full of love towards me, and I was careful of my expressions on the different situation I was in; but what added at this juncture to my grief, was the behaviour of my eldest sister, who, before my coming down, I did not remember to have seen. She gave my uncle so much uneasiness, that he sent her out of town, and, though [Page 4] he strove to prevent it, she married his apprentice, and never was re-admitted to his house while I lived there. On occasion of this, and the irksome­ness of my situation, my uncle thought proper to board me at school, though not altogether on account of my learning, for I was then thought dextrous at my needle beyond most of my years; and indeed I have observed in myself, that from a child there was a flexibility in my temper, which, as the softened wax, seemed fit for impression and improve­ment. My uncle concluded I might meet with something there to improve on and divert my mind, though I conceal­ed my sorrow to the best of my power: he took me to Governess Hide's, in or­der to board me there; yet it thus fell out: there lived in Smythy Door, Man­chester, a widow whose husband died some pounds in my father's books, and my uncle calling for the money, and tell­ing her whose daughter I was, she said, [Page 5] if he pleased, she would board me, and I might go to school as a day scholar. My uncle enquired into her charac­ter, and advised with one Nichols, a yarn merchant, in the Deansgate, who advised my uncle to accept the proffer, telling me, his house, if I did not like the other, should be my home; and here to be sure I always met with a kind recep­tion.

My uncle staid with me a few days, and then left me with the widow and her daughter, the only child she had. I lik­ed my place very well, being much more agreeable to me than Leek. This widow and her daughter were Presbyterians, but my uncle ordered me my liberty, and that I should go to church, which she never forbid, though she was very strict in her own way of worship, and kept good orders in the house, with fa­mily prayer night and morning, which I never absented myself from, and I still [Page 6] remember the pleasure which the books I read, the repetition of my catechism, and those forms of prayer adapted to my years, then gave me; always esteeming those I believed to be religious.

I staid at Manchester till the latter end of the year, and spent the winter agree­ably both to my uncle and myself. In the spring he took a journey to London, and as my yonnger sister had been brought from thence young, he thought fit to take her with him for her improve­ment, and there she staid four years. Though I was left at my uncle's as by myself, I did not regret the loss of these two sisters, who were indeed but as strangers to me, and amends were fully made by my uncle at his return, in bring­ing my other sister, with whom I had lived under the care of our housekeeper, down to see me. This gave me, as it were, new life again, for the month that she staid with us; but her departure went [Page 7] very hard with me; and my uncle, who ever sought (before I went to meeting) to make me happy according to his no­tion, proposed to take me to Manchester again. This was pleasing to me, and the widow received me kindly. She ne­ver asked me to go to chapel, yet I many times went at pleasure, and have since found occasion to remember what I met with there. I staid with her till the town was in confusion about tory and whig; and as she was afraid of the conse­quence, she desired my uncle to fetch me home.

I was now past thirteen, and quite re­conciled to my station, growing in my uncle and aunt's favour, and in love to­wards them. They punctually fulfilled their promise, that I should want for no­thing that was fit for me to have, and there coming a dancing-master, though I had learned that performance at London, my uncle sent me to him with others, it [Page 8] being a diversion which (as I was very agile) they said I was fit for, and indeed it was an amusement I was very fond of.

When I had past fourteen, my brother came down to see me, and my uncle, still studying my improvement, sent me to learn writing, to the pastry, and (on the return of my said master) to the dancing school again. This gave me a large ac­quaintance, and as I had acquired, from the teachings of my London master, a different air, as they term it, I generally went off with applause; and this seem­ed not less pleasing to my uncle and aunt, than to myself. He often shewed his fondness for me at my return, taking me to his knee, asking if there was any thing wanting in my dress, which my acquaintance had, and I had a mind to have, saying he would buy it for me; but his love prevented my much asking, for no sooner did he see a new mode than he mentioned it; nor do I know that I [Page 9] ever asked him for any thing by which he was so far displeased as to deny it me.

I was now past fifteen, and there com­ing two singing masters, who taught to sing psalms by notes, my uncle sent me to them. I went with many more, hav­ing great delight therein, as also in the worship of God, as I had been taught.

Here I cannot but observe, how many different inventions there are, to divert the minds of youth from opportunities of seeking after the one thing needful; yet it was in the midst of these hurries that I began to make reflections in my­self concerning the clergy, and to ac­count them worthy of double honour; esteeming them most happy, as their em­ployment led them in their devotion to­wards God; and therefore concluded they had a peculiar advantage in the mysteries of divine things, and a more thorough knowledge of the Lord, and his ways to man; often saying to myself, [Page 10] and others, if I had been a boy I would have been of their cloth, (and brought up, as my brother was designed by my fa­ther to have been, at the University.)

About this time some particular per­sons sought my company, by way of courtship; but it would by no means take with me, I keeping myself much reserv­ed on that account, and going on in a most earnest pursuit of my duties, as I had been taught, it proved a comfort to my uncle and aunt.

When about sixteen, my uncle made me an assistant in the family, and on the first days, I not only read and gave out the psalms, but also the family prayers, when my uncle was from home, or any way indisposed, so that now I stood high in their favour, both with respect to their religious and temporal enjoyments; and indeed, I have many times since thought of my distressed uncle as similar to Mi­cah, [Page 11] who, we read, thought himself blest when he had consecrated the Levite for his priest; but, alas! how soon did the priest not only leave Micah, but take away his image: so, though I stole not my uncle's god, yet I broke his peace, and left him to contemplate the uncer­tainty of that delight we fix on transient objects.

My uncle now intending my advance­ment, as he said, would leave his own little, though convenient, house, to take a larger, for the better accommodation of me and my acquaintance, of which I had a great number; he little suspecting this removal destined to overthrow his purposed happiness; but so it was. This house stood opposite the leach gates of the church, so called, where I was fre­quently reminded of the mortality of the body, and was thereby struck with many serious reflections on the state of eter­nity, and the immortality of the soul.

[Page 12] As I lived so near, I often waited up­on the corpse to the grave, musing in myself how it must be with the deceased in the hour of death; for, though I had often heard that sentence pronounced, by the priest, in which it is said, "we commit the body to the ground, (note) in sure and certain hope of the resurrec­tion to eternal life;" yet, upon the strict­est review, I could not find I had any evidence of that hope abiding in me; and though my reasonings would have led me to conclude it was an immediate gift of God to the soul at the time of de­parture, yet my esteem for the clergy led me to believe, that it was an assur­ance given to them, and that the people must build their hope thereon. But still my uneasiness was not to be so allayed, for that foundation was so shaken, that my faith could not stand thereon, and I still grew uneasy; but although it was such a mystery to my natural conceiv­ings, that I could not fathom it; yet did [Page 13] I believe it was a matter necessary for a Christian to find, while in health, the bet­ter to support his illness, and help him to submit himself to the will of God in his death; and surely my soul was at this time under a weighty pressure, and although I was then ignorant what it was, I have since believed it was no less than the drawings of the Father's love: yet as the natural man discerneth not the things that be of God, so he knoweth not where to seek them. I was now encreas­ingly fervent in my prayers, thinking I wanted that zeal which I saw in others, I made new additions to my private, and waited with attention on my public de­votions; and sometimes went on with vi­gour in the repetition of those exercises.

About the seventeenth year of my age there came a bishop to the town, in or­der for a confirmation, which I thought was a singular good for me, for from that I conceived a steadier hope and faith in [Page 14] Christ would seize upon my soul, enter­taining thoughts that there was a peculi­ar power given to this high and holy function, from which I was to reap that which was divine; and surely I may say, I doubt not but the Invisible Being look­ed with compassion on the fervent desire of my soul, and viewed the reverential awe in which my mind, as well as my body, kneeled to receive the earnest of my wish; and I know that my behaviour, both before, at, and after that time, was taken notice of by my relations and in­timates.

A little while after, my uncle asked what I thought of receiving the sacra­ment. I told him I did not believe it was proper for so young persons to adven­ture; for, as it is said, "those who re­ceive it unworthily, do procure to them­selves damnation;" I durst not receive it. He told me of some that were as young as myself, and whom he thought as unfit: [Page 15] I told him I knew it, but they seemed to exalt themselves amongst their com­panions on account of that, which I durst not in the greatest humility, par­take of; neither did I find, that my faith was sufficiently ripe to comprehend the mystery betwixt the outward bread and wine, and the body and blood of Christ.

Here I began to flag in my hopes of my having received any benefit by the laying on of the bishop's hand, and what if I say, I staggered not only at one thing or two, but at all that I had done on a re­ligious account. Did I now believe there was no God? Oh no! but to my inex­pressible grief, I could not find how to worship him, so as to prove my own ac­ceptance, or the assurance that I longed for, nor could my soul rest without it.

Here had I laboured in my inven­tions, spent all my hopes, and as a person quite fatigued, sitting down, was made [Page 16] to bear such a mortification as I had never before known; to see myself dwindling away from that, which I thought was most expedient for me to be exercised in, and that my performances were no more than so many fleeting com­forts continually wasting in their fruition.

At last so heavily went I on, that I be­gan to be weary of them, and willing to leave the burden I had contracted in my own will. I found enough to do to go on with them in their course, for I sound I had got them only by tradition. This was a close time, wherein I was far from exaltation of any kind, for it was to me hard drawing on without faith, which I now concluded was the immediate gift of God. Under this belief I had to cry like the poor publican, "Lord have mer­cy on me;" and my soul was more justi­fied from these breathings, than it had ever been in all the wearisome labours I had engaged in. But the enemy, who [Page 17] is ever near to damp the good in us, troubled me with many of his sugges­tions, that it could never be the way to attain to happiness, to discharge myself of the worship due to God for his fa­vours; yet the more I gave way to the thoughts of flinging myself on the mercy of God, the more also I found a hope to spring within my soul, that the Lord would point out a way for me. This drew me still farther from all ceremo­nies, and gave my mind such a turn from those diversions I once took delight in, that my uncle and aunt took notice of it, and called it melancholy. But it was, to be sure, a deep solidity of thought, as not knowing in what manner or path I should be directed, how I should recover a proper sense of my afflictions, or obtain a satisfactory assurance. This pensive­ness my uncle and aunt used their en­deavours to prevent, and asked my ac­quaintance to visit me oftener; but their company so frequent, suited not my taste; [Page 18] those nights, that were spent in what I had once thought innocent amusements, were now made to procure dull morn­ings, and my desire of being alone, with the fatigue of so much hurry, put me on thoughts of shunning the occasions. I therefore desired my uncle to let me go out as a waiting-maid; but they would not hear of parting with me.

I being then past eighteen, we heard that S. Taylor was about selling off her shop, and going to live at Stafford. I de­sired my uncle to buy it for me, think­ing that such an employment might abate the perplexities I was in. I was then a stranger to her, and my uncle, who liked this proposal better than the first, being ever ready to please me, sent for her, and in a little time after, agreed that I should have the goods, and be with her at times for my better informa­tion of the business and customers. This gave that family and me our first ac­quaintance, [Page 19] though I had not the least thought at that time that ever I should have changed my name in respect to religion. Hence, however, many imagined my persuasion arose, of which I shall touch upon in its more proper place. I went at my own conveniency, according to our agreement, still keeping my exercise to myself; nor did I remark any thing particular in my new acquaintance, their more private exercises lying hid, as well as my own.

When the time came that I was to en­ter the shop, my uncle had so good an opinion of the Quakers, that he left the appraising of the goods entirely to her. I still boarded with him, and made it a constant rule to go directly home at night, when I shut the shop, and thus shunned my former associates: the day I spent in business, and part of the nights in much thought, the desire of my soul increasing after that revival of hope, [Page 20] which, as my little faith in what is called the service of God, still diminished, I found at times drawing me nearer to a reliance on him, and a patient waiting for what might follow.

Being about nineteen, we received an account of the death of my sister Lydia, for whom our family went into mourn­ing, and I not only mourned in clothes, but in heart, for I loved her more dearly than any sister I had, and may truly say, her death added to the weight of my ex­ercise, as well as to my belief, that it was requisite for me to know my own election to be sure; and, oh! the distress that I here was in! when I looked upon myself and others, to see them posting on with cheerfulness in the respective duties of their religion, and myself not only barren in my desires thereof, but my soul so oppressed in the performance, that I could neither assist my uncle, nor myself that way. Those that have [Page 21] known the activity of nature, can best judge of my state here, when my uncle, who used to shew me a deal of indul­gence, signified how joyed he was in my so good behaviour; saying, he could scarcely go into any sort of company, but they were speaking in my commend­ation. It was, indeed, a thing very pleas­ing to my kind uncle, who told me a little after, he would have me be pru­dent, for, says he, there are those eyes upon you that you are not aware of; and I believe he was then, in his own thoughts, near having his ambition con­cerning me gratified, which was, to see me happily settled in the world, and I conclude, that at this time, the parents of my associates had generally a respect for me; for, although I was of a brisk and lively disposition, yet was I, through the goodness of God, preserved from that which was immodest or profane, and kept within the bounds of what is termed innocent behaviour and good breeding. [Page 22] This engaged many, that had daughters, to encourage my company. But how soon did I see a turn in these affairs▪ for that which surely ought to have rais­ed me higher in their esteem, now seem­ed to prove my overthrow therein. So true it is, that the greater like, once turned, proves the greater dislike. But to go on; I could no longer remain under the cloud of insensibility; for the day spring from on high visited me, and the veil was so far rent, that I saw the work of God was in the secret of my heart, and that a spiritual worship must have place there.

I now remembered I had heard the Quakers recommend people to mind that of God in themselves, and to follow the teachings of the Spirit. This I thought looked something suitable to my condition; and indeed my mind seemed pressed to look at their doctrine again. In order to this, as I was not willing to [Page 23] be taken notice of, I went out between the times of service, as though I would walk. This was an exercise that was allowed by the most strict, to take off any drowsiness that might hang on the mind, and unfit it for the support of their evening devotions. Though this was not what I had a real necessity for, being one of good spirits, and before I knew the want of faith in my way of worship, was in my devotions zealous, in my diversions lively▪ and in my work industrious; yet here did I take this free­dom, because the meeting lay in my way, where I had a mind to inform my­self, and as I passed by the gate, would make a stop; but if I heard no voice, I soon went off; but if any one was speak­ing, I usually stepped within the door, the little end being, as I then thought, a good shelter to me from the eyes of those who sat in the body of the meeting. I used to make these visits as often as I could, and surely I have to say, the Lord [Page 24] was very condescending, and gave me a more clear understanding than ever I had found within myself at the other meetings I had been at, and which, from our house being so near, I had oportuni­ties of. My intentions were good in re­spect to these freedoms, and I used to stay as long as I durst for time, then take a turn down the next field, and so to my worship again; whereby to be sure I proved the effect which the different doctrines had on me, the former an­swering to the hope of that justification I have before spoken of, and the latter fruitless and dull; yet so far did I pro­ceed in the repeating of these trials, that I plainly saw it was with me like those that are hard to believe the things they would not have to be true; but so close did the truth and mercy of God follow me, that I found judgment in myself from the hand of the Almighty, for per­sisting in that which gave me not the least satisfaction. Here, how willingly [Page 25] would I have retained this old profession, that I had been brought up in from my childhood; and was as dear to my natural desires as Ishmael was to Abraham. But I saw it must not remain, and therefore I made a stop, and refused to go to church, so called, which my aunt would know the meaning of.

I had signified something of my unea­siness to my sister, who was coming down from London again, and she had told my aunt that I favoured the Quakers, and did not intend to go to church. This greatly incensed her, and she left me, saying, she would fetch out the par­son and people to carry me in. But so far had truth wrought with me, that I found I must not only venture that, but also struggle against the oppositions which I felt within myself.

The following night was spent in more confusion than common, and the [Page 26] next day my uncle and aunt went to the parson's, and sometime after sent for me. He looked on me with surprise, signifying his great mistake in one whom he had thought so religious and so good an ex­ample to others; for I was, indeed, a con­stant attender upon those called Saint's days, as well as other times set apart for worship. He asked me how long I had been uneasy. I told him a great while, and could not find that, in any thing I could do, I had any real satisfaction. He signi­fied that a perseverance in those duties I had been instructed in, was the only way, and would, no doubt, bring on that sa­tisfaction I spoke of. But, says he, your uncle is afraid you are going to be a Quaker. I answered, I believe not, though I have met with that satisfaction from their preaching, which I never met with elsewhere. He said, that was no more than a delusion of the grand enemy of our souls, and then set forth how dangerous a thing it was for young per­sons [Page 27] either to go to hear them, or read their books; saying theirs were seducing, erroneous principles, and he would have me promise, never to hear them any more.

Many heavy things he said of them, and asked me particularly about the fa­mily of the Taylors; these I could just­ly clear, and said, that neither they, nor any other person had ever endeavoured to insinuate their principles, or turn me from one profession to another. He then said, if I would desist from hearing them, or reading their books, I might do well, and through the continuance of my du­ties, and good company, might overcome my uneasiness [...], he said so much against [...] of the Quakers, that, [...] with the respect I had for the clergy, and the indifference I found in myself to the formalities, as I then term­ed the customs of the said people, I seem­ed resolved never to go to hear them [Page 28] again; saying, and that very truly, I would never be a Quaker, if I could help it: nor was I one till the desire of my soul after peace could be no other way satisfied; and no one could wrestle more to escape it than I did, as the fol­lowing account will shew:

Such now were my childish conceiv­ings, that though I had witnessed the work of God to be among them, yet I thought, could I but come to a possession of that which they preached, and which I found a [...]avour of in my heart, it would not then matter whether I attended on any form of worship or not. My uncle then said, Mr. Leay, who was the parson, would board me, and they th [...]ht very well of it. I understood hi [...] [...] and thank­ed him, but said, that would only give the town to believe there had been a dif­ference amongst us, and on condition they would be easy, I would see what I could do in going to church again. But [Page 29] I well remember, what a heavy trial it was; I went with so much indifferency, that it gave my uncle and aunt great un­easiness, and myself no less.

Not long after, parson Bennet sent for me to the widow Brueton's: he also ex­pressed himself surprised at his being so mistaken in me, saying, had it happened so with many others he should not have wondered half so much. We being more equal and intimate, I could be more free with him; he asked me if I was for be­ing a Quaker; I said, I do not know, yet I believe not. Why, said he, they deny the Scriptures! I said, if they do, I promise you I will never own them, but I know they do not. Why then, said he, they wrest them to their own destruction, and they deny baptism. I said they do of wa­ter, but they preach a baptism. Yes, said he, and a strange one too; put your fin­ger into that fire, a fire being in the room, and see how you can bear that [Page 30] baptism. This filled my mind with in­dignation, and I said, no, I scorn it; for I believe they no more mean elementary fire, than the baptism of elementary wa­ter. At this time I may conclude that neither he nor I knew that mysterious baptism, which my soul has at times since experienced. He went fluently on respecting the principles of the Qua­kers, setting some of them forth as quite ridiculous, and told me, if I could not believe him, he would lend me some of their own writings. I thanked him, saying, I was not in a disposition to read the sentiments of any one profession; and to be sure I was not, for even the scriptures themselves, in which I had been so conversant, and took delight, seemed now to me of little moment; and so great was my separation from all duties, that I found nothing left to trust in, but God alone. But to return, I said, I cannot judge them by their writ­ings, but I was assured they were so far [Page 31] in the right that, as God was a spirit, he must be worshipped in spirit and in truth. He said but little after, only, if you have got a notion of the spirit, you are past hopes.

The uneasiness of our family was now no longer a secret, my intimates, one af­ter another. would accost me by the name of flat-cap, friend; or deridingly ask, does the spirit move thee? with which, and such other mockeries, I must say my natural inclination was much buffetted, and now the storm began to be more boisterous, both within and with­out; my acquaintance abroad and my re­lations at home; but above these, the enemies of my own house, who were always ready, at each difficulty I met with, to turn the balance against my small hope, and by insinuating the ne­cessity of my being cautious, and delibe­rate in my proceedings, had run me such a length in trying to go on in the way [Page 32] that I was trained in, that the righteous judgments of the Almighty seized my soul again, and in so weighty a manner, that it made that heart, which used to spring with joy at the chiming of the bells, now to fear; that soul, which used to approach the consecrated house with reverence, now trembling at the entrance; and those steps, that used to advance to­wards the pew with pleasure, lost their former activity, and nothing but horror and darkness ensued, in the room of the once delightful scenes of prayer and praises unto God.

Oh! surely I have enough to remind myself of here, without particularizing the afflictions, which the anxious desire of my kind uncle and aunt, for my eter­nal welfare, produced. Such, I believed it was, and therefore endeavoured to bear them with submission and resigna­tion, as proceeding from a principle of love; indeed, I did all in my power to [Page 33] allay their trouble: the loss of their rest and appetite, and the continual disquiet of their minds, being a cause of real grief to me, under which, the little com­fort that I could find within myself was, that I was not accessary to it any farther than by studying to find the answer of a good conscience towards God, and an as­surance of that which might go with me beyond the grave: but this I could not find, in the present distressed situation of my mind, notwithstanding which, I secret­ly longed to [...]ear the Quakers once [...]e, and must account it a peculiar favour, that there came a young woman from Newcastle to visit us, as my uncle kept a strict eye over me, that I might have no opportunity of gratifying my de­sire; she was a stranger to our un­easiness, and my mind being still pressed to hear as above, I took her out, as though for a walk, and when we were near the meeting, asked her if she had a mind to hear the Quakers; she an­swered [Page 34] me willingly, yes; for, said she there is no meeting of that people at our town. I am sure, had she known the least of our family's uneasiness, she might have read my confusion in my looks when I asked her the question, and much more when I entered in at the door, and heard set forth the disadvan­tage those lay under, who halted between two opinions; proving, from the apos­tle's expressions, "that a double-minded man is unstable in all his ways;" and proceeding in that doctrine, it surely reached my hope and faith, that the Lord would still be gracious unto me. I had before known the witness of God that is placed in the heart, spoken to by several Friends, yet this unexpected testimony was so adapted to my present circum­stance, and answerable to the ardent de­sire of my mind, of being directed to that path which wo [...]ld lead me to the favour of God, that by this, and our non-acquaintance, all prejudice was re­moved, [Page 35] and a clench given to the nail of my new profession; for, though I did not immediately join the society, yet as I could not but assemble with some com­munity, I found it must be with those whose doctrines my soul now sucked in, with a resolution, and good intention, not to persist any longer in a way that I had no faith in, but to submit myself to the will of the Almighty, and to follow that which weaned my soul from a de­pendance on formal worship.

We returned home, she satisfied with her curiosity, and I no less with the hand of Providence in this thing; both filled with admiration, she at the whim­sies of the Quakers, and I at their doc­trine. We well resembled the two women at the mill, the one taken with the truth and the other left. I could have con­cealed where we had been, but she could not; my uncle was informed of it, yet did not take any notice while she staid, [Page 36] but when she was gone, he engaged him­self in liquor, as I have reason to believe he did one night before, in order to give a fuller vent to his passion, otherwise he would hardly have carried it so far above his own reason, as to use me as he did, that according to his own words, he had watched occasion to have chastised me as a child, yet could find no fault with me, which he thought could give him suffi­cient excuse for so doing; but now sure­ly he thought nothing was so cruel as to suffer me to run on to my ruin, both of body and soul.

About this time I had put by a young man whom my uncle thought was likely to make me happy; he had proposed to settle on me a sufficient jointure, and my uncle had offered, out of his own gene­rosity, to advance a hundred pounds in addition to what I had of my own; but here how different were our views, my uncle thought of the advancement of [Page 37] my body, and I was no less anxious for the welfare of my soul, for I could think of no delight but the immediate favour of God, and this, (as I apprehended it stood opposed to my new proposals) I must prepare to suffer for.

My uncle, as I have observed, being much in drink, was violent in his beha­viour, though I could well cover all, as to his intentions, one rash expression except­ed, which escaped him in the conclusion of that night's disorder; and which I mention, to shew the reason of my departure from them, and to give an idea how it fared with me. He said, if I ever went to the meeting again, he would bereave me of my life. I stood trembling, yet receiv­ed the threat in a tender state of mind, and I could perceive he suffered for it the next moment. My life was not much in my notice, neither could I be­lieve my uncle would execute his vow; but oh this separation overwhelmed m [...] [Page 38] mind with sorrow; for I found, at that moment that I durst not flinch from the truth with which my mind had been impressed, nor could I think of leaving my nearest relations thus.

Many thoughts revolved within me, and many tears flowed, under the consi­deration of my unhappy circumstance, as I then termed it. The enemy of my soul here manifested his malice, by sug­gesting to me, how unlikely I was to obtain any conquest over either myself or my relations; and that my rash pro­ceedings might bring on a massacre. But here has my soul to commemorate the condescension of Divine Goodness, which, in this very low state, inspired my mind with some encouragement; and a desire prevailed, though I sought it not, to re-establish my little faith, by again hearing the most penetrating word; and I concluded it would be best, to mo­derate my uncle and aunt's passion by returning directly back from meeting to [Page 39] my own apartment, which was furnished with a bed and some few necessaries, bought at my entrance upon the shop; I had hopes they would look upon my so doing with a favourable eye, and when their hurry was a little over, send for me home.

They did not miss me till I came from that meeting, and thought fit to let me stay where I was till the next. They then sent a person to see if I was there; but I did not find an engagement in my­self to go, either at that time, or for some weeks after; nor was I so much taken with this new fangle, as my un­cle called it, as to force my inclina­tion in the least degree; for, could I have indulged myself in the persuasion, that one might serve God acceptably, without going to any public worship, I could, with ease, have remained sepa­rate from all. This deliberation, how­ever, gave encouragement, as well as [Page 40] opportunity, for my old acquaintance to visit me by turns; the youngest sort to shew their wit, by railing at what they called the principles of the Qua­kers; and the more grave to set forth, according to their notion, the diabolical tenets of that people; whilst, as one struck dumb, I had but little to say in reply; only, at times, would signify that their doctrine bespoke better things; but as I had not yet obtained knowledge, by a perusal of their writings, I durst not attempt, nor did I desire, to be busy in making any defence for them. My mind, indeed, had not hitherto inclined to consult either men or books, lest thereby I should be seduced to believe what was not of God; for I plain­ly saw, that nothing short of what was so, would satisfy my soul; and I may say, in thankfulness to that Eternal Power, which still preserved me, their arguments did not abate my travail of soul after the Divine favour; and, [Page 41] though I hope I never was one wise in my own conceit, yet so far did the truth of God in the secret of my soul exalt it­self, that I proved its influences to be more wise than all my teachers, who, at best, were but as the hammer to the nail, in fastening in my soul the impressions which I had received.

In this situation, my uncle also visited me, and the sternness of his countenance was altered. He kindly signified to me, how hard our separation was to them. and if I would but bind myself by a pro­mise, that I would never be a Quaker, he would give me a deed of gift, that at his and my aunt's decease, I should have all they were worth. I answered him, if I could make such a promise, I wanted no farther encouragement than the continuance of their love; but, oh! I could not do it. We both sat and wept our passion out. My uncle men­tioned my leaving them so abruptly, but, [Page 42] instead of inviting me home, he signified he could now take no pleasure in seeing me, without an alteration.

In a little time I found the balm of Eternal Goodness, which healed the wound my mind had been made to en­dure on truth's account.

There came a young man to visit me that had been a student, and had receiv­ed Orders with a Benefice, not one of the most thoughtful, as will appear. Af­ter the compliment of, Madam, how do you do? and I had thanked him, he said, why I hear you are turning a Quaker. I answered, we sometimes hear that which is not altogether true; but I sup­pose what you have to say. Why then, said he, there must be a great change in you; and a deal of sobbing and sighing, and thouing and theeing. And pray, said I, what have you against that language? Why, said he, it is not within the line of [Page 43] morality, or common civility; but what is used betwixt men and their beasts, and more fit to be used to brutes than men. I replied, I am very sorry you should think I have already forgotten my­self; but I remember, and know, it is that language which we, in all our pray­ers, and in the Litany, put up our peti­tions [...] therefore, take heed what you say, fo [...] by your saying it is sit to be used only to brutes and beasts, of what do you make your God? O, says he, I perceive you side with the Quakers: yes, so far, said I, as to believe that language good enough for man, which is used in ho­nouring of God.

He went off, nor was it long before my uncle made me his second visit. As I now seemed to him at a stand, dubious with whom to join, he laid before me the profession of the Presbyterians, say­ing, he would freely give me leave to join with them. But from the know­ledge [Page 44] I had of those people, whilst twice at Manchester, I knew they dwelt much upon the same things I was in the prac­tice of before; therefore was not likely to find with them the satisfaction I was in pursuit of. My uncle further pro­posed, to take the shop and bear the loss he might sustain in the selling it off, if I would chuse a place agreeable to board at, in any other town; for he thought the removing me out of the way of shame and disgrace, as he called it, might be a means to alter my resolution. But the idea I had conceived of spiritual wor­ship, was so fixed in my breast, that it seemed to me, had I been removed to to uttermost corner of the earth, I must have carried it with me. I signified this to him, and he, much wondering at my foolishness, left me with saying, I was certainly bewitched. Indeed, I myself could not, at times, but wonder what it was poised my soul against the many hard things I met with from others, and [Page 45] the secret temptations that daily present­ed themselves to my own mind, which so filled it, that, in the little sleep I got, I frequently dreamed of something rela­tive to my exercises.

In one of my dreams, a man was pre­sented to me, coming up to my door with a sieve in his hand, and a bag. He sat down, and opening the bag, put out some wheat into the sieve. I asked him what he was going to do; he said, to separate the chaff from the wheat. Here the enemy shot his empoisened dart against that fear which lodged in me, and, through his insinuations, made me believe myself the chaff, blown from my former quietness, by aspiring after the knowledge of things too high for me; and oh! the consternation that my soul was in from these assaults of this enemy, who now ripped up every miscarriage of my life, and all my foolish actions, as so ma­ny witnesses against me, whilst I endea­voured [Page 46] to withstand him by repentance, and purposes of amendment, pleading with myself the just ground of my present proceeding. But as I had not the evi­dence of my hope at my own command, I was obliged to suffer, till I was again revived by the mercies of a God, who would not break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoaking flax.

In this interval, my uncle came with parson Leay again, and still with hopes, from my staying at home, that they might gain me; but they found their mistake: for, though I said but little, I was as resolute in myself, to prove the truth as ever. We sat down, and the parson offered to take, in writing, any scruples I had to make, promising either to answer them himself, or get them an­swered by the bishop. I acknowledged his kindness; saying, I did not see how any one could be serviceable to me, fo [...] it was faith I wanted in the whole, He [Page 47] signified, it was not for the unlearned to pry into the matter of faith, but to be­lieve according to the canons of the church; going on largely in commenda­tion of the wisdom and great care there had been amongst the learned fathers, that there might be no default or error in the articles of our faith; from thence inferring, that it was requisite we should believe them. I signified I could not place my trust in man, but had received a better faith already; and that I did be­lieve, I ought to seek God for myself. He said, you are obstinate, and if you do not take care, you will renounce your vow of baptism. I answered, I do not find that troubles me; for I hold it as a matter of indifference, which will nei­ther do me good nor hurt. He said, you are hardened; and if you persist on, you will be damned. This struck us silent; and as soon as I could take my looks off him, I cast them on my dear uncle, whose eyes plainly bespoke his grief. The [Page 48] parson got up, and said, you have need of the prayers of the congregation; I said, I know I have need of the prayers of all good people, and desire to have them. As they passed the shop, I heard him say something of my being quite lost, and my uncle shook his head, and left me in abundance of sorrow.

This was a double and treble trial to me, for the enemy aimed his dart again to give the fatal blow▪ by insinu­ating into my mind, the doctrine of elec­tion and reprobation; which strengthen­ed those doubtings my late conversation had raised. What had I here to do? no person in the world to flee to, with whom I could entrust my soul! no book to try my cause by! the Bible itself being still to me as if written in an unknown tongue! no God or Saviour at hand, nor even any comfortable desire that I was sensible of! Read, in these expressions, the deep afflictions of my soul, thus ly­ing [Page 49] under the tramplings of a most des­perate fiend! Could I have found just reasons for his upbraiding me with my lightness, it would at this time have cer­tainly appeared; or could I have believ­ed that God was unjust, and would in­flict eternal punishment on the innocent, or on a sinner that was willing to turn from every evil way; I say, could I have reconciled this to his attributes of mercy and goodness, I must assuredly have fallen by these suggestions of the cruel deceiver, who now appeared to me in the most surprising manner; pro­ducing that exercise which, to this pre­sent time, gives me astonishment: for, one night, as I lay in bed, on a sudden, a voice, as I thought, audible and like my own, cursed the Lord, and defied Heaven; saying now an [...] I damned, for I have sinned against the Holy Ghost, which will never be forgiven. When the words were passed I found myself in a maze, and immediately flung my­self [Page 50] upon my face, crying out, Oh, Lord! forgive me! but it's not me, yet, oh, Lord! forgive me. Thus, in confusion, went I on, sometimes begging for forgiveness, and denying the fact; and when I did so far recover myself, as to know how I was, I found myself, from the agony that I had been in, all over in a sweat; and the bed, whereon I lay, for some time after, shook with the strong trembling of my body; and it was a considerable time ere I could compose myself; yet when I could, I found my great God did not accuse me; but encouraged the sincerity of my desire to look up to him, as God, who mercifully saveth those that trust in his providence; and is willing to re­mit the past transgressions of the truly penitent. And here did I prove my hop [...] renewed, and my faith established; yet, even here did I stumble at the ho­nour I had been taught to give to those divine oracles, as I esteemed the clergy; and thought I must surely be mistaken, [Page 51] in supposing there was [...] more in them than other men; nor yet could I well step over the stream of their learning. and set the illiterate, as I had been taught to call them, on an equal footing of wisdom, with the high title of right reverend. Yet here did my God help me; thus, one evening as I sat, low in mind, musing by myself, the Everlasting Truth seized upon me, in an exposition of that remarkable thanksgiving of our Saviour, when he said, "I thank thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes." This immediate favour, from the loving kindness of the Lord, had a vast influence over me; I arose from my chair, and fell upon my knees to receive the overshadowings of his power; and such was its effect, that by its assistance, I did let out from my soul, a few words of supplication to the Lord, begging a farther manifestation of his [Page 52] will, and his preservation therein. This, I apprehend, was the most lively prayer I ever had then made.

When I had waited for a time on my knees, I remembered that I had read the passage, yet desired to look at it again. I had no Bible of my own, my aunt having taken it from me, telling me I should have no use for it, as indeed I had not much till this time; yet, being provided with one, I looked for the text, and casting my eye upon it, found a great alteration in myself, and cause to say, surely the Lamb of God is found worthy to take the book, and to open the seals thereof; and from this time I knew it was not in my power to read the scrip­tures in their right signification, but only as I had the key of interpretation lent me, which I did now often receive, to my great profit and consolation. Thus became I again familiar with my book, and prized that good companion [Page 53] more justly than ever I had done in all my life; desiring to be kept in the way I was to go; and have bread to eat, and raiment to put on, and to be returned to my Father's house, in peace; con­cluding that the Lord should be my God.

Whilst I resigned myself to his holy will, it pleased the Almighty to shew me, it was not right that I should thus be­lieve, and yet live alone, without assem­bling myself with those that I was satis­fied were believers in the same Divine Prinoiple, neither do I now think it would have been good or right; for, as sure as the Lord thought proper, in his wisdom, to provide helpmates for the body, so surely does he condescend to qualify many of his faithful servants, to be helpful in a spiritual sense, to each other. I therefore believed it was right for me to attend meetings, in order to retain my favour with him.

[Page 54] In this my aunt did not interrupt me till I had been a few times: this I might readily excuse, for, indeed, I had enough to do within myself; the tears I shed at my entrance at the door, and pre­senting myself before the Invisible Be­ing, were so many renunciations of my own will. I used to sit down at the first or the nearest seat I came to; yet so well did it answer, that what I sowed in tears, at my getting there, I reaped with joy at my coming away.

As I went with a soul desirous of im­provement, I was often highly favoured, and had to remember S. Radford's re­commendation to me, to buy the truth and sell it not, as also to be convinced of the justice of the Almighty; and, that man's destruction is of himself. I think it was about, or a little after this time, that I heard my now uncle, Jo­shua Toft, give in his testimony for the truth, and remember it was as one hav­ing [Page 55] authority, pressing friends to come out of Babylon: and exhorting them, not to partake with her, of her sins, lest they should also be partakers of her plagues; and though I was but very young in the truth, yet the Lord was pleased so to enlighten my understand­ing, that I read him spiritually, and was made a partaker of that life from which the power came. Nor do I forget the en­couragement which I received from ano­ther friend, when, like a shower of the former and latter rain, he watered the plantation of the Lord, by setting forth the blessedness with which he will re­ward those who forsake all for his name's sake, &c. But, though I could take de­light, yet I was not to build a tabernacle here, my troubles were not quite over; for, though my aunt let me go free, a few times, yet she proposed to perplex me in my new design, by aggravating the pas­sions she found in herself, and by giving way to the foolish excitations of others.

[Page 56] The first time she met me, in my go­ing to meeting, was with a whip, and the next with a black hood and green apron; but I shall endeavour to be as quick here as I can, for I cannot well, nor do I desire to remember the foolish pains she took to mortify me; yet do I find myself engaged, gratefully to ac­knowledge, that I was preserved above all the ridicule I met with; though, to many I was a subject of entertainment and diversion. Some, however, seemed to have compassion for me, though I cannot say that I knew, at that time above three or four. Amongst these there was one that frequently expressed a concern for my preservation, and offer­ing to assist me in having my aunt bound over to her good behaviour; but I found myself more desirous to be preserved in a proper decorum towards her.

There was another of my well-wishers, who advised me to leave the town; pro [...] ­fering [Page 57] me a room in their house, and liberty to sell my goods with them. This, I must ever acknowledge, was a kind part; but, though they pressed my compliance, I could not find an incli­nation thereto; for I conceived, that quitting the town would look as though I had done some bad thing; and I knew no one could, justly, say any worse thing of me, than that I was a Quaker. There­fore, though I could willingly have been out of the noise that my change had occasioned, yet I rather chose to commit myself to that hand, which I now believed could preserve me, and submit to the con­fusion of this time, till my God should say, it is enough; not doubting, but these things were permitted for the trial of my faith: yet, so far did their kindness pre­vail, that I inclined to ask farther ad­vice upon it; and, as S. Leay had been a few times to ask me how I did, I told him my desire, and requested him to procure me an opportunity of speaking [Page 58] with one of the friends, Toft; he asked me which; I said, either of the three brothers, that I could most conveniently go to, without my uncle or aunt's get­ting intelligence of it; for I was much more troubled at their abuse of others, than of myself. He told me the next day, that he had spoken to Samuel Toft, who was willing to give me the hearing that night.

Accordingly I went in the dusk of the evening, Nicodemus like; though not so much for the shame of the thing, which I now was so used to, as for fear that my aunt should get knowledge of it; and did not know, by the name of Samuel, which was to receive me; but, knocking at the door, he let me in, to whom I paid my compliments; and, after sitting down, introduced our discourse, by signifying, I supposed he was no stranger to the hurry of the town, and the angry mood my uncle and aunt were in concerning me; [Page 59] I signified I could not help it, but that, notwithstanding this, I found myself en­gaged to join the society: I farther told him, of the kind proffer made me, but as doubting in my mind what would be for the best, I had a desire to ask advice. He told me that going was the likeliest way to rid myself of those troubles; but asked if I had no hopes of my relations being better humoured. I told him, no; but was rather afraid they would be worse, for they said they could never rest while I was a Quaker. He then said, it was a nice point to give advice in, for who can tell what thy relations may do in their anger, or how thou thyself canst bear it; perhaps the surest way to be quiet from them is, to accept the pro­posals of thy friends.

This however, was not what I ex­pected, nor, indeed, what I desired; and to bring him more over to my views, I said, Do you think, Sir, there is room to [Page 60] believe I shouldbe presumptuous, if I should stay, and receive an injury from them? He said, he thought not, so long as I gave them no just occasion; and add­ed, Young woman, what dost thou think is best thyself? I answered, that I would not, willingly, run myself into danger, neither act any way purposely to provoke them; nor yet do I see how I can, at this time fly from their anger, and leave the town, without giving myself secret un­easiness. To this he replied, that, to be sure, we ought to mind; for we might go out of one trouble into another, and perhaps a worse. He further asked me, how I thought I could bear the trial; saying, I had already known something of an exercise of this kind. I said, Yes, I have; and, the truth I have sound so much on my side, that I have been hi­therto supported through it, and now do not doubt, but if I should lose my life, in the way of my relations' anger, my soul would still be happy. He signified, [Page 61] if such was my belief and my resolu­tion, he could say nothing better to me than, Go on and prosper.

I then, wishing him the compliment of the night, returned, desiring to re­main stedfast to what, I apprehended, was my duty; but when at home, I could not forbear reflecting on the small assurance I had given my friend; and more so, on what an odd appearance, for a Quaker, I had made; for, besides my speech, I went in my full trim. I had on my hoop, rings on my fingers, and ear-rings in my ears; my clothes, in­deed, were black and white crape mourn­ing, which I wore for my beloved sister, and therefore my linen was without lace; neither was I thoughtful, at this time, about my outward dress, my work lay more within; neither did my friend re­gard my appearance so much, as to make him overlook the intentions of my heart, for Samuel Leay told me, the next time [Page 62] he saw me, that S. Toft said, he was sa­tisfied there was that within me, that would prevail on me to lay my com­pliments aside; nor was it long ere I found it my place so to do, which I must leave to mention; a probable reason why I was not allowed to give my friend a fuller assurance; and which may also shew how blind I was to my own state, and how much need I had to crave the illu­minating ray of Divine light? to steer my course by; for, though I seemed, to myself, to be quite fixed in my purpose, yet I soon found, by experience, how weak I was.

I received a letter from my dear bro­ther, who kindly gave us a visit on the death of my sister. The letter gave me an account, that he had heard, from my uncle, the melancholy affair that was amongst us; describing the fanatical and fantastical deportment of those I was about joining with; the utter mistake they lay under, in respect to the doctrines of [Page 63] Christ, and giving me a kind invitation to come to him, with a promise to take care of me and my fortune. He affec­tionately mentioned an opportunity he had of placing me with a near relation of his wife's, who was a millener in the city, if I liked that business; and concluded, in much brotherly love, and with desires for my welfare every way.

This so sensibly touched the natural affection I had for him, that had I not been favoured, from the Most High, with a sight of the snare which my ene­my had laid for me, I should certainly have accepted of this offer, from my on­ly brother, the consideration of whose love, in this instance, and of the grief I had given my other near and dear rela­tions, caused me to turn my exercises round and round again; and to intro­spect the cause thereof. In this affect­ing survey, many were my secret suppli­cations to the Lord, for his preservation [Page 64] and assistance, that thereby the enemy might be defeated in all his stratagems. Thus was I attacked on my weakest side, for this tender treatment, from my brother, and my uncle's three last visits gave me more affectionate concern, than all their abuses. But now I was to answer the letter, and I did it so thoroughly, ac­cording to that wisdom, which my Hea­venly Father was pleased to favour me with, that I never heard any more from my brother on that subject; but, when­ever afterwards he wrote to me, it was in great love and respect.

I had, through the condescensions of the inexpressible love of my God, sur­mounted many difficulties and doubt­ings in my own mind; yet had I divers trials still to wade through, as now will appear.

The alteration of my speech was in this manner: one morning, as I lay in [Page 65] bed, a weighty exercise came closely over my mind; and as I waited to know the cause, it came before my view, that I must use the plain language. I had this at times under my notice be­fore, and now had hardly time to recon­sider the thing, and prove it was the truth, ere my aunt knocked. I knew her step, which made me to tremble, and therefore made no great haste to dress; but as I knew I must submit, I went to­wards the door, saying, Who is there? What dost thou want? she said, Let me in, and I will tell thee. I did not in the least question that; and she quickly let me know it, by many threatenings of what she would do, if ever I thou'd her again. I could not but think it was a very hard allotment to me, that I must begin this required alteration with my aunt; yet, from the satisfaction which I felt in my own breast, I was encouraged in the truth, and from that time I did not shrink from that part of my testimony, except [Page 66] to my aunt, who I did no ways delight to vex, and therefore, as much as possi­ble, evaded the singular language; and yet, rather than use the plural, would many times break the thread of our dis­course; till I plainly saw it would not do, and that I must either break my peace, or commit myself to my aunt's fury. This I soon experienced, from using the word thee to her; it so inflamed her, that, as there stood a fire-shovel in her way, she took it up, and struck at me. My sister being in the little room, catch­ed hold of it, or she would probably have done as she had threatened, for the room, or closet, behind the shop was so narrow, that I had no room to draw back. Thus was I once more preserved; but had reason to fear I should yet be the cause of bringing my aunt to much disgrace, as she often declared, she be­lieved it was no more sin to kill me, than a dog.

[Page 67] I found she had heard of my being advised to leave the town; and, I be­lieve, I suffered much for that kindness of my friends. My aunts hopes seemed now, that either they would draw me, or she should drive me out of the town, saying, if I would be a Quaker, I should not be one in her sight. And now, again, I had the former kind proffer renewed; P. Meller sent me an invitation to come to Whitehaugh, for a quarter of a year, till my aunt should be better reconciled. This was indeed a kind invitation from one that I had never spoken to: and I might have gone for any business or school that I then had; for my aunt's behaviour had so frighted the scholars, that their parents thought fit to keep them at home; and, had it not been for the sake of seeing one called a Quaker, I should hardly have sold so many trifles as I did; but there seemed a general curiosity to see me.

[Page 68] Standing, thus, as an object of disdain and derision, I could willingly have ac­cepted the kind invitation of my friends; yet, when I cast my eye toward the Cap­tain of my Salvation, I found I had not liberty to move; and, therefore, with an acknowledgement of their kindness, passed it by.

Another proof of my aunt's unguarded passion soon after occurred, which was this: we were sitting together in the little room, as we very often did, and it was drawing towards the middle of the night; when, in the course of our conversation, she obliged me to use that language which she could not bear, and a brass candlestick standing betwixt us, she flung it at me with such force, that it dinged against the wall; I had just time to see her intention, and, by bowing my body, escaped the blow. Thus did David's God again preserve me, for the sake of the stem of Jesse, that now began to bud [Page 69] within my breast; and although I stood here in jeopardy of body, yet was I mer­cifully preserved in stability of soul, and in a supporting belief that I was in the way of my duty, and favoured with hope as an anchor in this assurance, that if it pleased the Lord to permit the death of the mortal part, he would be pleased to let his mercy light on my immortal soul, and I should die as a martyr to my saith in Christ; yet, a fear for my aunt prevailed over me, and though I had concealed her carriage towards me as much as possible, yet this I durst not conceal, least I should be chargeable with the consequence. I therefore de­sired my sister to tell my uncle of this violent action, and my fears. He return­ed for answer, that whatever treatment I met with, was good enough for me; and as to my aunt, it was impossible to keep her at home.

The grief that I passed under, for fear [Page 70] of my aunt's going quite distracted, was great, and the bowings-down of soul and body were frequent, with earnest suppli­cation to the Almighty for the preserva­tion of us both: she in her senses, and me in the way of my duty towards him, and in a justifiable behaviour to my uncle and aunt. I believe my uncle had, at that time, more compassion for me than he would suffer to be seen: he had my aunt talked to, and would not suffer her to come at such unseasonable hours again; for she had several times before spent most of the night with me alone, and what I then received from her, the Almighty knows, and, indeed, did make it up to me in her reconciliation after­wards. Her nightly visits here ended, but they had been so long continued, late and early, that I had habituated myself to spend the nights, (as I used to keep a fire) in the little closet. I sat much there, and when it was bed-time, (if my aunt was absent) would put my candle out, [Page 71] and sit as still as I could, lest I should be suspected of keeping disorderly hours.

I had here no intimate to converse with, or encourage me, and was left as a person quite alone; but the immediate visitations of divine favour, at times, did most graciously establish my faith; and when almost overwhelmed, would, in the condescendings of his compassion, direct my mind to some passage in the Scriptures for my consolation; and I seldom read, or contemplated on them without tears; yet how quickly did I lose the sight and effect of these favours; whilst, like a traveller, driven away from the haven of his happiness by contrary winds, I was forced by grief into a con­fusion of thoughts, and have frequently sat under the violent suggestions of the enemy till two, three, four, or five in the morning; and was sometimes no sooner in bed, than my aunt would call me up. It is hardly credible how little sleep I [Page 72] went with: but, surely, I sympathized with my uncle and aunt in the affliction I gave them. My meat was to me as trifling as my sleep, wherein I proved on what a little nature will subsist; my meals were no ways constant, a bit of bread and cheese, with a little water; or a little milk and bread and butter, with a dish of tea, were my only food for months! nor had I any desire after any thing else, till necessity obliged me to alter my course.

My aunt, though under some restraint, used to tell me, she would make me suf­fer yet; saying, no one had any business with what she did to me. One market­day, she followed me as I went behind the counter, and kept me there for some hours; though I desired her to let me go, yet she would not; nor did I chuse to put her away, she saying, she would hear my language to day: I was, indeed, under some exercise, and desirous to do [Page 73] my duty in the sight of the Divine Be­ing, though I was apprehensive I must suffer for it. When any one came into the shop, she told them, I was the new-made Quaker; and filled those who were strangers to her with admiration of us both; and I may say, I blushed as much for her as for myself. Each time she thus exposed me, she held me by the left arm, which was next to her; and when I used the plain language she pinched me very bad; and so often renewed her pinche [...], that it was very hard for me to bear them; yet I saw no way to help it without using her as I never had done, and bringing guilt on myself; I therefore endeavoured to hold out a little longer; and have since wondered how I bore it without the least com­plaint. She had, indeed, inured me to suffer; and, from my behaviour at the first, would often say, the Quakers had taught me; and if she smote me on one cheek, I must turn the other. She tried [Page 74] me so, that I many times desired her to forbear. I had no hopes that she would regard my petition, but as my arm and hand were very visibly swelled, I wished them to plead for me; and, by often look­ing at them, brought them under her no­tice: when she tauntingly said, I doubt I have hurt thy arm; and in a little time went off. When she was gone, I tried to unbutton my sleeve, but my arm being so prodigiously swelled, I could not.

Doctor Gravesnor's daughter, know­ing my aunt had been with me a long time, and seeing her go out, stepped in, and helped me to unbutton my sleeve, and, seeing the condition I was in, went for her father. When my wristband was loose, my hand and arm swelled to such a degree, that, before the Doctor came, I could scarcely shut my fingers. When he saw my arm, he said it was a very bad bruise; it seemed, for the compass of the palm of my hand, to be like a jelly, [Page 75] and exceeding black toward the shoulder. The Doctor seemed surprised, and said, he was afraid it would mortify; then went home, and quickly returned with a medicine. He was one who always had shewn me great respect; and his daugh­ters were my scholars, till my aunt thought proper to break up my school. I believe it was both from his respect and fear for me, that he took the freedom (after he had dressed my arm) to scold and blame me for my foolish, childish sufferance; saying, my case was dan­gerous, and I might lose my arm, if not my life; yet continued saying, he would do all in his power to prevent it. I told him I was satisfied with his kindness and judgment; and surely, was more willing, at that time, to give up my life than my arm: yet did I struggle in the secret of my mind to submit to the will of God; and the Doctor, seeing my tears fall, said, Nay, indeed, you have enough to bear, without being chid; and [Page 76] so I found; for, besides my inward ex­ercise, his application was very sharp: He often signifying, he was afraid of the bone; and saying, it was such a piece of cruelty, as sure no person in their senses could be guilty of. He staid with me a good while, repeating the dressings often, which still renewed my pain. My fin­gers were swelled, stiff, and useless, for I could neither close nor stir them. The Doctor asked me, who I had to be with me, since I left my uncle's; and said, that now I could not do without assistance; and charged his daughter not to leave me, till I had got somebody. When he left me, he directly sent for my uncle, and told him how unchristian-like my aunt had used me: saying, she was more [...]it to be bound, than go loose: and that he ought not to suffer her to come to me. My uncle promised she should not: yet this did not move his pity, so as to in­duce him to come and see me, which was what I greatly desired.

[Page 77] It was a month after this, before I could turn my arm behind me, to dress myself. My sister was sent to school at Manchester before this, for fear, as I have thought, of her catching the infec­tion of a Quaker; nor did I much repine at the loss of her company, for I had found out, that she had carried very treacherously betwixt us. I had but few in this illness that came to see me; yet I heard that many were displeased at my aunt. Among those few that came, my present aunt, S. Whitehead, was one; and her visit was very acceptable, though I had then no acquaintance with her. She spoke to my encouragement, and invited me, when I was better, to come to see her; which I could willingly have done, but thought proper to delay some time, for fear my aunt should know it, who spared no one, that she heard did but in a friendly way speak to me.

S. Taylor, at this time, lived with [Page 78] John Winter, at Stafford; and, long be­fore this, (seeing my uncle and aunt's groundless dislike to that family) I had desired they would not visit me often; they saw my motive, excused the free­dom I took with them, and, when I went to them, behaved to me in a loving and free manner.

Here I ought not, and hope I never shall forget the best of visitors, the In­visible Comforter; who, in a good de­gree, made my af [...]ictions easy, and consolated my spirit, under a belief that I still was persevering in the way of my duty.

From the encouragement that I thus met within myself, was I excited, as soon as proper, to endeavour to go to meeting again; and when I was so far recovered that I could dress myself, I thought, from the weakly state I was in, it would be better for me to board in a family, [Page 79] that I might be in the way of getting such provision as my constitution re­quired, which never was very strong, and was now much impaired by excess of trouble, and the different course of living which I had of late been in.

As there was a door that went out of the chamber of my apartment into the other part of the house, I thought it convenient that I should board with Tho­mas Turnock, who lived there, and was well satisfied therein.

I had now some hopes, from my aunt's absence during the last month, that she would no more interrupt me in my go­ing to meeting; but soon found them frustrated, whether by accident or information, I know not; for, one day, when I came to the corner, near my uncle's house, I saw her com­ing towards me: the thoughts of the Doctor and my arm quickly occured; [Page 80] and I concluded, should I suffer it to be hurt again, the consequences would be very bad. As I was at liberty, it seemed right to keep so, and make the best of my way; yet, so fettered did I find my­self, that, before I had gone many yards I faultered in my purpose, and my aunt got up with me, before I was half way to the meeting.

I now saw my mistake, and that it would have been better if my aunt had overtaken me sooner; for the place looked dangerous, and the want of room to shake and push me about in, gave me many apprehensions that she would throw me headlong down the pre­cipice. It was about the time that friends were going into the meeting, and this vexed her the more; for I have rea­son to believe she could not endure the sight of a friend, on my account. She did not spare to tell me of hurting my arm, nor to shake me by it; but as it had [Page 81] some folds of flannels round it, it was preserved. My endeavouring to out-walk her was not suddenly forgot; she, many times after, making mention of it, and would signify that God was above the wicked spirit still.

Thus, with many admonitions and ex­hortations, as she called them, she kept me till such time as she might expect the meeting would break up, and then left me.

As I was at liberty, I went towards the meeting, and, as it was not over, stepped within, that my aunt might know that my intention was resolute. This seemed to be as a renewal of our acquaintance, for she soon returned her visits as usual, though not at the former unseasonable hours.

I have, many times, seriously reflected how it was with me in these straights, [Page 82] and may acknowledge, my composure of soul was owing to a divine power, which stayed my mind on God, and kept down those passions of nature, which other­wise might have exceeded their bounds. But, oh! the calmness and tranquillity that did in these times of trial possess my heart, whilst innocency prevailed over shame; and I found, by submission to these lessons of mortification, that I grew in patience and resignation, in the desire after the Lord's favour, and the manifes­tation of his will, who had wrought my heart into so good a degree of submission, that I was willing to undergo, or be termed any thing, rather than lose the enjoyment of that in which I had now got a small possession.

It was about this time that I knew an extacy of joy at the freely giving up my name to that, which I once thought the most despicable. There came a Lon­don harberdasher to my shop, with whom [Page 83] I dealt in my way of business: he ap­proached me in his accustomary manner; and I, not answering his compliment, as usual, he looked full at me, and said, Are you a Quaker? My soul was struck by this home question; I solemnly an­swered, yes; and immediately a spring of joy seized my heart, accompanied with this desire, viz. Not only a Qua­ker, Lord; but grant me to be an Israel­i [...]e indeed.

From this time I found my desires were strengthened, and the ambition of being an Israelite, run in the current of my exercise. But here, I cannot but remark, how like a fool I appeared in my own eyes; for there seemed as great an alteration in me as could possibly hap­pen from such a change. I could not now be fluent in compliments, and saw it best to keep out of the extravagancy of words, and such a latitude in dis­course as I formerly indulged myself in. [Page 84] So many cross words and knotty queries lay in the way of all I seemed to have to do, that nature was abashed, almost be­yond the hope of recovery; yet I often contemplated the benefit that accrued to Zaccheus from that most heavenly call, Make haste, and come down: and how willingly would I have made my situa­tion similar to his; believing there was something in that call alluding to the glories of eternity; which now appeared in brighter lustre to my eye, than all the glittering objects of a transitory life. Surely, the time would glide sweetly on in reciting those refreshing prospects which then attended my intervals of grief; but the sequel of my story calls on me to cross my inclination.

It was about this time John Toft gave me an expectation of a visit; but that evening I was threatened with a disap­pointment; for, my aunt came in high displeasure, and by her upbraidings, raised [Page 85] a crowd about the door, which was the occasion of his passing by. When she had wrought herself into a disposition to be more quiet, she shut the door and sat down. I turned out of my mind the thoughts of her unkind behaviour, yet could not help feeling regret at the loss of the friend's company, being de­sirous to see him, as he had been instru­mental for my good. Whilst I was mu­sing on these things, a messenger came and told me, that although my aunt was there, if I thought it convenient, he would come to see me. I hesitated a little, to prove what would be best. I knew my aunt's weakness, that she would not spare me, or mind, in her pas­sion, what she expressed; yet hoped, as it was his desire to come, he would ex­cuse what might fall upon himself, and see through the falsities she might cast on me.

In this conclusion I desired his com­pany, [Page 86] and my aunt being present, said she would stay to see this friend. On his knocking, I let him in, with a degree of fear, and watched to hear the saluta­tion she gave him; which was, "Thou deceiver! thou antichrist! thou hast se­duced this silly wretch." Had she known what my heart could have told her, she might have thought differently; for, on the appearance of the friend, I was made very sensible of that power by which I had been drawn into the truth.

He endeavoured to shew her the unreasonableness of her charge, by assuring her, he had never had any conversation with me, nor had visited me before. She answered, If thou hast not, thy brethren have, and was run­ning on with violence against the Qua­kers; he still tried to engage her atten­tion, by reminding her that his mother and she used, as neighbours, to be ac­quainted. She signified that was true [Page 87] and if ever there was a good Quaker in the world, his mother was one.

She kept walking between the shop and the closet, laying many heavy things to my charge, which I had learned with silence to bear, till she touched my mo­desty, and told the friend the freedom which, she said, I gave to young men; then I desired her to keep to the truth; and she said, If I spoke another word, she would knock my head to the wall, which, I well knew, a word or two more would have aggravated her to have done. Upon his asking how long I had been so bad, she said, ever since I had been de­luded; for I was well enough before I was bewitched.

Thus she went on, as long, I believe, as she had power; for, going out she said, I will go, but I will come again: but she came no more till next day, when she laid on me with blows, saying [Page 88] that I sent for the friend on purpose to vex her. She shewed so much of her passion, as to make the friend signify to me, that he could think no other than that she was out of her senses; and that he could not see, if I had not truth for my foundation, how it was possible for me to stand. I told him that I had no other view of coming amongst friends, than to procure the truth and peace of God unto my soul; and that I had still hopes I should be preserved. I remember, he observed to me, the emptiness of a bar­ren profession; and advised me to wait on God in the secret of my heart, to rely on his wisdom, and to trust in his power, signifying a desire that I might be preserved; and adding, he had come to see me sooner, but found himself en­gaged to take the apostle's advice, to "lay hands suddenly on no one;" and, after kindly inviting me to his house, took leave. This visit I returned in about a month.

[Page 89] When he was gone, I considered what had passed, and was thankful to the Great Disposer of all things. I thought there was somewhat extraordinary in my aunt's leaving us, for she had never left me with any person before, and was glad I had an opportunity of gaining such instruction, the like of which I never had before received in conversation; nor could I less admire the friend's pru­dent care, in observing the apostle's ad­vice, which I had before time thought alluded only to the laying on of the bishop's hands, at the time of the young student's admission into holy orders, and the confirmation of the youth; but now I knew, by experience, that, for want of prudence in particulars, I had been a sufferer; and, as an instance, shall men­tion one of the most uneasy meetings I ever was at, which was occasioned by a friend's overcare, who had often pressed me to come up higher in the m [...]ting than where I frequently sat. I signified [Page 90] to that friend, that the highest place in the meeting would be as little regarded by my aunt as the lowest, should she be inclined to make a disturbance there; yet, by frequent importunity, being will­ing to shew some respect to my friend's advice, I was prevailed with to advance a form or two; but when the friend came and saw I had not thoroughly taken her advice, she plucked me by the arm; and although I signified my desire of sitting still, as far as civility would bear, yet she compelled me to rise, and, notwith­standing I shewed a desire of turning in at the next, and the next seat I came to, yet she would not let me rest, till she had placed me by herself. Then, oh! the hurries that my mind was in; for surely, had my aunt herself been there, she could not have confused my thoughts half so much; for though, at this time, when at meetings, I had a desire to draw nigh to fri [...]ds in spirit, yet it went much against my inclination to sit so near the [Page 91] place which, my aunt used to tell me, must be my seat; saying, all proselytes must be made preachers, and tell to the brethren the abominations of the wicked. Often would she tease me with such things; well knowing, I had in my na­ture a great aversion to woman's preach­ing.

Here I sat, in a restless condition, se­veral times purposing to go out; yet the kindness I had for my friend prevailed on me to stay. Glad, however, was I when the meeting broke up; and when it was over, the friend gave me her hand; which I answered with my own, in token of my forgiving her too forward, though loving, fault; yet not without telling her, when at home, the trouble she had given me, and desiring her never to use me so hardly again.

Shall I here say, that good came out of evil; no sure, but sweet came out of [Page 92] bitter; for, by my friend's freedom of giving me her hand, several that were in the meeting did the same; and though this did not prove a time of confirmation to my faith, but rather otherwise; yet it seemed like a sign of union, no one hav­ing done so before, and was pleasant.

But I lost, for a time, the deep impres­sion, which the friend's apprehension of my aunt's being distracted, had made on my mind; but thought, afterwards, if, from the little he saw, he could not but entertain apprehensions of that kind, what had I to fear, who had seen her so many times, a great deal worse; yet, what could I do, or what was there to be done; I could not renounce my salva­tion in order to appease my aunt.

These reflections caused distress in my countenance, which occasioned my aunt to say, she read the very Quaker in my face.

[Page 93] It seemed hardly possible I could ever know any sorrow like that I then felt; and my aunt, either by informa­tion, or her own observation, became acquainted with it; and by many frantic gestures, wrought in me a belief, that she was really as I imagined. My soul now fled to the Almighty for refuge, and I sat before her a witness of her frenzi­cal behaviour, with more solidity and composure than she expected. At last, she came up to me, and said, I am mad; thou, thou hast driven me mad! and I am mad! I was surprised to hear her say so, and thought there was some hopes for me, as she had yet so much reason left as to tell me of the thing she knew I was so afraid of.

Upon my shewing so much indiffer­ence about it, she dropt that scheme, and in a little time after, as one fainting in her hopes of victory, declined inter­rupting me in the street; yet, being [Page 94] willing to obstruct my desire of going to meeting, she would come to my room before the hour appointed; telling me, we would have a silent meeting. I would gladly have had her kept to it, but it seemed an impossibility, on her part.

When I saw it was her intention, by this means, to keep me at home; in order to prevent it, I set out so much the sooner; and she, on the other hand, came earlier still, till she saw, without she rose sooner in the morning, my resolutions would outgo her.

Many were the paces which I was forced to take in the fields on this ac­count; but I may say my labour was not in vain, for my aunt then left me to my liberty, and many precious meetings I enjoyed.

As I had nothing of tradition, when [Page 95] there, to trust to, my earnest desire was to seek the Lord, and he was found of my soul, to my inexpressible consolation.

In respect to silent meetings, my spi­ritual exercises at home had taught me how to improve by them: my heart in­clined rather to sit in fear and reverence, and to watch against the tumult of un­necessary thoughts, than to be busy, as formerly, in the florid appearances of lip-worship. But, yet, I would not have it supposed, that I knew no diffi­culty in my exercises; for surely, I often felt the throng of natural cogita­tions to press so hard upon me, that I have [...]ound cause to implore the divine aid, often breathing forth this ejacula­tion; Lord, if thou keep not the city, the watchman waketh but in vain!

But though I was freed from my aunt's molestations, I found it was only as the changing of a scene, and that the [Page 96] subtilty of the serpent was now more dangerous to me than it had been in the form of the lion.

My freedom of attending meeting, which I had hitherto been much re­strained from, and the Lord's merci­fully subduing those spirits which were a hinderance to me, in the way of my soul's serenity, I could not but grate­fully acknowledge, with desires that I might answer the obligation. But I was yet inexperienced in the craft of the enemy and deceiver of men, and needed the assistance of some prudent confident, whose counsel might have set right bounds to my zeal.

This subtile one, taking advantage of my earnestness cunningly twined a thread of his own into that work which I was endeavouring to render acceptable to my God. I had, till this time, been taken up in seeking after an increase and esta­blishment [Page 97] in the knowledge of the truth, and in keeping up a strict circumspection in my behaviour, that thereby I might not give my relations and acquaintance just occasion of trouble, or a pretence for villifying the way of truth.

I had not as yet made any great ob­servations on dress, but thought to make a stand, and judge what was best to be done; and, doubtless so far I was in the right, whilst I made some alterations.

But now I found the prowling adver­sary, what he ever was, a malicious, de­ceitful, twining serpent, who, if he can but get in his head at the least place of our inadvertency, will soon draw in his body, under an appearance of sanctity, to effect, if possible, the utter destruc­tion of the soul. He saw that his aim of drawing me into any gross, obvious evil, was defeated; and as I had seen less of his stratagems in the angelical [Page 98] form, he now insinuated himself into my desires of being zealous for the honour of God, and elevated me above my proper height, so that I fell to judging, cutting, and trimming off every super­fluous scrap from my dress; and, not content with this, I went from my ap­parel to my shop.

In less than one week, I made several sacrifices of value; and so hurried was I in this blind zeal, that I seemed impa­tient for more fuel. And having gone through, as I thought, at home; I next let out the busy eye on others. There were but sew who could escape my judgment, forgetting that tender advice, vi. Luke, 37, "Judge not, and ye shall not be judged; condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned." I noticed each point of behaviour and apparel: till, so great a critic was I got, that I seemed all speculation on the more mi­nute things; and neglecting the weightier [Page 99] matters, as faith, mercy, and the love of God, which, surely, I ought to have re­garded, though not to have left the other wholly undone.

To what extravagancy I had gone in this line, the most penetrating eye best saw, and was pleased to look in compassion on the mistake of my intentions, and most graciously to illumine my understanding; giving me plainly to see, I was quite out of that charity, without which, the apos­tle says, all our works profit nothing.

So tenaciously did I adhere to this thing, that I saw not the deceiver, till I discovered such passions predominant in me, as I had never observed before. My temper became uncharitable, and unmer­ciful, looking with an evil eye on the in­nocent; and being incapable of either pleasing myself or being pleased with others; but, according to the greatness of my error herein, so was my abasement, [Page 100] when I was brought down so low, [...] to be capable of hearing the small voice of Wisdom, saying, Who hath required this at thy hand?

Now was I filled with shame; the ser­pent had beguiled me, and by his cun­ning he had given me more uneasiness than by all his roaring. I acknowledged my fault, I begged forgiveness and future protection of the Almighty, who in his great condescention, made up the breach and restored the path to walk in. Yet had I given the vaunting one room to sport with my indiscretion, and he would often bring the loss I had sustained, by his poisonous insinuations, into my thoughts, even when no more of the re­membrance of it remained than was ne­cessary to guard me against the same de­vices in future.

This exercise was scarcely abated, before another trial occurred.

[Page 101] My relations being still displeased that I should stay in town, thoug [...] [...] another stratagem against me, which greatly sur­prised me, and added to the trouble which the destuction of my substance, as above related, had given me.

My uncle having been at London, about our affairs; reported on his return, that on account of a large debt of my father's, who had been dead thirteen years, a suit in chancery was commenced against him. This report ran current; and my uncle gave out, that as I was under age, he would take again those effects he had put into my hands, though I had not received one quarter of my equivalent.

The unwelcome news was brought to me by many. I say unwelcome, because I had contracted some debts in the way of business, which, my uncle said, he could, and would, refuse to pay. And, [Page 102] again, as my aunt had broken up my [...], and my former acquaintance had withdrawn their custom, my trade seemed at a stand, and had been so above a year, except for some few trifles, as before mentioned; besides which, I now was sensible, that the things I had destroyed were not my own. But, having some acquaintance with Counsellor Holling­shead, I laid before him my straights, and he civilly told me, I might be quite easy on account of the debt; saying, if there had been any truth in it, he should have heard of it from my uncle, who used to take his advice; and, besides, he knew my father's creditors had met with due honour. In respect to my uncle's tak­ing back the effects he had entrusted me with, it was at his pleasure, and he might refuse to pay the debts contracted if the bills were made in my name, unless he had given his promise to pay them. The Counsellor desired me, if I had any fur­ther [Page 103] trouble, to let him know it, and he would speak to my uncle for me.

Thus was I fully satisfied concerning my father's debt; and, in a little time af­ter, was comfortably astonished with the breathings in of the love of God, in these few comprehensive words; Fear not, I have overcome the world. Had my trouble been even redoubled, like Job's, surely I should in this season of favour have forgotten them; yet, when it subsided, I found there remained two occasions for sorrowful reflection. The one was, paying of my creditors; which I soon got over, as I had cash enough to balance all but one, from whom I had received a parcel, which, through the smallness of business, was nearly entire; and this I sent back, with money to an­swer any deficiency or damage. It was kindly received, and I was very easy respecting it. But as to the other affair, by destroying the articles, I had put it [Page 104] out of my power to restore them; and this dwelt longer with me; yet, as I lived to come to age, I took the debt upon myself, and became reconciled to bear it; though not without a belief, that if I had had a friend to have given me ad­vice, it would have been otherwise.

Here I bemoaned myself, before the Almighty, that I had lost my parents, disobliged my relations, and now had no friend to take more notice of me than what is common amongst the generality of professors; and, indeed, how could I expect, that any one would busy them­selves to take the care of me, in any degree upon them, without my desire?

I became more and more sensible of the danger to which my years, as well as other circumstances, might expose me; and I preferred many strong desires to the Most High, that, in his wisdom he would appoint for me a faithful friend, [Page 105] who would check my errors, as well as encourage me in virtue; one that was capable of instructing me by their own experience. These desires were often accompanied with a promissory hope, and belief that I could subject myself to the counsel, and bear the reproof of such an one; but where to find such a friend I knew not; I was afraid to trust my own judgment, and often supplicated the Invisible Being to direct me in the choise.

Accordingly, in a space of time it thus happened: J. Toft was visited with sickness, and brought so low, that seve­ral friends, who met, did not know but it must be to take their final adieu. I had also the favour to be in the cham­ber, and heard many things worthy of regard; but that which struck me deepest was, an earnest desire for my preserva­tion in the truth, and kind recommend­ation of me, as a young person, to these [Page 106] friends then present, that they would have me under their notice. I was truly touched with this sense of paternal care, and secretly desired his life, and the restoration of his health; which, as it pleased the Almighty to grant it, I was myself no longer at a loss for a friend, conceiving that one, whose kindness towards me was manifested under such circumstances, I might reasonably hope to find such an one as I desired. And from that time I looked on him with a just regard, and with a resolution that, whenever I found occasion for advice, I would apply to him for it. Nor was it long before my exigency seemed to require it.

The beloved of my soul, who, in my tender state, had so graciously replenished my heart, now hid his face from me; and I was not indulged with those times of solace, which I before had so plente­ously enjoyed; I waited, and waited, the [Page 107] return of the dearest object of my soul, often querying, Why stayeth my beloved so long? or, What have I done since his last embraces, to occasion his thus hiding himself from me? Impatient, I sought him in my chamber, the meetings, and the fields; places where I had used to receive his favour; but these seemed now to have lost their lustre, as well as my beloved his benevolence towards me. I sought him, but I found him not: like the spouse, in the Canticles, I was ready to ask, Did you see my beloved? I was disconsolate days and nights, and, I may say, I mourned as one wanting her mate. Still I thought my tears mov­ed not his pity, and his ear seemed deaf to all my cries,; whilst the imperious watchman wounded me, and the cruel enemy upbraided me with all I had gone through for my beloved's sake, telling me, I had better have staid in Egypt, than thus to languish in the wilderness. Great indeed were the conflicts I here met with, [Page 108] not knowing why it should be thus; and [...]earing I was dying to all that was spiritual, I at length resolved to make application to my friend.

I went to his house; and remember, while I waited a suitable opportunity to speak to him, the tears trickled down my cheeks; yet, when I had unbosomed my complaint, I received great satisfac­tion; for, from his kind enquiry of my past conduct, I found my opinion of his friendship confirmed. From his tender advice my soul was encouraged to hope a little longer: and to my inexpressible joy, in some days after, I felt the influ­ence of Divine Love suggesting to my mind, Follow on to know the Lord; Jo­seph, the spiritual Joseph, is yet alive. Oh! sure here I found again that inesti­mable jewel, the pearl of my best affec­tion, and the life of my hope, with such revivings as Jacob experienced, when he saw the assurance of the welfare of his [Page 109] son. And my soul bowed under an humble sense of gratitude; saying, It is enough, I will go down and see him ere I die.

It was a time of true humility, tender­ness, and love. My covenant was re­newed, and it remained for some time as a summer season; or, "as the time when the voice of the turtle is heard." Yet, at in­tervals, I could not but reflect on former days, and conclude, the smallest degree of my uncle's and aunt's reconciliation, would add to my happiness. And, as these thoughts increased, so did my desire of making a trial; and, one evening, I went to their house, and knocked at the door, stranger-like, as indeed I was, not having been there for above two years.

Their maid let me in; and, I suppose I much surprised them. They were sit­ting alone by the fire. I just said. How do you do? and stood within the house, [Page 110] a little distant from the door. My uncle looked very sorrowful, and if he spoke at that time, he only said, I have no pleasure in seeing thee. My aunt said enough, and called me many impu­dencies for coming. I stood about half an hour, and then bidding them farewell, my aunt came with me part of the way back, scolding me as we went.

I thought this was but poor encourage­ment, yet was truly glad I had seen them.

In about six weeks, I had a desire to go again. I went in the former manner, knocked, and stood as before; and, after a little while, my uncle said, Thou may­est sit down. My aunt then fetched some books, which, I believe, were the same that Bennet would have lent me, and read several absurd passages; to which I only said, I hope you do not think any sect can be so ridiculous as to believe and practise those things. I staid a little [Page 111] longer than before, during which my uncle sat very solitary, and my aunt let me come home quietly.

Thus I went several times to see them, eyeing my permission; as believing, that to go without it, might expose me to danger; but, in my fourth or fifth visit, my uncle said to the maid; Set her some­thing to eat. I could truly have said his love was sufficient; for I was so satisfied, with this little return of his love, and my aunt's increased quietness, that my heart was ready to overflow. I thought proper to go to the table, and, before I ate, there was a contrite thansgiving arose in my soul to God.

After this, I took the liberty to go at sundry times to see them, and had frequent opportunities to remark, I still had a place in their affection; which an­swered my desire; nor could I hope for more, as there always was, and is, a con­trariety [Page 112] betwixt the spiritual and natural dispositions. They were so kind as to return my visits, till I was married, [to S. L. the husband's name] which was a little past the twenty-fourth year of my age, with the approbation of my friends.

My uncle would not come to the meeting, but came to our dinner; and my aunt visited us the next day. They both behaved loving and affectionate to my husband; and, afterwards, were very tender of our children, my aunt exceed­ingly so; and, indeed, it yields me satisfac­tion, as often as I remember the public testimonies she gave, before her death, of my behaviour towards her in the time of my convincement; though, I believe, she continued to think it was right in her to restrain me from going on in a way so different from her own judgment, and what she thought was right; yet ac­knowledged she was angry, and did ex­ceed; [Page 113] and that she never saw me behave unbecoming, or heard me give her an unhandsome word. She was, again, as civil to friends as before I went to meet­ings; and at times asked several friends of my acquaintance to her house, and enter­tained them freely.

I may now conclude my [...]rrative thus far, with truly saying, how blessed in my situation was I; having a loving, kind and tender husband; our lawful endeavours made prosperous; the affec­tions of my relations restored; and, above all, the blessing of the Almighty sancti­fying these enjoyments to my soul, to the praise and adoration of his love. Here was I permitted to dwell as under the pavilion of the goodness of God, yet not without something to combat with in my secret exercises.

I thus persevered on comfortably for two years after my marriage, when the [Page 114] best Physician, whose penetrating eye saw the malady of my soul, prepared a bitter cup for the purging out a venom that lurked there, which I had sucked in from the malicious adversary of truth; before, and even after, my going to meeting, and which remained to this time. Hence issued a fiery trial, by which my professions of love and affection were to be proved.

This may well be as a second part of my history, and is the most trying, as it went very near to my spiritual, as well as temporal, life. This war was not with flesh and blood, but with the Majesty on high; under the prince of the power of the air, who rules in the children of dis­obedience.

I have before observed, that to be an Israelite indeed, had attracted my desires; but little did I suspect what I had to un­dergo, before my heart was cleansed from [Page 115] guile, and delivered from that wrath which the enemy had been heaping up in me against the day of wrath.

To introduce this heavy relation, I must go back to my childhood, and say, that the first time I ever heard a woman preach, from a prejudice imbibed from my companions, and, probably, an aver­sion in my own nature, I thought it very ridiculous; and the oftener I had opportu­nities to see it, the more I secretly de­spised it. At the time that I joined with friends, this was one of my strongest ob­jections to them; but I endeavoured to silence it, by concluding, that others might do as they pleased, and so would I.

My aunt, as I have hinted, gave me many remembrances thereof, as she knew my dislike to it, from my former confession; and, I have no doubt, the serpent, by means of this prejudice, in­jected his venom the deeper; for since [Page 116] I have found out his workings, I have remembered a secret fear, which I had at times on this account, and which this cunning enemy had allayed, by reminding me of my many protesta­tions against it. The apprehension, how­ever, continued, that I should certainly come to be a preacher; which greatly distressed me: the allowance of women's preaching being the only dislike I had to the discipline and order of the church; yet still I satisfied myself with many in­considerate resolves against it.

But here I may remark a good oppor­tunity allotted me for the shaking off those shackles which the fiend was fast­ening on me; but which I lost, and have remembered it many times with sorrow.

Being in discourse with a friend, he frankly asked me, if I had any scruples? or whether I was satisfied with the prin­ciples of friends? I stopt short in my [Page 117] mind apprehending, if I should men­tion women's preaching, he would think I spoke with regard to myself. Thus was I baffled; and I answered, that I was satisfied in the principle itself. At that time my idea of preaching was, that it was an act of love and friendship, se­parate from obedience; and glad could I have been, like Moses, if all the Lord's people had been so inclined; women excepted.

I continued thus for some years, till I became such a slave to my fears, that I could not say, "Thy will, O Lord, be done." But like Naaman, the captain of Syria, would fain be excused from this thing. I now began to believe that such exposures were something more than voluntary offerings, and was convinced, from many proofs, that my state had been as clearly spoken to by my own sex, as by the other; yet, such was my perverse­ness, that, one day, [...] had much ado to [Page 118] stay the meeting, though I could not help acknowledging within myself, that it would have been an acceptable testi­mony, had it came from a man. So great was my prejudice; but greater, yes, may I say, infinitely greater, were the condescentions of God; for I was still favoured in my waitings with a sense of his living presence. The mysteries of true divinity were opened to my un­derstanding, and through the influences of divine love has my cup overflowed with such acknowledgments as these; "Oh, my beloved! if thou dealest so bountifully with me, my breast will be too narrow to contain thy love; oh! with­hold thy hand, or I shall certainly speak of thy goodness to others." And, I really believe, had I embraced that opportunity, and joined with the Lord in his workings on my mind, I should have been delivered from my fears, and escaped those cross occurrences I have since waded through: but here my poor soul shrunk from [Page 119] the cross of Christ, whose yoke, to the passive mind, becomes easy, and his burden light. Yet such was my weakness, that, through short­sightedness, and the false suggestions of the enemy, I started aside; and may truly say, the longer I carried my bur­den, the heavier it proved; and I now have, with regret, to look back and con­fess, that instead of closing with the vi­sitations of love; I joined with my in­veterate enemy, and resolved not to wait for, or encourage any farther discove­ries. Thus did I harden myself, wretched creature that I was; and when I have felt the power of the Almighty moving with love upon my mind, I have no less than said; I will have no more under­standing; and sundry times shut mine eyes upon the book that has been, as it were, put into my hand, when the best of interpreters has been near, and so withstood that tender love which fol­lowed me; and I have risen from my [Page 120] chair, to fix my thoughts on other ob­jects.

My soul is really affected with the goodness of God, in the continuation of his mercies towards me; and under a sense of the horrible state I was then in, whilst the worst of enemies had full rule; and He, who shed for me his most pre­cious blood, was rejected, at the hazard of the salvation of my soul; sitting down far short of a true Israelite.

Thus went I on, stifling conviction; till I was lulled into a spiritual lethargy, where I lay, till the compassionate God, who wills not the death of a sinner, was pleased to arouse me to a consideration of what I had been doing; and I found enough to do, to keep from sinking under the bitter reflections I had brought upon myself, by my rebellious proceedings; and yet, through the unutterable goodness of God, I was again revived by his favours.

[Page 121] Having got a little recovery from this state of deep affliction, I was visited with weakness of body; so that both myself and others thought I was nigh unto death; but it pleased the Lord, in an un­expected hour, to give me this assurance, "Thou shalt not die, but live to declare what I have done for thee." This was still so contrary to my desires, that I could not rejoice at all at the lengthen­ing of my days; for now I did believe I should certainly be tried. Oh! the days and nights of conflict that followed this intimation. My countenance changed, my health seemed daily impaired; the solitary places were made witnesses of my grief; and, as the years increased, so did my exercise, till I had another visita­tion of sickness, and was, to all appear­ance, past recovery. Most willingly would I have yielded unto death; chus­ing rather to die, than live to be any more disobedient; and it pleased the Lord to prove me again and again in the secret of [Page 122] my soul, whether I would live to be obedient to his requirings, or die; and my choice was, rather to die, than live to be a preacher. Yet it pleased him in his wisdom to raise me again, contrary to the expectation of those that beheld me; none of whom, at this time knew any thing of the exercise of my mind, which increased to such a degree as can­not well be expressed. My body would tremble as a thing shaken: and my groans were like those of a dying man. But now I had learned, by dear experience, to cleave unto the Lord; and when I have felt the power; what, if I say, of his might; I sought out places most proper to receive it, and bowed in prostration. From the weight whereof I have passionately or affectionately burst forth in this lan­guage, "Lord, what wouldst thou have me to do?" And as I believed it was a preparation for a further exercise, I of­ten begged he would be pleased to make me able to bear whatever he should think [Page 123] meet in his wisdom to lay upon me; and, indeed, sweet was his love and merciful his dealings, many times renewing his covenant with my soul. Yet here I was not to continue, but led again to the test of my fidelity.

Being in meeting, in a comfortable frame of spirit, I found a motion in my soul, moving me to worship God in vocal prayer; and, although I had known the same power in my own chamber, and with pleasure submitted to it there, yet here not yielding to the impulse, my heart, and all that was within me, became confused; the whole fabric was shaken; and this was taken notice of by a friend that sat behind me, who, as soon as meeting was over, asked me how I did; saying, she was sure I had been ill. I answered, I was but indifferent; as well I might. This seemed a good cau­tion to me, as I desired to keep my ex­ercise to myself.

[Page 124] Not many more meetings passed before I was tried again; when I fixed my body as firm as I could, but found it impossi­ble to still my mind. I knew too well how it was with me; though the whisperer would persuade me it was all imagination.

In this way did I trifle so long, that the displeasure of the Almighty seemed hot against me, and life and death were set before me. I was all in confusion, both at home and abroad, wishing myself any other creature; and here I moiled and turmoiled, till I could bear it no longer; and, at length, concluded it best to break it to a friend; when he signified it had been for some time in the secret of his thoughts, that something of that sort lay upon me; and, though I here proved, that it was not in man, by the force of argument and tender advice, to subject my stubborn will; yet I received some advantage from it, and acknow­ledged the truth of that advice, which [Page 125] I did not closely follow, but became in myself as a piece of contradiction. Some­times I would follow the Lord, and then resolve otherwise. I went to meet­ings as a slave to his labour. At home, I durst not sit down in solitude, being sure to meet with judgment, and into company I could not go, without wound­ing myself, by pretending to be what I was not; lest I should be suspected grave; concluding, every one that looked on me earnestly, knew how it was with me.

Thus was I harrassed, as betwixt the up­per and the nether millstone, often wish­ing for death, and that I never had been born: so great was my straight, I could not go back again, because I was not able to shake off the principle of truth; and had thoughts of flinging myself into the jaws of death. Yet, for ever praised be the name of the Lord, his mercy withheld the de­vourer, and preserved me; giving me to see into his false insinuations, and to believe [Page 126] that the life, which was in his power to take at his pleasure, would not be a sufficient atonement for those rebellions I had been guilty of; and I was brought to an ab­horrence of those thoughts which I had been made to conceive. And herein did the goodness of the Lord appear so evident, that I resolved to keep close to meetings. But, alas! when there, in­stead of keeping close to my exercise, I, through fear kept myself from it, and sat, as it appeared to me, empty, void, and waste: empty of those desires I used to possess; void of all that was good▪ and waste, as being laid aside by the Al­mighty; and all through a slavish fear that I could not draw nigh to God. I sat as though I had nothing to do, but to see with a wishful eye others partake of that food, which my soul stood in need of; yet my state was different from those who are at ease in Zion; for when I have looked at those who, I thought, were in a right frame of mind, they [Page 127] seemed to be feeding at the Lord's table, whilst my hungry soul stood in a state of estrangement from him, without courage enough too seek the scattered crumbs.

Thus it was with me many days; till in one meeting, growing faint, a state of drowsiness overtook me, a thing which I was not naturally given to; yet so far did it prevail, that I was forced to pinch myself, to keep awake. Now I thought myself worse than ever I was in my life; for, in my childhood, I had the form, which I left to posses the power; yet here I found not so easy an access as I had expected; and though I sought, and sought; instead of meeting with my true friend, I met with my enemy, dressed in the doctrine of election and reproba­tion. This I had been led into some years before, and now had much ado, through the sense of my own unworthi­ness, to shake it off; labouring hard against the temptation of destroying my­self [Page 128] and foolishly wishing some accident would do that office. But here the riches of God's grace again appeared. I was brought to see and acknowledge, that, if my soul perished eternally, the Lord was but just in his dealings with me; and these considerations had some effect: I desired to be brought back to my former state, that I might have access to his power, be a witness of his love, and tried once more. My pen surely would fail, ere I could fully set forth the condescen­sions and long-sufferings of the goodness of my Creator towards me. I here knew my pardon sealed; but my peace lasted not long; for I was quickly tried again and again; and still I did not give up. I was sensible that I flinched from that power which was ready as a hand to help me; and therefore worse and worse, said I to my soul. It will never be better with thee, suggested the enemy. I knew not which way to turn; I was weary of my own obstinacy. I would now see what I [Page 129] could gain by self-mortification; and as I could not work, I would eat but little. I studied several ways to afflict myself; and have thought, glad should I be, if I had no tongue. Here again I had cause to know the old prompter to be near to augment my distress; which, with my own disobedience, made the whole crea­tion appear to be against me. Oh! I was in such perplexity, that I said, Now shall I fall by the hand of my enemy. I fretted, and chafed at myself, and every thing about me, and could not come at submission.

At one time, as I was seriously reflect­ing on my situation, these thoughts passed my mind, and surprised me; "if thou be a God of power, make me willing." This was no sooner past, but they were followed as quick, in comparison, as lightning, by, "Soul, detest thou this presumption; for though he is a God of power, it is in his time he will redeem." I was astonished, [Page 130] and said, "Lord, what is it?" and it came thus before me, "there is war in heaven, Michael and the Dragon." When the flutter was over, I remembered the pas­sage where it is said; "in the day of my power, my people shall be a willing people;" and I was consolated by it. There also fell out another singular oc­currence about this time, which I can­not well omit. I was fully persuaded in myself, that if I went on in this obstinacy, my house would be laid waste; and, with­in a month afterwards, we had in the view of many spectators, a wonderful deliver­ance from fire: during which, whilst others were busy, in considering how it should happen, I was as busy in reflecting on myself as the cause; and it weighed me down in humble acknowledgments unto God, for his merciful preservation. The world, in a comparative way of speaking, seemed now to be near an end with me; and, as if a total eclipse was drawing on; every scene and object looked gloomy; and [Page 131] which ever way I turned my eye, an angry God appeared. There was no shelter for me; nothing now to defend myself with, or way of escaping; and na­ture must yield. In a little time the trial came again; and, in that moment, the enemy of my soul suggested, that if I got up, I should not be able to stand; but, thanks to the Almighty, I was strength­ened to try, and found him a liar. The expression of a few words produced a blessed change. There seemed now a new heaven and a new earth; old things passed away, and all things belonging to my state, became new; no more guilt for past disobedience remained; but new em­braces and new covenants filled up that joyful day. Yet I looked forward with anxiety to another meeting day; and thought I formerly thought meetings did not come fast enough, yet now they seemed to come too soon. In two or three of them, I sat under a degree of slavish fear; yet truly desired to keep my [Page 132] integrity and obedience. At length, a second trial came; I was moved to kneel down, and, while I viewed the place, my soul secretly breathed thus before the Lord, "Here is the place of my execu­tion;" and seeing the boss, "This is the block whereon I must yield up the pride of nature, for a testimony of my obedi­ence; remember me, oh Lord! and the conflicts that I undergo to serve thee. Accept, O Lord, the sacrifice." I then kneeled down; and when I arose, this came into my mind; "the life that I must now live, must be by faith in Jesus Christ."

Thus persevered I in obedience, which wrought unspeakable satisfaction, and brought my soul, by degrees, out of the place of thraldom and bondage; and thus, by the goodness of God, were the strong holds of sin and satan brought down, and the joy of my salvation re­stored. Meeting-times and days were pleasant again, whilst my soul worshipped [Page 133] the living God, as in the house of prayer; and whilst I stand as on the bank of deli­verance, resounding hosanna in the high­est; having the harp of thanksgiving put into my hands, my song shall be of mer­cies and of judgments, through which my soul has been so far redeemed; and of the victory of the Lamb; by whose right hand and everlasting arm, my soul's enemies have been driven back, scattered, and put to flight.

Now, what have I to render to my God for this most glorious work, the salvation of my soul, but the humble ac­knowledgments of the most unworthy and vilest of sinners: who, by his most gracious condescendings, is enabled and encouraged to ascribe honour, adoration, dominion and renown, with praises and thanksgiving, as due to his eternal love, for ever more.