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he took my hat from me, made no inquiry after me till evening came; and then sitting by the fire, and considering that the weather was very cold, he said to my sister who sat by him, go up to your brother's chamber and call him down; it may be he will sit there else, in a sullen fit, till he has caught cold. Alas! sir, said she, he is not in his chamber, nor in the house neither. At that my father startling, said, why where is he then? I know not, sir, said she, where he is but I know that when he saw you had sent away his horse, he put on shoes and went out on foot; and I have not seen him since. And indeed, sir, added she, I do not wonder at his going away, considering how you used him. This put my father into a great fright, doubting I was gone quite away; and so great a passion of grief seized on him, that he forbore not to weep, and to cry out aloud, so that the family heard him: Oh! my son! I shall never see him more! for he is of so bold and resolute a spirit, that he will run himself into danger, and so may be thrown into some gaol or other, where he may lie and die, before I can hear of him. Then bidding her light him up to his chamber, he went immediately to bed; where he lay restless and groaning, and often bemoaning himself and me, for the greatest part of the night.

1659. Next morning my sister sent a man, whom for his love to me, she knew she could trust, to give me this account: and though by

him she sent me also fresh linen for my use, in case I should go further, or stay out longer, yet she desired me to come home as soon as I could.

This account was very uneasy to me. I was much grieved that I had occasioned so much grief to my father. and I would have returned that evening after the meeting, but the friends would not permit it; for the meeting would in likelihood end late, the days being short, and the way was long and dirty. And besides, John Raunce told me, that he had something on his mind to speak to my father; and that, if I would stay till the next day he would go down with me; hoping perhaps, that while my father was under this sorrow for me, he might work some good upon him. Hereupon, concluding to stay till the morrow, I dismissed the man with the things he brought; bidding him tell my sister, I in-tended, God willing, to return home to-morrow; and charging him not to let any body else know that he had seen me, or where he had been.

Next morning John Raunce and I set out; and when we were come to the end of the town, we agreed, that he should go before, and knock at the great gate, and I would come a little after, and go in by the back way. He did so; and when a servant came to open the gate, he asking if the justice were at home, she told him yes, and desiring him to come in, and sit down in the hall went and ac

quainted her master that there was one who desired to speak with him. He, supposing it was one that came for justice, went readily into the hall to him. But he was not a little surprised, when he found it was a Quaker. Yet not knowing on what account he came, he staid to hear his business. But when he found it was about me, he fell somewhat sharply on him.

In this time I was come, by the back way, into the kitchen; and hearing my father's voice so loud, I began to doubt things wrought not well, but I was soon assured of that. For my father having quickly enough of a Quaker's company, left John Raunce in the hall, and came into the kitchen; where he was more surprised to find me.

The sight of my hat upon my head made him presently forget, that I was that son of his, whom he had so lately lamented as lost; and his passion of grief turning into anger, he could not contain himself, but running upon me with both his hands, first violently snatched off my hat, and threw it away, then giving me some buffets on my head, he said, sirrah, get you up to your chamber.

I forthwith went, he following me at the heels, and now and then giving me a wherret on the ear. The way to my chamber lying through the hall where John Raunce was, he poor man, might see and be sorry for, as I doubt not but he was, but could not help

me.

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This was sure an unaccountable thing, that my father should but a day before express so high a sorrow for me, as fearing he should never see me any more, and yet now, so soon as he did see me, should fly upon me with such violence, and that only because I did not put off my hat; which he knew I did not keep on in disrespect to him, but upon a religious principle. But as this hat honour, as it was accounted, was grown to be a great idol, in those times more especially, so the Lord was pleased to engage his servants in a steady testimony against it; what suffering soever was brought upon them for it. And though some, who have been called in the Lord's vineyard at later hours, and since the heat of that day hath been much over, may be apt to account this testimony a small thing to suffer so much upon, as some have done, not only to beating, but to fines, and long and hard imprisonments; yet they who in those times were faithfully exercised in and under it, durst not despise the day of small things, as knowing that he who should do so, would not be thought worthy to be concerned in higher testimonies.

I had now lost one of my hats, and I had but one more. That therefore I put on; but did not keep it long, for the next time my father saw it on my head, he tore it violently from me; and laid it up with the other, I knew not where. Wherefore, I put on my mountier-cap, which was all I had left to wear

ou my head; and it was but a very little while that I had that to wear; for as soon as my father came where I was, I lost that also. And now I was forced to go bear-headed, whereever I had occasion to go, within doors and without.

This was in the eleventh month, called January, and the weather sharp, so that I, who had been bred up more tenderly, took so great a cold in my head, that my face and head were much swelled; and my gums had on them biles so sore, that I could neither chew meat, nor without difficulty swallow liquids. It held long, and I underwent much pain without much pity, except from my poor sister, who did what she could to give me ease; and at length by frequent applications of figs and stoned raisins, toasted and laid to the biles as hot as I could bear them, they ripened fit for lancing, and soon after sunk; then I had

ease.

Now was I laid up as a kind of prisoner for the rest of this winter, having no means to go forth among friends, nor they liberty to come to me. Wherefore I spent the time much in my chamber, in waiting on the Lord, and in reading; mostly in the Bible.

But whenever I had occasion to speak to my father, though I had no hat now to offend him, yet my language did as much; for I durst not say to him, you, but THOU or THEE, as the occasion required, and then would he be sure to fall on me with his fists.

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