QUAKE RI SM;
THE STORY OF MY LIFE.
BY A LADY,
WHO FOR FORTY YEARS WAS A MEMBER OF THE SOCIETY
OF FRIENDS.
PHILADELPHIA.
J. W. MOORE, 193 CHESTNUT STREET.
1852.
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PRINTED BY I. ASHMEAD.
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CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PA GE.
Reasons for writing-Ancestry-Emigration to Ireland-My
home-Orangewoman's ideas of dress-First school-Knee
Worship-Mental occupation in Meetings........   13
CHAPTER II.
Visit to Cork-Immigration of souls from Purgatory-Bible
reading-Old Dolly-Chapel of the Presentation Convent  Church-Quaker servant-Novels-Pious roguery-Teachers.  24
CHAPTER  III.
Monthly Meeting-Contrast in character-Story of a robber  Executions-Archbishop of Tuam-Girl's school-Value of
tears-Pious  pockets-Preachings-Robbery-Visit  to  an
elder-Novels-Return home..........              36
CHAPTER IV.
Home-Dress-Piety in pattens-Inanity of Quakerism-Quar  terly Meetings-Friend Brown's effrontery-Masquerades  Christ called a principle and not a person-Borrowing money
-The sisters-Ben and his breeches pockets-Ignorance of
use-Husband and Wife-Intemperance-The Resurrection.  60
i I 
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER V.
PAGE.
Curious preachings-Printed  Creed-Sermon  against  shells,
corals, and natural curiosities-Unwillingness of Friends to
speak  in  Meetings-Guides-Travelling  Friends-Women
Preachers' Families-Broad Brims to escape disownment Poor Committee-Provincial schools-False accusation... 77
CHAPTER VI.
Friend Flannil, the American Minister-Funeral Sermon at
the Grave-Sudden Death-Gresham's Hotel-Escape from
a Knave-Family Visit-Dress-Visits from the Overseers
about Drawing-French-Similarity of Popery and Quakerism.  93
CHAPTER VII.
Applications for membership-William Abbenger's visit and ser  mon to persons under twenty-one years of age-Friend Sailors
-Shipwrecked Girls-Escape from Quakerism-Dublin Year  ly Meeting-Receipt for making a red round of beef.... 118
CHAPTER VIII.
Public Meeting at Enniscorthy-Scene at the Inn there-The
great Friends visit our city-Establish a Ladies' Society  Government interferes to prevent visiting the Gaols-Quaker
scruples-Difficulty of being consistent........            145
CHAPTER IX.
London Yearly Meeting-Various concerns brought before the
Women's Meeting-Bible read in public, and the reader sent
to the Mad-house-Great Dinner at Mildred Court-Awful
Sermon-King George IV.-Frustrated attempt to penetrate
the mysteries of the Women's Meeting...........        166
iv 
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER X.
PA,I.
Hat Worship-Marriage Ceremony-English Customs-Igno  rance of Friends-Method of paying tithes-Tribute of respect
to the Established Church-Advice about dealing exclusively
with Friends-Evidences-Venerable-looking men chosen to
sit in the galleries-Committing the Scriptures to memory, for
the sake of repeating in Meeting, forbidden.......  189
CHAPTER XI.
Speculation-Anecdote illustrative of the value of richles  Theatre better than Church-Quaker idea of what dissipation
really is-Manoeuvring  for a husband-Elopements-Feel  ings-Education unnecessary for a Preacher-Persecution  Friend Gregory's method of taking revenge-Disownment and
its consequences....................... 213
CHAPTER X[L
Country Meetings in England and Wales-The Ethiopian and
the Leopard-Bonnet and Hat essential to Friends' worship  A  doubtful Minister-Sleepy old Friend-Dry  Meetings  Exhortation to assist in the ministry, and honour promised to
reward compliance-Story of poor Mary-St. Paul's want of
politeness-Sitting on Dress-Funeral Customs-Schism  Overseers' method of getting Information-Wedding at an Inn. 235
CHAPTER XIII.
Retrospect-Radicalism-Devonshire Overseers' Advice-Inde pendents-Wesleyans-Plymouthi Brethren-Cathedral-Cu rious custom-Return to Ireland-Adventure with Smug glers-Jacob Rules-A  First Day Morning Meeting-Bal       I*
v 
CONTENTS.
PAGE.
lyhaganites-Reasons for joining the Society-A ConvertMusic mistaken for Hebrew-Ignorance and its results... 257
CHAPTER XIV.
Dealing-visits to prevail on me to send in my resignation  Yearly Meeting Sermons-The Garret-English Overseers visit
in Disguise-Ministers'  Sitting-Disowned-Chancery suit,
a punishment for slighting Women's  preaching......   280
CHAPTER XV.
Stories of the Sand-man, the Meal-man, and the Elder-Ado.
ration of the Quaker Dress-Cleverly Scroggins-Slipping
into Heaven-Disbelief of eternal punishment-Appeal-Petty
persecution-Tithe Stories-Chancery Suit-Munificent Do  nations-Vindictive Punishments.......... —------ -- 305
CHAPTER XVI.
White Quakers-Favourite Texts-Sidcot School-Providential
Thunder  Storm-Indifference to Sin-Youth's Meetings  Sunday Schools-Baptism and the Lord's Supper-Conclusion. 329
vi 
PREFACE.
IT is with a humiliating feeling of my own incompetence for the task I have undertaken, that I presume to offer these pages to the public eye. Circumstances over which I have had no control, have
occurred to liberate me from the painful feelings
which might deter others from speaking of the system in which they are incorporated. No desire to
place myself ostentatiously before the public has influenced me; indeed I would have shrunk from revealing my personal experience, but that anxious to do
good to the Society to which I once belonged, I could
not hope to succeed in that effort without a simple detail; and therefore, I resolved to narrate what has
come under my own observation, and that which I
know to be authentic. Every scene I have delineated
is drawn from nature; every circumstance I have related is substantially true. I have carefully abstained
from exaggeration, and repeatedly thrown the veil of
obscurity over the record of scenes which too strongly developed the subject I was treating. 
PREFACE.
So very little is known of the mystery of Quakerism, and so established is the character of the Society
for respectability and morality, that I am quite prepared to find myself accused of ungenerous and malicious motives for writing; but persuaded that truth
is after all the most powerful weapon which can be
employed to accomplish any purpose, I have endeavoured to place it conspicuously forward, and on
it alone I rely.
I have found it impossible to compose my sentences,
so as to make my meaning intelligible to Quaker
minds, without using the phraseology of the Society;
and this I hope will be accepted as an apology for
what might otherwise be considered as quaint and
inelegant.
As a fire which has not been stirred, will burn
away, and become so choked up with ashes as to be
incapable of yielding warmth or light, and requires
not merely a gentle application of the poker, but a
strong and vigorous stirring up, to dislodge the burnt
out, and rekindle the good coals, so I conceive the
Society of Friends now needs a thorough good rousing; for the ashes have accumulated, and well nigh
put out the fire.  " The Beacon," a few years ago,
gave a very decided stir, and there was a little corner
viii 
PREFACE.                    1x
brightened up by it.  "Holy Scripture, the test of
truth," stirred it again; but all too gently; and now
my rough hand attempts to scatter the ashes, and
rekindle the spark of life-giving heat.
My chief motive for writing is, because I see the
precious souls of so many Friends perishing for lack
of knowledge; the blind leaders have led and are
leading the people astray; and I would hope, that by
reading the nonsense, which when heard is generally
allowed to pass away from the memory without leaving any impression, and by permitting common sense
to assume its due empire, some at least may be
ashamed any longer to submit to so degenerate, and
may I not add, so demoralizing a creed.
The Society of Friends profess to be a religious
and a Christian corporation; can they then object to
come to the light that their deeds may be made manifest?  And if they do object, is it not conclusive
that they are conscious their deeds will not bear to be
investigated, either by common sense or Scripture?
ilitherto, Quakerism has enjoyed an immunity which
no other public body in the land has claimed or
sought for. The public press has not been allowed
to bear upon it. Amongst themselves, the censorship
of the press is actually tyrannical. The Quaker purse
ix 
PREFACE.
has so often been lavishly poured out to punish, by
the heavy costs of a lawsuit, every person or newspaper that dared to publish anything derogatory of
their wealthy and commercial fraternity, that now no
one thinks it worth the risk of offending such implacable adversaries.
To consider the Society of Friends as a religious
body, is a monstrous stretch of imagination. Respectable, active, intelligent, benevolent, useful, wealthy
and influential, they undoubtedly are; but a man may
be all this, and yet devoid of that religion, without
which, he can never hope for life eternal.
The ridiculous nonsense of many of the scenes I
have related will, doubtless, annoy the Friends; and
those who have not attended the Meetings, or previously known the curious discipline of the Society, may
perhaps imagine, that the men's Meetings are more
sensible than the women's; they will be greatly mistaken who do so; the women are infinitely the most
religious portion of the community. There are twenty
women preachers or more, to one man. But when the
Bible is superseded, the commandments neglected,
and man's imaginings allowed to assume the place of
the law of the Lord, what can the Christian expect to
x 
PREFACE.
meet but error and folly, delusion, and alas! a soul destroying system of self-deception.
Should Friends venture to intimate that as an
anonymous writer I have presumed to step beyond the
line of truth, or even to colour my pictures too highly, I am ready to meet them in a second edition, which
cannot be called for too soon, and in it to give not
only my own name, but also the true name of every
single actor in my drama, the place and time of each
circumstance, and the original documents from which
my story is condensed.
In performing a task-which may be considered
an invidious one, and will no doubt be reprobated by
Friends, as it is designed to strip the Society of the
flimsy covering which has so long shrouded its workkings-I am cheered with the hope, that the souls
now perilled by the false and specious system may be
roused, ere too late, and that a determination may
spring up to refuse the silly babblings of those incapable preachers who now infest the Society, and to
insist on the Bible being read, and its truths preached.
The Apostle Paul commands, that if even an angel
from heaven should attempt to preach any other
doctrine than that revealed in Holy Writ, he should
not be received, as all other is counterfeit-is base
xi 
PREFACE.
coin, which will not pass current in that day when
the secrets of all hearts shall be revealed, and judged
according to the glorious Gospel of our Lord and
Saviour Jesus Christ. Eternity is not a fable, neither
is the judgment  day an hypothesis; therefore  it
behooves Friends, as well as all other men, to make
their calling and election sure. Many and many a
Quaker has sunk into the sleep of endless death,
lulled into a false security by these blind guides.
Ilow can an unconverted, an unregenerate, an unenlightened mortal point a fellow-sinner to the Christian's rock of safety? They know it not themselves;
and the slang language they adopt to disguise their
ignorance, is ruining their own souls, as well as those
who depend upon them.   "Faith cometh by hearing,
and hearing by the Word of God."   Let then the
Word, the written Word, the Holy Scriptures, be
taken for a guide, as they are indeed the only safe
guide to steer a mortal man through the perils of
time, the temptations of the devil, and the snares of
the world, in safety to the grave, and to the judgment
which must follow it.
Dublin, April, 1851.
xii
.1 
QUAKERISM.
CHAPTER I.
Reasons for writing-Ancestry-Emigration to Ireland-My home Orangewoman's ideas of dress-First school-Knee Worship Mental occupation in Meetings.
I HAVE often asked myself, Can it be, that the story
of the life of an obscure Quakeress would interest the
public?
It is said, that every page of social life has already
been unfolded, that every phrase of domestic manners
has been portrayed; but, as I have never met any
thing in print, that was at all like the life I so long
led, I am tempted to hope, that these pages may
have the charm of novelty, if nothing better, to recommend them.
It is true that Friends' libraries, contain many
volumes of memoirs.   The lives of many Friends
have been written; but as these books must, before
they are published, be subjected to the severe censorship of the "Morning Meeting," by which they are
unsparingly curtailed of all matter, which it is thought
desirable to conceal from public view, they are but
2 
A.N-CESTRY —EMIGRATION.
partial records. Besides, it is only the lives of persons who have been prominent in the Society, and
who have reflected credit on it, by their public preaching, or eminent situation, that it has been thought
worth while to commemorate.
I hope I am not mistaken in imagining that the
true and simple record of what passed before my
eyes, may prove both instructive and interesting.
In the reign of Charles II., when religious persecution assailed the Quakers on every side, several
families of them banded together, resigned both titles
and estates, and emigrated to Ireland. Amongst these
men was one, who, though he had lost an Earldom,
had retained much wealth.  He was my father's ancestor; and a portion of the lands he purchased, are
in my brother's possession to this day. My mother's
family came from England also, but at a much later
period. They came to Ireland likewise, to obtain
freedom to worship God according to the mode their
own conscience or feelings demanded. We were often
taunted, and called a proud family; and if it is good
to confess one's faults, I may as well own that we
quite deserved the name, for we were, aye, and are,
proud of our descent from the noble and the good;
and the moral excellence of one ancestor, and the intellectual superiority of the other, have been as magnets to attract us on the road to virtue. And perhaps
the sacrifices they made, to obtain mental freedom,
have influenced their descendants, in these degenerate
days, to assert that right to liberty of thought and
14
I 
AlMY 1O1)I E.
action, which the Society of Friends now, forbids its
members to exercise.
My father was a wealthy merchant, and an extensive landed proprietor.  Our dwelling, a short distance from the town, stood in a lawn of about ten
acres. The garden was large, and as well as the
conservatories and shrubberies, was always kept in the
most complete and elegant order. My mother had her
chariot; we, girls, had a handsome open barouche, for
my father's own use was a stanhope; and there was
the jaunting car for every body. There were seldom
less than six horses in the stable, and often more; for
my brothers were fond of riding, and were first-rate
horsemen.
My father bore a more than unblemished character. There was not a man in the city who stood
higher in general estimation. Our Bishop, Dean, and
the noble and learned representatives of both county
and city, greeted him with a cordial shake of the
hand when they met. I-e was a learned man; had
graduated at Trinity College; and could speak and
write both the French, Spanish, Portuguese and
Dutch languages; ill addition to an accurate acquaintance with Greek and Latin.  Besides all this, lie was
conscientiously, and scrupulously, a plain  Quaker.
Having passed through  all the minor gradations in
the Societv, such as clerk and overseer, he was at last
appointed an Elder; after having for five years, at
each succeeding Quarterly Meeting, when the office
was,3 pressedl upon him, declined it.  And when at
1.15 
16       ORANGEWOMAN'S IDEAS OF DRESS.
length he yielded to the desire of the Meeting, and
suffered his name to be enrolled amongst the Elders
of the Society, it was in very great humility of mind,
and fearfulness of heart, lest he should prove unworthy of so high a nomination.
My father's lofty descent, his wealth, liberality,
education, his character as a citizen, and his ardent
attachment to the principles of the Society, caused
his family to rank high, and gave them pre-eminence
in all the Meetings. The best and foremost seats
were offered them in Meetings; and out of it, their
society was courted.
My childhood was a very happy one. Six brothers
and sisters of us, sporting about our beautiful lawns;
and surrounded with every conceivable comfort and
luxury, with which my mother's care, and exquisite
taste, had embellished our home; we were all happy;
I well remember how often I thought myself supreme
ly so.
The first time that I became aware of our Quakerism, was when I was very young.   My sster Ellenl
and I, were standing at the hall-door, watching some
baskets of oranges, which two old fruit women had
brought for sale. One of them was an old acquaintance, the other a stranger. I suppose they thought
us too young to mind speaking before us, for one
said-'" I thought you told me that Mrs. Peregine was
very rich, and just look at them children, how ugly
they are dressed?"   "Oh! no," said the other, "it
is not ugly they are, but she is a Quakler, so she
I 
OUR CROS.i.
dresses them pretty and plain, for that is her notion
of duty, the cratur."  The oranges were bought, and
the fruit women  went away.   But the mysterious
connection between my mother's duty, and our ugly
dresses, puzzled me.   I did not know before, that
they were so ugly. As I had then no intercourse
whatever with the "people of the world," I had no
idea how other children were attired; and we were
undoubtedly the best dressed in our own Meeting.
Our first day frocks were made of beautifully fine
cambric, with rows of herringbone, exquisitely worked, over each of the six tucks. Our Friends' bonnets
were of the richest and most delicate drab silk; and
our silk tippets, to match, had a row of stitching over
the broad hem, instead of the plain running. I could
not understand why our dress was called ugly by these
poor, shabby, barefooted women; and after keeping
the matter in my mind for weeks, at last I summoned
courage, and asked my father himself to explain it.
A smile spread itself over his dear grave face, as he
said, it was quite time for me to understand, that it
was a rule of our Society, that we should drbess plain.
"But," he added, "do not think it ugly, and what
matter what those poor women think or say." He
then explained to me, that "plainness of speech, behaviour and apparel," was a cross which Friends were
given to bear in the sight of the world, as a testimony
against the vain fashions and vanities of life, by which
others were ensnared and led away.
The matter ended there, though I was not satisfied,
I- 117
2:', 
FIRST SCHOOL.
nor could I understand it. But it was a great comfort to know, that my father did not think it ugly;
and I felt, as if rather elevated, at the idea of superiority over the rest of the world, and proud of having
a cross to bear.
Soon after this I was sent to a day school, kept by
a lady, in the outskirts of the city. She was not a
Friend, and the greater number of her pupils were
not neither. Some few were. I was very strictly
charged to remember that I was a Friend-not to say
you to any one; and not to pick up any unfriendly
habits or words.
It was a great event to me, and I felt quite elated
when mounted on a well appointed donkey, and
attended by the old coachman, carrying my books, I
set off for school for the first time. But before I
reached the house, I had to endure a great mortification. The rude boys, out of the cabins, stared at
me, shouted, and I distinctly heard them saying"Oh! look! there is a little'thee and thou' on a
donkey!"  And "oh! what a bonnet!"  And some
of them ran after me the whole way, singing out,
"Thee and Thou the Quaker's cow."
The mistress received me very kindly, but she too
vexed me; for I saw her smile at my bonnet as she
untied, and placed it on a table among all the other
childrenr's straw bonnets.  I saw that it was, indeed,
a very ugly thing, but there was no time to think
about it then; I was hurried into the school-room,
and formally introduced to my twenty-three fellow
18 
FIRST SCHIIOOL.
pupils.  Oh! how they all looked at me!  They did
not say so, but I felt satisfied that they thought me
very ugly; and I almost hated myself for my odious
Quaker dress. But this was only the beginning of
my troubles. After a little time, I was desired to
learn a task, which seemed to me, unreasonably difficult. It was twelve words of two syllable spelling.
I looked at it in despair, and then said, "I tell thee
Charlotte, I never could learn such a long lesson."
She smiled, and the girls all tittered. I saw they
were laughing at me; and, vexed, mortified, and puzzled to know the cause of my annoyance, I looked
about, and seeing the sash of a low window up, which
opened into the garden, I sprang out, and ran down
the walk; and when quite out of sight, sat down on
the grass, and indulged myself with a good hearty fit
of crying.
I was just beginning to get tired of that amusement, when one of the girls, a little older than myself, came and sat down beside me.   She looked so
pretty, and was so kind and gentle, that she soon
wiled me out of my bad temper, and then I asked her
why they all laughed at me?
'"Why," said she, I it was so funny to hear you
say Charlotte to Miss Vivier, and you said,'I tell
thee'-we never heard any one say such a thing before. You may call me Sophy, and you may call all
the girls by their names, if you like it, but you must
never be so rude as to call Miss Vivier, anything but
Miss Vivier."
19 
KNEE WOSIITIP.
"But," said I, "I did not mean to be rude, only I
am a Friend, and Friends are not allowed to say 3Iiss
to any one. And sure thee would not have me be so
wicked as to say you to any one."
"Well, no matter now," said Sophy, "but come
back to school, or Miss Vivier will be angry with us
-you will be wiser in a few days."
We returned together, and as we entered the room
I observed that Sophy made a slight but very graceful curtsey. I was very sorry to see her do so bad
a thing; for not long before, I had heard a plain
Friend speaking about the "people of the world"
curtseying, and she called it "knee worship;" so that
I was quite horrified when Miss Vivier called me
over, and said-" Miss Peregrine, do not leave the
room again, without asking permission, and then go
out by the door, not by the window; and when you
come into the room, make a curtsey, as all well taught
young ladies do. Go back now, and come in as you
saw Miss Sophy, just now."
I was afraid to speak, lest they should laugh at me
again. So I obeyed with a very bad grace,' for it was
against my  conscience, and made a very awkward
kind of a full stop at the door, which was allowed to
pass for that day. I was very glad when the time
came to go home; and as the car had been sent for
me, I had no more annoyance from the rude boys.
Mamma met me at the door. She saw the traces
of tears, and asked the cause.  I told her all.  She
smiled and kissed me, and told me not to fret about
20
.1 
CONSCIENCE.
such things, that it was no sin at all, to say  Iizes or
you, either, or to curtsey. That as papa liked us to
be Friends, and use the plain language, we must do
so among Friends, but that there was not one word
about such things in the Bible.
"Well then, Mamma, said I, if it is no sin to say
Miss, because it is not forbid in the Bible, it would
be no sin to give me a straw bonnet, for that is not
in the Bible either, I am sure." Oh! how fondly I
loved her; when I saw her dear face smiling again,
and she desired me to go call back the car, and she
would take me to town and buy me a straw bonnet.
She did so, and all my vexations ceased. The girls
congratulated me next day on my pretty bonnet; and
though my attempted curtsey was still only a full
stop; and though I sometimes forgot myself, and said
thee, yet I felt as if a mountain had fallen off me,
and to nay great surprise I had no pricking of conscience, which I was fearful would have tormented me,
as it always did when I told a lie, or stole anything
nice out of the closet at home.
I continued at that school for three years. My
companions there, are all scattered over the face of
the earth, or lie hid beneath its bosom.  I soon lost
sight of them; but Miss Vivier, my clever, sweettempered, affectionate teacher, continued to be my
friend until a very short time since, when it pleased
the Almighty to recall her to himself, from the fond
husband and cherished family to whom she was most
dear. She was married to a most estimable gentleman, soon after I left her school.
21 
MEETINGS.
I was always afterwards allowed to wear my straw
bonnet in summer, and a drab beaver in winter, every
where except at Meeting. Going there, I had to put
on the cold stiff badge of the Society.
Oh! what a weariness those long formal first-day
Morning Meetings were to me!  Sometimes I would
resolve to be good, and try to think holy things. It
was impossible. I could not keep on for two hours
at a time, thinking religion, without getting any external help. Our meeting was a very large one. We
had five women ministers, and one man. Hie was
then only just "acknowledged," and seldom spoke;
and when he did, he shook so much, and his voice
trembled so greatly, his eyes were shut very tight,
and his two large hands spread out on the gallery
railing, that it was quite an awful thing to me, to hear
him, though indeed I never then thought of attending
to the purport of his sermons. They were not in-tended for the comprehension of a child.
There was one of the women ministers who seldom
spoke, but I liked to see her stand up. I could understand her.  She would say something like this:
"Since I took my seat in this Meeting, these few
words have been greatly impressed on my mind. Oh!
that my people were wise, that they would consider
their latter end!"  She rarely gave utterance to a
longer sentence, and though she did jerk it out in a
very extraordinary manner, still it was pleasant to
hear her.
Then there was Mary Dalton;  she was, as our
Friends used to say, "very large in the ministrv."
22 
MEETINGS.
She could keep on for an hour and more at a time. I
have by me a book, containing some dozens of her
sermons, taken down by my dear mother; and they
are such long rambling discourses, that it would be a
wonder if any child attended to them.
The way I tried to get over the time generally, was
saying over in my mind all my hymns, verses, and
songs; I had a good large stock of all these in my
memory.  Then I would reckon first the women, and
then the men; then the men who wore broad brims,
and then those who wore churn hats; then the plain
women who had their bonnets plaited, and then the
gay young Friends who had gathers and frills behind.
This was, no doubt, all very silly and very childish,
but I was very young then. When I grew older, I
had other kinds of ideas, more sensible and more
amusing, but quite as far off from religion, or even
the most distant approach to worship.
We always drove to Meeting in the carriage, and
I used to feel very well satisfied at stepping in before so many watchers, to the best appointed of all the
equipages that waited at the gate. The men leaving
the Meeting first, would cluster round the hall and
gate to wait for the women, or it might be to gaze at
them. Every Friend who owned a car or carriage,
was sure to have it there on first days, even those who
lived in the next street, would drive to Meeting. My
dear father highly disapproved of this custom; he always walked, whether wet or fine; and I have often
heard him say, he never took cold from sitting in
Meeting in damp clothes or wet shoes.
23 
VISIT TO CORK.
CHAPTER II.
Visit to Cork-Immigration of souls from Purgatory-Bible reading
-Old Dolly-Chapel of the Presentation Convent-Church-Qua ker servant-Novels-Pious roguery-Teachers.
MY first excursion from home, was a visit to Cork,
with my mother, and an uncle, who lived with us.
We travelled with our own carriage and horses, and
were four days on the road. I enjoyed greatly the
journey; the inns seemed to me such wonderful
places; and the strange beds, and the people talking
Irish; and some of them looked so wretched, and
some so savage, and my uncle told me delightful stories; and one about robbers, just as we were driving
over Watergrass Hill, which was then notorious for
its lawless and brutal inhabitants.
We were going to visit a lady, not a Friend, an old
acquaintance of my mother's; and the idea of going
among "the people of the world," was a delightful
idea to me, although I more than half thought I was
going into a den of wickedness; for a firm conviction
had been very early implanted in my mind, that whatever was not quakerish, was wicked. How I had imbibed the notion I cannot tell, certainly, it was not
from my mother. She was no bigot, and it was only
24
I 
VISIT TO CORK.
to please my father, that she either wore the dress of
the Society herself, or put it on her daughters.
Cork was my mother's native-place; and as most
of her relations lived there, we had many visitors.
We went to several large dinner parties; our conveyance was a sedan chair. I had several nice dresses,
and was taken much notice of; and as my dear mother
was in the habit every night of requiring me to give
her a kind of resume of all that passed in the day, before I repeated the Lord's prayer on my knees, as
usual, it all made a great impression on my memory.
It is a most advantageous habit to acquire, that of
rehearsing to one's-self, nightly, the events of the day.
Though many, or most of them, may appear too trifling to be worth impressing so firmly on the mind;
yet, as every trifle, as well as every passing word, will
undoubtedly be revived in our memory at the day of
judgment, it is well to ponder over them beforehand.
We have a sure promise, that all things shall work
together for good to those who love God. I am sure,
there is not one of those most trifling circumstances
which I am now recording, that has not exercised a
great influence over me, and that has not eventually
conduced very greatly to my happiness.
We were in Cork on All Souls' Day; and my mother, accompanied by some of her friends, went in the
evening to the Roman Catholic Cathedral, having
heard that there would be there a curious exhibition
of the efficacy of prayers for the dead. She told me
that on going in, the Chapel was dazzlingly light.
3
25 
26   IMMIGRATION OF SOULS FROM PURGATORY.
Wax candles three feet high, blazed upon the altar;
and every one of the numerous priests in attendance
carried in his hand a lighted taper. One of them gave an
oration, or sermon, on the inestimable value of masses
for the souls in purgatory; and assured his hearers,
that that very evening, they should behold the souls
of their own dead ancestors; who, having spent years
in torment, were now, thanks to the masses offered up
in that Chapel, emancipated from their misery, and
going to enter into the regions of glory. When he
ceased speaking, the prayers for the dead were chanted. The lights gradually went out, until the whole
chapel and its vast congregation were in total darkness; then, a sickly glare was visible around the altar;
and in that dim light, was distinctly seen a number of
small, bright-red, queer looking objects, passing over
it. One of the priests, as if in an ecstasy, then gave
thanks for the answer to his prayers; and called on
the people to be no longer faithless, but believing,
as they now saw with their own eyes, that souls were
indeed released from purgatory by the prayers of the
Church.
This curious exhibition interested me greatly; and
we were all guessing and puzzling ourselves to understand it, but in vain. However, before leaving Cork,
my mother went to pay a visit to her old nurse, and
took me with her. The old woman was delighted to
see her foster child; and called her as of old, "my
own dear Miss Mary." They chatted together for a
long time, giving each other intelligence of their dif
I 
IMMIGRATION OF SOULS FROM PURGATORY.   27
ferent families. At last my mother asked for James,
her own foster brother. Nurse said, he was well, and
had now got a fine situation. He was clerk to the
priest. Whilst speaking of him, James came in. A
nice looking man, with an eye beaming with fun and
good humour. He was most cordial in his welcome;
and my mother, with her usual tact, set him at his
ease.  In a few moments he joined in the conversation, but I forget all they said, except one part, that
no one could ever forget that heard it. My mother told
them of her visit to the chapel, and of the queer things
she had seen crawling over the altar; and she asked
James what they were?   "The souls, to be sure,
ma'am," said James. But my mother laughed, and
said, surely he knew she was only a heretic; and he
might gratify her, by telling what they really were.
"Indeed then," said James, "when you were a child,
like myself, I never could refuse you any thing; and
I am sure I wont begin to deny you now; and besides,
as you say, you are a heretic; and I wish I had half
as good a chance of heaven, for all that, as you have;
but at any rate, there is no chance of the priest ever
knowing that I told you; so you may as well hear it.
It was I, myself, that got them for him; I got all the
crabs I could lay my hands on, for love or money;
and Father Kelly and I put the little red cloth jackets
on them; and we had a thread fastened to every one
of them; if they did not chose to walk right, to make
them. And, you know, it was so dark, you could not
see much about it; and now, ma'am dear, was in not 
BIBLE BEADING.
a capital clever delusion for the poor ignorant creatures that believe every thing?"
Soon after our return home, we received a visit
from two men Friends, who had been appointed by
the Monthly Meeting, in accordance with directions
from the Dublin Yearly Meeting, to go about to each
family, and to admonish them, that the Yearly Meeting deemed it advisable they should read the Holy
Scriptures daily aloud in their families. The Friends
were received most respectfully; they performed their
task very seriously, and were then regaled with cake,
fruit, and wine. We had been in the habit of reading the Bible after breakfast every morning, as long
as ever I could remember; but previous to this visitation, I believe it was not the habit of Friends generally to do so.
I was very fond of reading; Bibles were not then
as easily to be had as they are now. I greatly desired to have one of my own; but it was many years
before I accomplished my wish. At last, however, I
succeeded, and I still possess the remains of the precious treasure, for which I paid eleven shillings; I
could now purchase as good for two.
In addition to my father's daily readings, and to
his repeated verbal instruction, I had another opportunity of acquiring spiritual knowledge.   Our  old
housekeeper, Dolly, had been married to a Roman
Catholic, and by him, forced to unite herself to his
Church. He was captain of a band in the rebellion
of 1798; and whilst in the thick of the battle which
28 
OLD DOLLY.
was fought on the bridge of Ross, was, with many
other rebels, thrown over the bridge, and perished in
the waters. He had left a will; and in it directed his
widow to pay two shillings and six-pence monthly to
the priest for masses for his soul. This Dolly regularly paid. We found after her death a pile of receipts amounting to over ~50. Out of what she
deemed respect to his memory, she continued to go to
Chapel regularly; but she was too much enlightened
to yield herself entirely to the teaching of the priest,
and read her Bible indefatigably. About the time I
now allude to, her sight was very defective; and knowing how fond I was of reading, she proposed to me to
read for her; and as doing so, might involve some
personal sacrifice, she promised to give me a fresh egg
for my breakfast every morning. I greatly disliked
my usual bread and milk fare, and she knew I did so.
I accepted the terms, and night after night, when my
mother imagined me to be in bed, I was in Dolly's
own little parlour, reading the Bible, the Douay version, whilst she darned her black stockings., I used
to wonder they were never mended; for month after
month, it was the same pair she worked away at; but
at last I found out it was only doll idle stitch she did,
for the poor woman could not see to do better; and
she fancied that I would read more willingly, if she
were employed.
When I was about ten years old, I had a great desire to go see the celebration of mass at a Chapel;
and as I well knew there would be no use in asking
3*
29 
30    CHAPEL OF TIlE PRESENTATION CONVENT.
leave to go, and unwilling to disobey, I coaxed our
maid, Jenny Freeman, to take me with her, early one
Good Friday morning, before the family were up, or
aware of our departure.
We went to the Chapel attached to the Presentation Convent. I was indeed delighted, the altar was
so beautifully ornamented; beside it was a wax doll,
exquisitely dressed, to represent the Virgin Mary;there wass a real cradle, and a little wax doll in it,
with the prettiest lace cap on its little head;-the
quilt was white satin, embroidered with gold, to represent a lamb with a cross, as if held in its fore feet;
and the flowers which were strewn so profusely around.
I never before saw such elegant artificial flowers; and
they were all highly perfumed.  I pressed as close as
possible to get a good view, and quite forgot to pay
attention to all that was going on, until I was recalled
to it, by feeling a great pull to my frock; I then
looked round, and saw that all the people were kneeling; and the old woman who had pulled my dress
whispered very loudly-" Go down on y,our knees,
you heretic." I looked down, rather bewildered, and
seeing the floor was very dirty, I said-" Oh! no, it
would soil my frock, and mamma would be angry with
me for it." An old soldier was near; I believe he
knew who I was; he grinned, and made a face at the
woman, and said -" Whist you;'tis too dirty for you,
Miss; so go over to the wall there, and may be his
reverence wont pretend to see you." It was a very
pretty show altogether; there were  about a dozen
I 
CHURCH-NOVELS.
priests, and they went in and out, always returning
in a different dress; and two pretty little boys dressed
in white, tossed the silver censers of incense about;
and the nuns peeped out now and then from behind
their screen. I thought it the prettiest piece of raree
show I had ever seen, and well worth the reprimand
I expected to receive on returning home. However,
it was poor Jenny got all the blame; and I was so
emboldened by my escape, that I resolved to watch
for an opportunity to go see the Protestant Cathedral
also. It was a long time before I attained my wish;
and when I did, it was a great disappointment to me;
for I had fancied there would be pretty things to see;
and instead of that, it was only prayers that I could
understand, and a sermon as long as one of those of
our own Women Friends; besides, reading the Bible
-which any one could do.
My father had a tolerably large and well selected
library; there were several Spanish and Portuguese
novels, but only two English in the whole collection.
These two, Sir Charles Grandison, and the, Modern
Philosopher, he had purchased at an auction, and had
never read them himself. I read them over and over
again; partly because I liked them, and partly because I so often heard Friends preaching against reading novels; who, whilst they acknowledged generally
having themselves been very fond of so doing, warned
us of the danger, because they were so very fascinating. Therefore I craved after them, and in a way I
little expected, my desire was gratified to its full ex
tent.
31 
QUAKER SERVANT-NOVELS.
Some of our overseers bethought them, that in a
large family like ours, it would be well to have Friendservants. They visited my mother on the subject;
and as such visits are made professedly as being the
result of a kind of inspiration, or as being the teaching of "best wisdom;" and are always commenced by
sitting down in deep silence, with the visitee, in an
awful solemn way, they were of course received with
the greatest respect; and although, when these overseers had relieved their minds, as they said, of this
burden laid upon them, and gone away, my mother
candidly expressed her opinion, that they were a pair
of busy bodies, meddling with what did not belong to
them; yet she submitted, and received into the family
an elderly Quaker, as head nurse-maid, Katey Rutter.
She was fat, and fair, and very well looking. Her
face was radiant with good humour and fun; her dress
was orthodox; but she wore no stays, and was rather
untidy. Her husband, a plain country Quaker, had
turned out a vile scamp, and deserted her, leaving
KIatey and three children to be provided for by the
Meeting to which they belonged. The children were
placed at the provincial school, and Katey quartered
on us. She proved an excellent servant, and most
faithfully she performed her duty during the ten years
she remained. But except in her dress, and her plain
language, Katey was but little of a Quaker; and
among others of her unquakerly propensities, was an
ardent love of novel reading. It was by chance I
discovered this; and when I did, I bargained with her,
32 
ROGUERY.
that I would not tell on her, provided she let me read
them. She had an acquaintance in town, who kept a
circulating library, and we had the full benefit of it,
and all for nothing, but a basket of apples now and
then, and a nosegay, which was never refused when
IKatey asked leave to have them, for her friend.
Katey's children being at the provincial school,
led us often to visit it. They, as well as others of
the children, were usually, about four at a time, invited
to dine with us every first day. I did not then care
anything about the system of education pursued there;
but I remember being rather surprised, when Katey's
daughter, after being seven years under what was
called careful instruction, asked me one day to find
out the story of Telemachus in the Bible for her.
There was also just then, a young man, who had
been under the same careful teaching for seven years,
the full time children are kept at that school, whose
conduct had annoyed us exceedingly. He had been
taken into the office of a most respectable merchant
in Limerick; and on the strength of the good principles supposed to have been planted at the provincial
school, he was placed in a situation of trust.  He was
no relative or connection of ours; but being a quiet,
gentle lad, and but little noticed by others, my father
had often taken him out of the ranks, as one of our
first day dinner boys.   He appreciated the kindly
feeling, and turned it to value for himself.
At the time of our Quarterly Meeting, he told his
employer that he felt a " drawing" to attend it; and
33 
ROGUERY.
asked permission, which was readily granted. He
then wrote to my father, very humbly asking, would
his ever kind and valued friend accommodate him with
a bed, whilst the Meeting lasted, about three days.
His request was thought presumptuous, but it was acceded to; and he arrived duly, as sanctified, and demure a looking youth, as ever wore knee breeches,
standing collar, and broad brim.  He attended both
the first day Meetings; and looked so pious, that his
former acquaintances concluded he was enduring
" those turnings and over-turnings, and siftings," out
of which, we are told, "the standard bearers of the
Society come forth, purified for service." The next
morning he received a letter, on reading which, he
sighed, and told us, that he was obliged to leave immediately, that his master desired him to return by
the night's coach. Off he went, and we were all glad,
for nobody liked him; though nobody could tell why.
It was just a week after, when his master wrote to my
father, to request we would not detain him any longer.
Letters were exchanged; and then it came out, that
this pious youth had levanted with ~500-joined
another dissolute young man, and sailed for South
America, where he enrolled himself in a Portuguese
regiment, and was killed in a drunken brawl.
As my mother was very anxious that we should be
well educated, it was resolved in a family council, that
we should have an English governess.   Numerous
applications were made for the situation, and one
highly recommended was selected, at a salary of ~100
34
I 
TEACHERS.
per annum —Hannah Watthamstow. She was a native of Leeds, and had been educated at Ackworth
School. She was a very nice lady-like Friend, about
twenty-five years of age, fully competent to instruct
us in the English language. As a good grammarian,
a pleasing reader, and a beautiful writer, I have
never met any one who excelled her. But we had
commenced Latin and French, and it was quite a disappointment to find her totally ignorant of these
branches, as well as of drawing. Indeed she thought
it strange, that in a Friend's family such acquirements should be desired. So we had masters for
these; a Friend for Latin-a churchman for drawing
-and for French, Monsieur Tournay, the very model
of a Frenchman; so small, so dapper, so polite, so
exquisite in his finical proprieties, and withal so learned, that France his country, and Frenchmen his
people, are ever since, for his sake, enveloped in an
atmosphere of agreeability.
35 
MONTHLY MEETING.
CHAPTER III.
Monthly Meeting-Contrast in character-Story of a robber-Execu tions-Archbishop of Tuam-Girl's school-Value of tears-Pious
pockets-Preachings-Robbery-Visit to an elder-Novels-Re turn home.
I NOW began to attend the Monthly Meetings; and
as I find among my papers, a relation of one of them,
which I well remember, my governess giving me a
good scolding for daring to write down, I will copy
it here nearly verbatim.
Seventy women Friends, without counting the children, met in the Women's Monthly Meeting-Room,
and took their seats in silence, showing, however, occasional acts of politeness to the elders, arranging
comfortable cushions, and footstools. The silence
continued unbroken for about ten minutes, when a
minister arose, stood still for a couple of minutes, and
then said-" Silence had been the covering of her
mind, that she had desired to remain in silence; but
felt that she could not have peace, and keep her
peace; that she felt the language was going forthCome out, come out, come out of her my people. Oh!
that there might be a coming out; then peace would
flow as a river, and righteousness as the waves of the
sea." She resumed her seat, and a silence for about
five minutes ensued. Then the clerk, a plain middle
36 
MONTHILY MEETING.
aged Friend-(our clerks and assistant clerks, were
generally either widows or unmarried women)-rose
up, and read from a large, heavy manuscript volume,
the proceedings of the last Monthly Meeting; the appointments which had then been made, repeating the
names, and calling for replies from those so appointed.
She sat down, and after a short pause, up rose a dear
sober-looking Friend, who said-she, and the other
Friend named with her, (appointments are always
made in couples,) had performed the service to which
they had been nominated, and had found peace in so
doing.  The duty was to inform a young Friend, lately
come to live in the city, of the receipt and acceptance
of her certificate. A certificate of membership, and
good conduct, and freedom from marriage engage- 
ment, had been received at the last meeting; as usual,
when one Friend removes from the compass of one
Meeting to reside within the compass of another.
Then the assistant clerk rose, and read out of the
Printed Book of Minutes the ten queries. The first,
on attendance of Meetings, called forth a defective
answer from the trembling overseer, to whom the
duty appertained of replying; and as she had a very
bad memory, and no one is allowed to give a written
reply, she made many attempts to utter the few words
required, before she succeeded. Then another pause
of three minutes, and the second query, and so on all
through the ten.
There are always some exceptions made in the answer to the query, as to Friends maintaining plain      4
37 
MONTHILY MEETING.
ness of speech, behaviour and apparel. It appears
to be the most important of all the dogmas of our
Society; at least there is always more preaching about
it, and a stricter scrutiny into the answer given, than
on any other point. On the present occasion, our
minister, who had opened the Meeting, spoke on the
subject in the most awfully solemn voice,  (clutching a firm hold of the back of the seat near her) much
as follows:-" If we were more careful to attend to
the litle things-to give up the little things-to make
the little sacrifices, oh! how different should we be!
Oh, my dear friends!-my sisters! I did not wish to
speak amongst you this day; but I feel that I am
called on. Oh! dear friends, let us be faithful to
those precious testimonies, which are given us to bear;
let us be faithful. Now is the time; now is the acceptable time; the Lord's controversy is against those
vanities and corruptions, with which so many amongst
us are ledaway.  Those Babylonishgarments!  Ah!
my dear young Friends! you will not find a better
way!  Come now I entreat you in much love.  I entreat you to cast away those outward adornings-those
frills-those plaited frills-they are a snare unto you.
Now, now is the time; cast those vanities hence, and
ye shall find peace and joy. Yea, ye shall be as
standard-bearers, raised up in the midst of a faithless
and perverse generation, to uphold those precious testimonies, which our worthy predecessors were in best
wisdom enabled to give forth."
This solemn address caused a feeling of deep awe,
38
I 
iMONTHL-Y MEETING.
and a prolonged silence, which was broken by a
younger Friend. It was her first attempt, I believe,
at preaching. (She has since joined the white Friends.)
She was of a very plain countenance, and studiously
plain in her dress. She rose slowly, grasped the back
of the seat before her, and stood trembling, and greatly
agitated.  At last, in very broken accents she saida concern had long rested on her mind, that Friends
should "walk close;" that she was jealous for her dear
sisters; that she wished they could see it right to wear
plaits in their bonnets, instead of gathers; that she
hoped no one would think this a trifle; it was by trifles
people fell: and that it was under a feeling of great
weight she was made willing to say those few words.
Then we had another long silence, during which
glances were exchanged, which told plainly enough
that some of the assembly did not quite relish this last
address. However, nothing was said, and the clerk
again went on with the queries.  "Is there amongst
you any growth in the truth?" The overseer made answver-" We believe there is amongst us a growth in the
truth." She sat down, and soon a minister rose and
said-she did fear it would hardly be right to use so
strong a word as "believe;" she thought the word
"trust " would be more suitable.  An elder shortly
after remarked, that she would be glad Friends could
allow the word " believe" to remain; she did not think
it was too strong.  Another Friend, after two minutes'
pause, thought "trust " would be preferable, on which
the Friend who first suggested the alteration, rose
39 
'NMONTIILY MEETING.
again, and said-she was quite willing Friends should
use the word "believe," if they thought it best. She
then resumed her seat with rather an offended dignity
air. A very long silence now came on, and then the
clerk got up and said, she would be glad Friends would
say, which word was to be inserted in the answer?
She got no reply for a long time; at length a very
intelligent nice looking Friend, who sat far away from
the table, rose, and in a clear steady voice, said-" I
would suggest the word'hope,' perhaps it would meet
the case." The moment she sat down-(for not being
one of those accustomed to speak in Meetings, and
having, morever, an unhemmed shawl on, with a collar
of the most delicate fabric, no regard is ever paid to
what such a one may say)-the first objector stood up,
and ordered the clerk somewhat peremptorily to insert
the very word at which she herself had first cavilled.
And then after sitting down, whilst the clerk took up
the pen to obey her, she again rose, and with an extra
attempt at solemnity, spoke as follows:-" It is an
awful thing for one, who is not of the called, tpo presume
to touch the ark. For so doing Uzzah perished; and
so let all thine enemies perish, oh, Lord!  These are
solemn Meetings, and my soul tremnbleth within me.
Oh! it is a very solemn thing to speak in Meetings of
discipline, to keep down the willings and the runnings.
To be willing to sit still, this is what the Lord requires
of us, this controversy is against the willings and the
runnings. VWe must come down-come down. It is
very painful for me to be called on to speak in this
40
I 
MAONTIILY MEETING.
manner, but I (dare not withhold; and I feel I am made
willing to submit to the requirings of the life within."
She continued for a long time in the same strain
and at last, to the great joy of every one, sat down.
Whenever such a person as Betsey, who had suggested
the word hope, presumes to speak in Meeting, though
all have nominally the right equally to do so, they are
invariably put down, snubbed as it were; and generally, or at least very often, a sermon preached, not
to, but at them. A reg,istry of birth was then read;
also an Epistle from one of the American Meetings;
and a message then sent to the Men's Meeting, sitting
in another room, to ask, if they had any business to
communicate to Women Friends. They kept us waiting a weary while; and then sent in a paper of disunion, testifying against a young man who had so far
neglected the shinings of the light within, as to suffer
himself to be joined in marriage with a person not of
our society; thus ceasing to uphold our ancient and
valuable testimony against a hireling ministry. After
reading over the minutes of the whole, and a short
silence, the ministers shook hands with each other,
and all rose to depart.
Friends are frequently admonished not to speak out
of doors of any thing that passes in the Monthly Meetings. Few of the advices there given have more wisdom in them than this. Often and often have I heard
in them advices given, in a kind of half preaching way,
which would redound but little to the common sense of
the sisterhood. I have heard women Friends advised
4*
41 
MONTHLY MEETING.
to burn all newspapers that came into their houses,
to prevent their husbands, sons, and brothers from
reading them. I could fill a volume, were I to write
down all the advices I have heard given in those Meet  ings, about different articles of dress, curls, side  combs; every possible minutia has, from time to time,
been expiated on, and censured ad nauseam. And,
alas! these senseless ravings are given forth, as if the
speakers were under the influence of immediate in
spiration.
I attribute my mother's many unquakerly habits to
the very superior education she had received at a
first-rate Boarding-school, near London. There were
several young Friends at it as well as herself, but the
mistress was an Episcopalian. However it was, my
mother had formed the opinion, that if a subject was
of sufficient importance to be spoken of in our meetings, it was surely worth attention and reflection out
of them. And also, that if it was not right to speak
of such things out of Meetings, it was much less right
to speak of thema there. 
WTe were early acustomed to discuss these things
among ourselves, and anything very flagrant we told
to our father; but being aln elder, and in duty bound
to take notice of themn, he did not like to be told, lest
it should bring him into collision with the women,
about half a dozen of whom ruled the men as well as
the w-omen, with an arbitrary and tyrannical sway.
There was a little woman in our Meeting, whom no
one seemed to think it worth while to speak to, or
42
I 
CONTRAST IN CHARACTER.
notice. She was so much accustomed to be thrust
aside, that she was in the habit of running home
before the crowd, which always loiters in the halls
of our Meetings, to chat and exchange greetings, had
come out. My father used to call her the Honourable
Betty Green. He said if any one ever deserved that
title, she did. Her husband, a dissolute, bad, old
Quaker, died, and left her in poverty, and deeply in
debt, with a family to provide for. Betty had a soul
above dependence; and respectfully declined to receive assistance from the Meeting. She toiled on for
years, and at last startled us all, by putting an advertisement in the Newspaper, inviting all her husband's
creditors to furnish their accounts to her.   She paid
them every farthing due, and interest, and then relapsed into her old quiet way. And at her death, left
her only surviving child a handsome independence.
My father was her only confidant.   He had lent her
the fifty pounds she required for a commencement,
and had cheered her on in her honourable course.
Hers was the first funeral I attended. It was conducted all in silence, and few tears were shed for her.
She died as she had lived, humbly, solitary, and neglected by the Friends. But who will say, that her
happy and glorified spirit, does not now rank as high
as the spirit of that self-righteous woman, who, because she was a minister, would sweep past poor
Betty, nor deign to look a return to the timid salutation I have often seen given. That minister, was like
Betty, left a widow, and her husband died in debt.
43
I'll 
STORY OF A ROBBER.
But no effort was made to pay his creditors. On the
contrary, by the death of wealthy relatives, riches
flowed in upon her. She lived in luxury, and died of
over-eating. I was at her funeral also. It was very
large, and Friend after Friend preached at the grave,
or rather eulogized the departed, and spoke of her as
one of the bright shining lights of our Society; calling on the young people to follow in the steps she had
trod. And all this laudation-would it have been
given had she not been rich, and gifted with effrontery
to stand up, and with her bonnet off, her head merely
covered with a little black silk skull cap, speak for an
hour or more at a time? I trow not.
Our family was accustomed to spend a couple of
months each summer, at the sea side. One evening
when my father and uncle were driving there to meet
us, they were attacked by three robbers. One seized
the horse, and one at each side of the gig, with a
loaded pistol, threateningly held up, demanded their
money and watches. Of course there was nothing
for it, but to obey. As my father gave hie, he said
to the robber-" If ever thou shouldst want a friend,
remember and send for me."
Two years after this, a message was sent to my
father, that a man under sentence of death in the
county gaol wished to see him  exceedingly.   He
obtained the necessary order for admission, and went
without having any idea who it could be. On entering the condemned cell, hlie recognized the face of the
person who had robbed him two years before.   The
44
I 
STORY OF A ROBBER.
man looked at him, and trembled violently.  "Why,"
said he, "did you tell me, if I wanted a friend, to
remember and send for you?"  "Really," replied my
father, "I hardly know why I said it; but if I can
do anything for thee now, tell me, and if right to be
done, I wi.l do it."  "Sir," said he, "I have never
had a moment's peace since I robbed you. I knew I
would be hanged for it, for no one can injure a Quaker, and not feel that vengeance will pursue them.
Now, for stealing a horse, I am sentenced to death by
the judge. But, sir, it is God has sentenced me for
robbing you." Ile then told where the watch would
be found, in a hole in a wall about four miles from the
city, indicating the spot with minute accuracy.  It
was found there a few days afterwards, and had evidently lain there a long time.
My father spoke to him kindly; found that he was
in some degree educated; he could read well, but was
in the grossest ignorance of his duty either to God or
man. He confessed freely, that he had lived a most
wicked life; he was the leader or captain of a band of
highwaymen; but strange to say, his conscience had
never been silent.  Its monitions had tormented him,
and a fearful expectation of meeting the due reward
of his crimes in this world, he had not been able to
get rid of. He had never committed murder. Being
free from that sin was his greatest and only comfort.
He seemed to think it was almost a virtue. My father
promised to make intercession for his life; but warned
him of the improbability of his interference being suc
45 
STORY OF A ROBBER.
cessful-the law, then, was so severe, and the penalty
of death so rigidly executed.  " Sir," said he, "it is
not that I want of you.  I know I must die; but oh!
sir, I am afraid to meet God. What shall I do?"
And he wept abundantly. My father told him of the
hope of the Gospel, of the free pardon given to all
who believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. I-e listened
with intense avidity, but was quite incredulous that
such a glorious pardon would be given to him. The
next day, my father again visited him, and brought
him a Testament; marked the most suitable passages
and desired him to believe in them, for that the promises there offered to him, were as true as they were
simple. The poor fellow had been given what they
called a long day; that was two weeks. During that
time, my father had exerted himself in every possible
way to get the sentence commuted. Hie had interested the best, the highest, and the noblest in the
city in the case, but in vain. On going to the gaol
on the third day before the execution, my father was
refused admission, and was told that an order had
been sent not to allow him to see the condemned man
again.  That evening he received a parcel from the
governor of the gaol, containing the Testament and a
note, saying, the Priest was going to take it away,
but the condemned man had entreated him to return
it to his only friend.
This circumstance, and at the same time, the execution of a poor sweep, who, it soon afterwards transpired, was hanged for a crime of which he was not
46
I 
EXECUTION-ARCHBISHOP TUAM.
guilty, made a deep impression on my father's mind.
He resolved to do what he could towards having those
laws changed, which were so cruelly severe. After
much serious and prayerful thought on the subject,
he wrote (I was his assistant amanuensis) to all the
judges, and to most of the influential men in the
country, entreating their attention to the unchristian
severity of our penal statutes. He acted entirely as
an individual, the Society had nothing to do with it.
Perhaps, except my mother and myself, no one knew
of the efforts he made to have the punishment of death
done away with, for all crimes, but murder. He received the kindest replies from all parts; thanks for
bringing the subject under notice, and promises of
legislative interference. Amongst them was one from
the Archbishop of Tuam, which cheered him greatly,
and assured him that the work then commenced, would
be carried on strenuously, until the desired end was
achieved. The Archbishop had been a fellow student
at the University with my father. Whilst he was
Bishop Trench, he had renewed his acquaintance, and
now again these two pious men cemented a friendship
which, commenced on earth, they are now doubtless
enjoying in the mansions of glory, prepared for
Christ's redeemed children.
Our governess having left us, in expectation of being married to a Friend in Yorkshire, to whom she
was partly engaged when she came to Ireland, but
who finally jilted her, it was resolved to send me to
the School for the Daughters of Friends. I greatly
47 
GIRLS' SCHIIOOL.
dreaded and disliked this plan; for I had heard, alas!
too truly, that the Mistress was a very plain, strict
Friend, a rigid disciplinarian, and of a somewhat
tartaric temper.
The distance from our own happy home was only
twenty-five miles; but in those days it was a journey
quite long enough for one day. We started, my
mother and myself, after an early breakfast; and,
having to refresh the horses twice on the road, it was
late in the evening when we arrived. But the time
passed rapidly; my mother was possessed of an unfailing fund of traditionary stories and anecdotes,
and gifted with a happy method of relating them,
interspersed with her own wise, and oftentimes droll
and quaint observations.
There were forty girls at the school, only a very
few older than myself.   Two  Mistresses,  Sisters
Betsey and Anne, an English governess, and five
young women, half teachers, half pupils. The house
was large and convenient; and opening on a lonely
road, was surrounded by a large and well stocked
garden at the back, and this was separated from the
rest of the world by a mill-stream at one side, and
the river at the other. We had always the very best
plain fare. Sister Anne presided over the housekeeping department. She was a liberal soul, and
spared not those ingredients which constitute the essence of good living. She was a simple-minded, gentle, retiring person; affectionately kind to us all, and
on several occasions I found her especially so to me.
48
I 
GIRLS' SCHIOOL.
We all knew that the great aim and object of Sister
Anne's life, was to walk humbly before her God, to
maintain the principles and peculiarities of her profession, and to promote the comfort and happiness of
us girls; and we all loved her.
Betsey was as opposite to her gentle sister as night
from day. She was, what is called, a strong-minded
woman; and strong in the belief of her own infallibility, she certainly was. She had been selected for
the post she held, as being a Model Quakeress-one
whom we young ones would do well to copy in all
things. She was a personification of peculiarities.
Small, neat, and naturally well-looking, but with an
unfeminine severity of countenance. The girls told
me they had seen her smile. I never did. Her features, as well as her mind, were too sternly disciplined ever to relax. Her dress was neat, and costly
too. Her gown, of very dark brown tabinet, was
made, as the gowns of our aristocratic Friends always
are, so very long, as to require holding up when
walking even across a room; and her petticoat, of the
same material, was just short enough to show the neat,
fine, white cotton stocking, and the highly polished
short quartered shoe, with its broad ribbon tie. The
muslin of which her caps and neck-kerchiefs were
made, was of a fabric fine enough for Majesty to
wear. The time bestowed on washing, ironing, clearstarching, and tacking them, was amazing; but they
were perfect structures of delicate folds, when completed. The education given at that school was cx      5
49 
GIRLS' SCHOOL.
cellent, so far as it went. The governess was a firstrate scholar herself; and though as plain a Friend
as either of the sisters, yet she was cast in a very
different mould. She was loveable, of a much higher
degree of mental culture and refinement than the
others. I was very fond of her. She spoke a few
kind words to me on my arrival; and there is nothing
makes so indelible an impression on the heart as kind
words, spoken with a kind look accompanying them,
when one is sad, and feels desolate. But besides this,
I had another bond of union with my governess. I
soon found out that, like myself, she was no great
favourite with Sister Betsey.
How strange a thing is that intuitive feeling of
liking and disliking a person at first sight. I have
experienced it repeatedly; and years after, without
intermediate intercourse, I have felt the truthfulness
of that mysterious index.
My dress gave me a world of trouble with Sister
Betsey. The rule of the school was, to wear whatever clothes the parents sent, provided they were not
unfriendly. Mine were always thought to be passably
orthodox at home; but Sister Betsey found out much
to alter. The hem on my plain muslin collars was
too broad; I had to rip, and re-work them the breadth
of a straw. My shawl was bound with narrow ribbon, which had to come off, and a broad hem to be
put on instead. I had to take the sleeves out of my
frocks; she cut them to her own taste, and then I
had to put them in again. The gathers were taken
50
t
I 
GIRLS' SCHOOL.
out of my Friends' bonnet, and plaits put in. I murmured at the weary, hateful task; spoiling my clothes,
for no earthly good. But it was no use; I was not
even allowed to study with the other girls, till the
clothes were all finished in the prescribed way.
"Pretty schooling, this," said I; "I am sure I
was not sent here to learn mantua-making. I will
write home, and tell my mother the kind of schooling
I am getting."
"Silly child," said a good-humoured girl beside
me, "thou must learn Quakerism."
"But," said I, "is it not provoking?  I must put
a broad hem on one thing, and take it off another."
"Ah! that  is only  emblematical,"  said she.
"Friends may swallow a camel, sometimes, but they
must always strain at gnats. However," said she,
"don't grumble about it. Whenever any of the girls
want to get into favour with Sister Betsey, they tell
her every thing they hear us say. There is Eliza
Morland always prowling about now, listening to
every one; take care what thou sayest to her, or in
her hearing, for it will all go at once to Betsey. And
as to the writing home, put that out of thy head at
once; for all our letters are read before they leave
the house. I never received a letter since I came
here, that had not got the seal broken open. But
what matter," said the light-hearted girl; "in a year
or two it will be all over, and then I'll go home, and
I'll get a straw bonnet, and I'll put red ribbons on
it."
51 
VALUE OF TEARS.
We had a chapter in the Bible read to us every
morning after breakfast, and again at night another.
No observation was made, or explanation given; but
frequently at night Sister Betsey would preach about
her own devotedness, her feelings, her desire to promote our real welfare; and she would give pious slaps
at any misdemeanour we had been guilty of during
the day. Happy was the girl who, softened by these
addresses, could show her susceptibility by tears. No
homage was so grateful to Sister Betsey as this; the
triumphant proofs of her eloquence-this assurance
that her spiritual travail was accomplishing its desired
end. I had no tears thus at command, and consequently I never was a favourite.
There were two of the girls given to preaching;
these two-both prime pets of Sister Betsey-plagued
me sadly. My hair was long. Oh! what concerns
Eliza Morland had, that I should not only have it
cropped off like her own, but that, influenced by her
persuasion, I should ask permission to have it done.
She said "it would be an acceptable sacrifice." Then
my boots; there was a tassel on my boots, which
caused great mental concern to both Eliza and Anne.
They entreated me to cut off the Babylonish ornament, and told me " I would have peace in so doing."
Another thing disturbed these righteous girls, as
Sister Betsey once called them to me; that was, that
before getting into bed, I knelt to repeat the Lord's
prayer, as my mother had ever taught me to do.
There was not one of all the forty girls, but myself,
52
I 
PRPEACHINGS.
had been so habituated. Eliza and Anne remonstrated
with me on this, which they called a Popish practice;
and because I paid no regard to their preachings, they
then went and told Sister Betsey, and she forbid me
to kneel.  She said " it was too solemn an act for any
one but an appointed minister of our Society, and
wholly unbecoming in one so far from righteousness
as I was.
We were regularly marched out to walk every fine
day. Two and two-a long string of us paraded
through the town; and the same way to Meetings.
If the streets were wet, as indeed they generally were,
and dirty too, in winter, we were all obliged to wear
pattens. What a clatter we made! Unaccustomed
to the use of them, I begged to go without, but was
told, "my request was the fruit of a corrupt inclination;" so of course I mounted them like the others,
and tottered off.  The first attempt my ancle turned.
As soon as that got well, I was compelled to mount
upon them again, and again I fell; and this happened
so often, and so often I limped into Meeting, Slat at
last I gained my point, and the abominable pattens
were given to another.
The Meeting was not as large as that which I came
from. There were but two women ministers, and no
man at all. Occasionally a man sitting in the body
of the meeting spoke; but they used to pull him down
when he stood up, so that he seldom succeeded in unburthening his mind. He was a poor man, a shopkeeper, and his wife and daughter thought he had as
53
0 
PREACHINGS.
good a right to be heard as any one else. One first
day he attempted a sermon; and when all the pulling
did not keep him quiet, they forced him out of the
Meeting. Whilst so doing, his wife rose up, and
shouted out -" Quench not the Spirit." She was then
subjected to the same summary eviction; and then up
rose the daughter, and shrieked out-" Despise not
prophesyings." She had to make her exit also in
double quick time. These people often broke the silence of our Meetings; the real ministers but rarely.
They were very indifferent preachers; or rather, as
Friends say, their gifts in the ministry were very
small.
Some of our girls could speak on their fingers; we
had many a conversation of this kind, which relieved
the tedium of the silent Meetings.
The affairs of the Society here, were altogether
governed by the women; some of whom possessed
great energy of character. Indeed I believe they
cared far more for the upholding of the discipline, than
did the men; who, engaged as they were in business,
were content quietly and honorably to plod on their
way; and thus they resigned to the women that supremacy in the Society, which they coveted, and the
others disregarded. Out of Meeting I have heard
the men say, it was too bad that Sarah Mills should
dictate to the Men's Monthly Meeting. But she was
a clever woman, and had them all well in hand, and
kept them so while she lived. Two women only ever
ventured to oppose her will.  They were as stout
54
F,I
I 
ROBBERY.
hearted as herself. Not being so wealthy, their influence was greatly less; but they had many a skirmish, and sometimes a little more than that, in our
Women's Monthly Meetings. I often thought I would
like to pat Rebecca Wallis on the back, when she
stood up to dispute a point with Sarah Mills, who was
so fat, and so supreme in her dictatorial capacity,
that she would not even pay the Meeting the usual
courtesy of rising to address it, but was accustomed
to keep her seat, and from it indulge in those tirades
she gloried in inflicting on the silent crowd.
One morning we were all aroused from our slumbers earlier that usual, with the astonishing news that
robbers had been in the house during the night. We
hastened down stairs, and there saw that the work of
spoliation had indeed been unsparingly carried on.
Our desks and work-boxes had been broken open, and
rifled-not one silver thimble was left us. Our purses
were emptied. All our treasures were gone. Even
our silk umbrellas; the cotton ones were left. Cloaks,
shawls, silver spoons, books-all were swept away.
The robbers had evidently spent a long time in the
house. They had eaten and drunk abundantly; and
moreover, after emptying the desks, they had actually
sat down and written sentence after sentence on the
paper found therein, and even had perpetrated an
attempt at congratulatory poetry, to the fair vestals
whose sanctuary they were polluting. The leader of
the gang-which was afterwards broken up, and most
of them transported, but not before they had in a
55
r, 
ROBBERY.
similar manner despoiled more than a dozen Friends'
houses-was a young man who had applied for membership in the Society. He had managed to get into
service in a Friend's family; then he went to first day
Meetings, mounted a broad brim, and made his humble
application for membership on the ground of convincement. He was never admitted; but he had access to
many Friends' houses, and found out the vulnerable
parts of them, and the places where the treasures were
kept. When apprehended, he freely told of all his
doings, and would laugh heartily at them. His gang
consisted of six men, a boy, and one woman. One of
them cut out the pane of a window, then the boy
went in, and opened it gently for them. The woman
carried a candle, which they said, being made of the
fat of a dead man, shed a somniferous influence over
all in the house. He said it was his attachment to the
Society, which led him to give so decided a preference
to Friends' houses. But some people thought it was
because he imagined they would not prosecute him if
he were detected. He was disappointed. No man
is so meek and gentle as a Quaker, provided his
interest is not molested; touch that, and you touch
the apple of his eye. Unregenerate human nature
is exactly the same in all men. The outward garb
alters not the inward man.
One evening a party of us went by invitation to
visit the house and grounds of Friend Draper.   I
had long wished to go there. The place was kept
beautifully neat; it was well situated, commanding
56
I 
VISIT TO AN ELDER.
fine views of the surrounding country. The flowers,
the grotto, made at an enormous cost, the walks, the
ponds-all were in keeping, and all beautiful. After
seeing them, we were conducted into the house, and
there gratified with a sight of an extensive collection
of shells, minerals, and curiosities of all kinds; and
then shown into a room, where a table was laid out
with fruits, cakes, creams, and flowers. Friend Draper bade us "take our seats, and fire away"-his
peculiar phraseology, but it meant, pray regale yourselves. He was a very eccentric old bachelor, a very
plain Friend, and very wealthy; lived quite solitary,
but in great luxury. As he was old, and fanciful, and
was not known to have any near relative, there were
many people found ready to conform themselves to
his will, in the unspoken hope of being made heirs to
his possessions.   The dear Friend permitted their
attentions to him, and when he died he left all his
property to his own two illegitimate children.
One of our girls used to make for herself, and wear,
most enormous pockets.  "Jane," said I, "is it to be
thought pious, thou hast such big pockets?"   She
laughed.   "Yes," said she, "Sister Betsey does think
them more friendly than thy little scraps of things;
but they are very convenient. Look! what I have in
them now." I looked and saw a good sized book; it
was Ivanhoe.   "I can always borrow a book when I
go to dine with my cousin on first day," said Jane;
and if thou wilt write out my French Exercise for me,
57
k 
NOVELS-RETURN HIOME.
I will let thee read it."   I gladly agreed;  and
whether it was because stolen waters are sweet, or
because of the exceeding fascination of the book itself,
certainly no one ever enjoyed a book more than I did
that, and some more of the same delightful author's
works, which I obtained in the same manner. When
reading it in the arbour or in the study, I always took
care to provide myself with either an Atlas or Sarah
Grubb's Journal; and then if either one of the Mistresses or one of the spy girls came in sight, the
Novel was popped under, and the Atlas or the Journal looked innocent or edifying.
When the time of probation was ended, and the
happy hour came for emancipation from school thraldom, and returm to home, for any of us, it was thought
a hardened thing to show any signs of gladness Sister Betsey often told us that our school days were the
only happy days we should have in this world. Therefore tears at being removed from her fostering care
were becoming; and the pious girls used to weep wonderfully. When my turn came, I felt as if ] had been
inhaling oxygen gas. I could no more weep, than she
could smile at the idea of losing a pupil who had been
very well paid for. However, we parted, quite friendly; she kissed me, and said, that though I had always
been obdurate, she loved me for my father's sake.
That I had made such good progress in my studies,
she trusted that she might yet see me devoting my
abilities to the good of our Society. That she consi
58
I 
RETURN HOME.
dered me quite qualified to become clerk to a Monthly
Meeting-yes; even to the Yearly Meeting. No
commendation could be more flattering than this.
The pious girls, who were always doing mean things
to worm themselves into her favour, were amazed;
and I departed, laughing and triumphant.
59 
HOME.
CHAPTER IV.
Home-lDress-Piety in pattens-Inanity of Quakerism-Quarterly
Meetings-Friend Brown's effrontery-Masquerades-Christ called
a principle and not a person-Borrowing money-The sisters Ben and his breeches pockets-Ignorance of use-Husband and
Wife-Intemperance-The Resurrection.
HOME, delightful happy home! what a multitude of
blessed joys were garnered there! It seemed as if a
halo of peace and happiness encircled my father, and
shed its glories on all belonging to him. I have heard
a Roman Catholic Priest at one time, and a good old
English Quaker at another, say, that when seated beside him, they felt they were in the company of a
child of God. I never saw him angry, or heard a
hasty word out of his lips. When any one displeased
him, he would become very grave, and look sad. The
next day he would take a private opportunity of speaking to the offender; and always so kindly, and so reasonably, and so scripturally were those remonstrances
and reproofs given, that they were invariably efficacious.
Delighted with my new found liberty, I now indulged myself somewhat too freely in the use of those
ribbons and blonds in which young girls take pleasure,
but which are so little in accordance with the " sim
60 
DRESS-PIETY IN PATTENS.
plicity of our Christian professions." At last, my
father requested me to lay them aside, and to resume
the dress of our people, though not in its extreme
plainness and ugliness.   To gratify him  was far
dearer to me than even gay attire, and I arrayed
myself accordingly.   My  looking-glass comforting
me with its assurance, that a well-made coquettish
Quaker bonnet, was by no means an unbecoming one.
There was a man Friend in our Meeting, who had
in his childhood been the object of a simple, wellmeaning mother's care. With the view of making
him righteous, she had kept him in petticoats until he
was over eight years old. She took him regularly by
the hand to Meeting thus dressed, with a flat white
beaver hat, and pattens like a girl. At the time I
speak of, he was a portly man, but still he bore the
name of Piety in Pattens.
This man was one much given to the habit of encouraging young people to become "standard bearers."
If he saw any one dressed in a new garb, somewhat of
a plainer form than that it superseded, he would smile
sweetly on the wearer. In shaking hands, he would
squeeze your fingers with a significant and pleasing
look, at the improved appearance. And if you took
it kindly, you might be morally certain, that on the
first opportunity, you would be appointed to one of
the minor offices in the Society. This system he now
began to try on me.  Unfortunately for his designs, I
had not within me the elements of Quakerism. But,
6
61
a-V-1-1
-LI I 
QUARTERLY MEETINGS.
indeed, I sincerely hope, the work I am now writing,
may do more good to the Society than I should ever
have done, had I remained amongst them, and realized
the hope so often expressed to me, of upholding their
doctrines by my words and practice. For as
" Sill is a monster of so vile a mien,
As to be hated, needs but to be seen,"
so, I trust the dawdling inanity to which Quakerism
is now sunk, needs but to be exposed, to cause the
many intelligent, intellectual, and sensible people, who
are now bound to it by a species of moral thraldom,
to arouse themselves and see, whether those amongst
them who are now quietly allowed to take the lead,
are such as it is creditable for people possessed of
common sense to submit to.
Having expressed a wish to attend the Quarterly
Meeting at Youghal, my father asked me had I a concern to go to it? I told him no religious concern,
but a good deal of curiosity. He said I should be
gratified, and he hoped good would result from it.
He would accompany me himself. 
I had a week's time to prepare, to get new dresses,
and all the needful et ceteras. It would not do at all,
to go to a Quarterly or Yearly Meeting without new
clothes.   The bonnet, shawl, and gown, must have
the first gloss unsullied, or you look shabby among
the crowd. We had arranged to go as far as Lismore
in our own carriage, stop a day or two there, to see
the beautiful scenery of the Blackwater, and visit
62 
FRIEND BROWN'S EFFRONTERY.
some gentlemen whom my father wished to interest in
the business he had for some time on his mind-the
abolition of underground dungeons attached to prisons
and lock-up houses-and then to post on to Youghal.
More than half my anticipated pleasure was in the
prospect of that journey with my own dear father.
The day before that fixed for our departure, old
Friend Thomas Brown, came to speak to my father.
.le was showed into the parlour, where we all assembled just after breakfast. After the customary salutations, he sat down, and fell into silence. Of course
we all wondered what was coming; but we respectfully waited until he was ready to unburden his mind.
At last he began by saying, how greatly he was impressed "with the beauty of the simplicity of the
truth; how greatly he longed that his young friends
could be made willing to walk in it. That the beauty
of the simplicity of the truth, was a doctrine too high
for his own comprehension, and therefore he would
greatly recommend us to cast away all doubtings, and
hold fast by the beauty of the simplicity of the truth."
Then he paused a bit longer, and got up, as if to go
away; but he stopped short, and addressing my father,
said, " I heard thee was going to Youghal Meeting;
is any of thy family going with thee?"  "Yes," he
replied, " my daughter will accompany me, I expect."
"Ah!" said he, " I was thinking so; then you will
just have room for my cousin, Betty Brown, between
you. She has a concern to go, and I did not well
know how to manage for her.   When will you be
63 
64        FRIEND BROWN'S EFFRONTERY.
starting, and I'll tell her to be ready?" The cool
effrontery of the man, took us all by surprise, which
was turned into vexation, when my father, after a
moment's reflection, agreed to take charge of the old
woman. He said afterwards, that certainly she was
not the companion he would have chosen, but he did
not think it would be kind to refuse.
This Betty Brown was a little mite of a woman,
always wrapt up in flannels and cloth shawls; so fear
ful lest she should catch cold, that the windows of
her house were never opened, and she would put on
her bonnet when walking from one room to another.
Our plans were all disarranged by the unwelcome
intrusion; we gave up our visit to Lismore and the
Blackwater; and in an old rumbling post-chaise, got
over the ground as fast as we could. Betty, scarcely
spoke at all, she was not sufficiently at her ease to ask
to have both windows shut up, but she drew her multitudinous shawls close around her, and made her wish
intelligible. And as we took no notice of this hint,
she stuffed her handkerchief into her mou,th, to keep
out the breath of heaven on a hot, July day. She
wanted to accompany us to the lodgings we had
ordered to be prepared for us, and said her cousin had
told her "she might have half of my bed." There
was no use in saying anything to her; so my father
ordered the driver to go to Friend Levi's shop, which
was near at hand. He jumped out, and saw Friend
Levi, and told the circumstance, asking him to procure suitable accommodation for Betty, and engaging
I 
MASQUERADE.
to pay for it.  "I'll keep her myself," said hlie, "and
if thee will give me three pounds, I'll engage to send
her back safely too, without annoying thee any more."
It was a cheap riddance, the money was paid on the
spot, and Betty handed out of the chaise. Neither
she nor her cousin Tom, ever offered to repay this
money. She was poor, but he was as rich as he was
mrnean-spirited.
The Meeting was but a small one, only our own
preachers, and but very few parties given. An aunt
of mine had come up to attend the Meeting, in her
own carriage. Whilst my father was attending on
the committees, I was driving about the country with
her, seeing all that was to be seen. Sir Walter
Raleigh's old house, and its beautiful chimney-piece
of carved wood-a perfect gem of its kind-and the
famous myrtle tree.
Soon after this, I attended a Cork Quarterly Meeting. We lodged at the hotel; there was another
Friend's party stoppinlg there also; and, as we had
some previous acquaintance with them, we became
intimate for the time being. Having one day declined
to accompany my father to a tea-party, because I
expected it would be a very stupid affair, and these
other Friends having heard me say so, as soon as he
was gone, they came to my sitting room, and actually
proposed to me to accompany them to a public masquerade ball, which was to take place that night. I
was horrified at the idea of doing such a thing, and
thought they were jesting with me. But they seri       6*
65 
.IASQUERADE.
ously assured me that they had come up from the
country, entirely for the sake of it, and attending the
Meeting was a capital plan to put the old Friends off
from any chance of discovering it, or suspecting
them.
Such expedients as this, are often resorted to by
young Friends, to enable them to partake in the
amusements of the public. I was frequently invited
to join with them, and laughed at heartily for my
scruples: for as I had not the look of a very plain
Friend, they took it for granted I had no principles
to regulate my conduct.
The business of the Cork Meeting was as usual, a
mere routine of that laid down in the Book of Discipline. In the preaching part, which was far below
mediocrity, one Friend told us that "Christ was to be
considered as a principle, not as a person," and no
one objected to the heresy.
I have, from time to time, attended almost every
one of the Irish Meetings. Our own was always the
most interesting.  We saw a good deal of company;
in fact, kept open house for about a week. Our preparations generally commenced about a month beforehand. We were a very large family, and must each,
and all, have new dresses in the first place. Then
the rooms were revivified, and everything showy put
carefully away. Our object was, to have everything
and every one, enveloped in a pleasing, delicate, and
graceful drab. And as flowers are an allowed indulgence, and we had them in vast profusion, the con
66
I 
BORROWING MONEY.
trast was elegant and enlivening.   There was one
minister who regularly came to us at these times.
She was elderly, strikingly plain every way, and rich.
She was an epicurean, and much time, cost, and
thought were given, to have delicate morsels at all
times for her This valuable minister, as they called
her, I ad a habit of borrowing money, not for herself,
but for the use of different persons in whom she was
interested, and she would give her word as security.
My poor dear father was often and heavily victimized.
After eating a luxurious dinner, she would begin to
get very silent; her silence against tea-time came,
would mount up to solemnity. When that, with hot
muffins and plum cake, had been despatched, she
would lay down her knitting, and begin to twirl her
thumbs. Then, significant glances at my father; and
he, dear credulous creature, would desire us all to lay
by our various employments, and drop into silence.
After this had continued about eight or ten minutes,
she would unburthen herself. Generally beginning
with a text of Scripture, such as-" To obey is better
than sacrifice."   She would give a very good lecture
on it for about five minutes. She never could keep
on much longer, though she often tried. Then ano ther long silence, and then she would kick the foot stool on one side-a method of intimating that we
night go about our business.  And, addressing my
father, she would beg him to oblige her with five
minutes' conversation in another room.   Well he
knew, and we all knew, what was coming now.  The
67 
THE SISTERS.
amount she would require him to give was the only
doubtful point. Rather than we should entertain any
disrespectful feeling towards an acknowledged minister of the Society, who professed to be led and guided
in all things by the Spirit of Truth, he would yield
to her demand. Sometimes it was for one hundred
pounds, sometimes fifty; and we, rather than distress
him, would pretend we had no suspicion of her trickery. She borrowed from him upwards of five hundred
pounds in this manner, and never repaid it, or gave
him such guarantees, as would have enabled him to
make a legal demand on her executors, when she died,
leaving a property of nine hundred a year.
There was a testimony issued by the Meeting, as
is generally done for departed ministers, for this
Friend. In it she was represented as an ornament
to the Society, an experienced and devoted minister
of the Gospel of Peace; in short, she was made to
appear as if a concentration of all virtue, faith, and
godliness, had been perfected in her.
Our Quarterly Meeting parties were often very
amusing. I was invited to a large first day dinner,
at which I met, amongst others, five sisters. They
were aged from about twenty-five to seventeen, all
well looking, the youngest quite handsome. They
were all dressed exactly alike, in dark greenish tabinets, muslin kerchief, plaited over the dress, and muslin mob caps. The eldest had been a constant attendant of these Meetings; the four others were now
brought out for the first time. They had been desired,
68 
THE SISTERS.
when leaving home, to behave like Anne, the eldest,
to do whatsoever she did, to copy her.  The dinner
provided for us was at the head of the table-a fine
large loin of roast veal, with force-meats, &c. At the
foot was a cold joint of roast beef. At one side, a
haml; at the other, boiled chickens, and vegetables in
variety.  The sisters ranged themselves according to
their ages, at one side. Friend Tench, the hostess,
addressing one of the younger ones, asked-" Jane,
may I help thee to some roast veal?"  She glanced
at Anne, looked timid, and then said,  "Oh!  I'm
obliged to thee, not yet; I'll wait a bit." Friend
Tench then addressed another-" Susanna, may I
help thee?"   "I'll wait a bit, too, if thee please,"
said Susanna. Friend Tench tried again, " Rebecca,
will thee have some veal?"   "I'll wait a bit, too, if
thee please," said Rebecca. Friend Tench did not
know what to make of it, but she tried again, and
addressed the eldest.  " Anne, what will thee take?"
" I'll take some cold roast beef; I like cold meat on
first days," said Anne. She was helped. And then
again, Jane, and Susanna, and Rebecca, and Martha,
were asked, and each one answered in the same words
as Anne-" I'll take some cold roast beef, if thee
please. I like cold meat on first days." They were
all helped, and presently Anne handed up the plate,
and said, " Will thee give me a little of that nice gravy, and a bit of force-meat?" She got it, and up
came the other plates, one after another, in their regular ages, from the other four, and each saying
69 
THE  SISTERS.
"Will thee give me a little of that nice gravy, and a
bit of force-meat?" It was difficult to maintain due
gravity. In fact, the effort to do so was painful; and
when the second course was placed on the table, and,
" I'll take some rice pudding, if thee please, I'm very
fond of rice pudding," was again echoed, and reechoed by the sisters, there was more than one of the
company obliged to leave the room, not to annoy
Friends by the mal-ah-propos fit of coughing which
seized them.
The sisters left the house soon after dinner, and
were, as usual, commented on immediately after.
" One would think they had no sense," said one
Friend, "repeating every word that Anne said, like
parrots." "Ah! no," said kind and charitable Friend
Tench, "they are young and innocent. They only
showed the simplicity of their minds, by copying
Anne a little too closely."
Not long after, we heard that Rebecca, the simpleminded innocent, had been detected in the act of
eloping with a dragoon soldier, with whom she had
made acquaintance in the streets. Anne had her
immediately conveyed to a very lonely house in the
country, and great pains were taken to keep the affair secret, lest, as the Friends said, it might bring
discredit on the cause of truth.  "Not so," said my
mother, "let it be known; there is no harm done;
it is but the act of a silly, ignorant girl, and perhaps
it may convince some Friends, that the practice they
dwell so much on, of keeping their young people out
10
i 
BEN AND HIS BREECHES POCKET.
of temptation, is a very inefficient one. Give them
principles to resist temptation; for all you can do is
in vain, whilst you neglect to teach them the law of
the Lord."
In our drawing-rooms, the elder women Friends
were always given the upper and best seats; next to
them, sat the younger women and girls, and the men
were crowded near the door. A very plain man or
two, would be allowed to sit among the elder womenthe rest were almost as much apart as on the Meeting's seats. No one seemed ever to think of changing
their chair. Once placed, you had to remain fixed
the whole evening, so that it was a matter of consequence on coming into the room, to select an agreeable, chatty neighbour:or the time being. If you had
not that, the only entertainment was listening to
others. I was often so placed, and yet had my full
share of enjoyment.
There was  one Benjamin, a youth of the very
straitest. His father had taken him away from school,
after the first quarter, because the boy had said you,
instead of thee. The father said, his son had already
grown vicious. So poor Benjamin got no more schooling. He told us that the height of his ambition was
to be door-keeper to the Meeting, and to be allowed
to snuff the candles. Bess Chapman, who knew him
well, had heard him one day regretting that no female
had ever written to him; and to gratify the simple
boy, she wrote him a note, asking him could he tell
her was there a copy of the Life of William Penn in
71 
BEN AND HIi BREECHES POCKET.
the Meeting Library? Ben was delighted; he had
at last a woman's letter.  He boasted of it. He tantalized his brother Dick by showing him the outside.
He looked gloriously happy, and walked more lightly
than ever. He met Bess, and thanked her; and she
said, "Mind and keep it safe, Ben.   It is not every
young man I would write to." Soon after, as Bess
was seated among her own companions, Dick stumbled across the room.  "Well," said he, "I saw thy
letter to Ben." Ben was summoned over. "Ah!
Ben," said she, "I did not expect thee would show
my letter."
" I did not show it to any body," said Ben.
I saw it," said Dick.
" No, thee did not," replied Ben.
"Indeed I did, Bess," said Dick, again.
" How is this, Ben?" said she; "this is a serious
matter, I must know all about it."
Poor Ben was ready to cry. "Don't believe him,"
said he, "he is telling lies."
" I am not telling lies," said the other, "'I read it;
it is about William Penn; now did not I read it?"
Bess put on a grave face. " Tell me, Ben," said
she severely, "has thee left my note carelessly about
for people to read?"
"No," said he, "indeed I did not, I kept it alwvays rammed down into the bottom of my breeches
pocket."
"And when thee was asleep at night, I stole it outt
of thy pocket, and read it," said Dick.
72
I 
HUSBAND AND WIFE.
Both of these sensible youths were shortly after
promoted in the Meeting.
Ignorance is no disqualification for Friends; on the
contrary, when a strong-minded woman is in authority, she likes to have her nominees in the men's
Meeting, sufficiently devoid of learning and natural
intelligence, to be her willing coadjutors.
As our ministers so constantly reminded us, that
we were a more spiritually-minded people than any
others-that our profession was the high and holy
one, of being "at all times led and guided by the
Spirit of Truth"-it was only natural that I should
expect to find something superior in the general
tone of conversation, and attentively listen when
plain Friends were conversing near me.
I was seated between Rebecca Stubbs and Anne
Woods, at a large Quarterly Meeting tea party.
"Anne," said Rebecca, "it is a long time since I met
thee: six or seven years I think. Thee used to attend
our Quarterly Meetings much more frequently. How
is that? I hope thee has not lost thy interest in the
discipline of our Society."
"Oh! no," said Anne, "but I was not married
then. I thought when I was marrying Isaac, that
there would be nobody to prevent me going to all the
Meetings; and indeed, Rebecca, that was a great part
of the reason I married him at all, but he wont let
me go.
"I am surprised to hear thee saying so," replied
Rebecca; "for Isaac is a very consistent Friend; he
7
73 
HUSBAND AND WIFE.
takes rather a prominent part in the discipline himself, and his judgment is considered to be very sound."
"I know that," said the wife, "but for all that, he
is very positive with me. When I told him I wished
to go to any of the Quarterly Meetings, and I even
told him that it was strongly borne in on my mind,
that my concern to go was not altogether of myself:
he said, it was fitter for me to stay at home, and mind
my children. And more than that, Rebecca, he said,
that our Women's Meetings were all humbugs; that it
was only for the sake of getting new bonnets, and new
gowns, and shawls, and good eating, and talking among
ourselves, that we wanted to go at all. He would not
have let me come here now, only that I nursed him
so well during his long illness, that he said he would
not refuse me a little pleasure."
"Thee astonishes me," said Rebecca; "why Anne
dear thee is to be pitied. Thee has a great deal to
bear with."
"Oh!" replied Anne, "I hope thee does not think
I said any thing against my husband. Isaac is very
good and kind to me, I have not any fault at all to
find with him."
As Friends allow of no pastime whatever at these
parties, the only occupation is eating, drinking, and
talking. These were often indulged in to excess. I
have seen the men reeling into the drawing-room,
and heard them boast of having each got through
fourteen tumblers of punch.   I have heard them
taunt a young man, and call him  a "paper skull,"
74
I 
THE RESURRECTION.
because he had refused to drink more than one tumbler of punch. I have seen some of these high professors, indulge in unbounded gormandizing; and in
eating, though happily not in drinking, some of the
women rival the men.
Friends do not approve of talking on religion.
They say it is too solemn a subject to be discussed in
a familiar manner; and especially conversation on
doctrinal points is reprobated. Nevertheless, I sometimes heard opinions expressed, which were charming
from their novelty, if nothing else.
"Susanna," said I, "when a person dies, where
does the spirit go to?"
"To heaven, my dear, of course."
"What appearance will the spirit have?"
" We  do not know, my dear, but it will have
wings."
"Will it bear any resemblance to our forms here
on earth?"
"Oh! dear, no; for flesh and blood cannot inherit
the kingdom of God." 
"Can the spirit of a man be seen at all in heaven?"
"Oh! yes, at least the wings will be seen."
Susanna was an elder, and of course competent to
explain Friends' views. From her I understood that
spirits in heaven were something like butterflies on
earth, flying about in great enjoyment, and having
nothing to do.
"Martha," said I, to another elder, a nice, dear
old woman, of whom I was very fond, "can thee tell
75 
THE RESURPECTION.
me what the Scripture means by the resurrection of
the dead?"
"Certainly, dear; it is, that though our bodies must
die, and be consigned to the dark tomb, our spirits
will live for ever in heaven."
"But, Martha, surely the spirit never dies; it cannot be that; the body dies, but not the spirit. Is it
not so?"
"Ah! my dear, we must not take a carnal view of
the subject. These bodies of ours are worn out on
earth; we shall have prepared bodies given to us; but
it is, when we become quickened by the workings of
the Spirit of Life within us, that we are raised from
the death of sin, and brought into the newness of life."
The doctrine of the resurrection of the dead is not
held by Friends generally. They confound it with
regeneration. They spiritualize away the words of
Scripture, and hold their own mystical interpretation.
I do not allude to Friends' writings, or to the authorized expression of their doctrines. I am merely stating
what they are, as far as my own observation and ex
perlence go.
76 
CURIOUS PREACHIIINGS.
CHAPTER V.
Curious Preachings-Printed Creed-Sermon against shells, corals,
and natural curiosities-Unwillingness of Friends to speak in
Meetings-Guides-Travelling  Friends-Women Preachers' Fa milies-Broad Brims to escape disownment-Poor Committee Provincial Schools-False Accusation.
ONE of our ministers had been appointed to the
office, very much against the judgment of the majority
of the meeting. But she had interest and family connections with several of the elders and overseers, and
so she attained the acme  of her ambition.  Her
preaching was very extraordinary.   She would say,
that she knew very well that her preaching was not
liked; she expected no less; it was only the spirituallyminded who could understand and value a spiritual
ministry. It was not her business to preach such
things as would please the carnal heart-carnal ears
would want carnal words. She was not bound to
please, and she did not want to please, and she would
not pin her faith on any man's sleeve. This Friend
very rarely attempted to quote Scripture, and when
she did, it was often incorrectly. To look at her
speaking, you would think she was in a passion, she
often stamped her foot, and gesticulated violently. I
often tried to make a caricature sketch of her, but
7*
77 
PRINTED CREED.
in vain; no caricature could equal the original grotesque writhings of her form and features.
There was a man also in our Meetings, who, though
he was not an acknowledged minister, was a permitted
one. HIe, too, often gave us very queer sermons; but
they were better than the lady's, for if they did no
good, they could do but little harm, as nobody could
by any possibility understand them. It was not unusual to hear him end thus:-" I don't know whether
you understand me. It is very likely you don't. But
I know myself what I mean."
In consequence of these odd preachings, a report
was spread through the town, that the Quakers were
mere ranters, that they were not Christians. My
father was deeply grieved about it. He spoke to
many of the Friends, but was not satisfied at the indifference they expressed to public opinion. Hle then
consulted with my mother, and the result was that he
drew up a creed of what Friends' belief was, taken
from that published by William Penn, and caused it
to be inserted in each of the newspapers, signed with
his own name, and the names of two others, whom he
prevailed on to sign it.
The day after it had been published, I was walking
with my father, when we met the Dean. He slipped
his arm inside my father's, and said-"' Well, John, I
have been reading your creed this morning. How is
it that none of your preachers have signed it?"  He
replied, that it was not customary for women to sign
public documents.  "But," said the Dean, "when
they perform public acts, and bring discredit on pub
78 
SERMON AGAINST SHELLS.
lie bodies, ought they not publicly to repair the evil
done?  Ah! John, I know very well how it is. That
creed is your creed, not theirs. Good bye. You are
a great deal too good for the people you belong to."
After this, as if to defy public opinion, the same
Martha became  more violent in her declamations,
more absurd in her choice of topics for discourse;
may I not say, more blasphemous in her assumptions
of Divine inspiration. And yet, there we sat, Sabbath after Sabbath, year after year, silently listening
to these atrocious outpourings of a self-righteous and
very conceited fanatic. Upwards of three hundred
sensible men and women, solemnly respectful hearers
of the rankest nonsense.
In our Women's Monthly Meetings, she was even
worse, if possible. The minutest trifle in which she
knew of any one disagreeing with her opinion, immediately became the subject of invective. Even her
own sisters were not spared. One of them had a
taste for collecting shells, spars, minerals, and corals;
and one day she placed some choice specimens on the
chimney-piece of their common sitting-room. Martha
saw, but said nothing to her sister at the time. She
gathered up, and nursed her wrath until the next
Monthly Meeting, and then poured it out. I fancy
I can see her now, as she stood on her elevated plat form, her bonnet poking at least six inches over her
face, her bosom tightly braced in a dark drab skinny
shawl. Her long arms, swaying round and round in
her excitement, and occasionally a stamp of the angry
79 
SERMON AGAINST SHELLS.
foot. And when, by her very vehemence, her breathing failed, she would stop a moment, knit her brows,
and drawing her thin lips apart, clench her large black
teeth. And what was the subject of this invective?
"That people professing the high character of spirituality which belonged to the Society of Friends;
that thle descendants of those worthy predecessors to
whom it was given nobly and boldly to testify against
the vanities and corruptions of the world; that such
highly favoured ones, should blindly fall into the snare
of the devil; that the shining of the light within should
be so neglected and disregarded; that occasion should
be given to the adversary to reproach the true seed,
by the specious notion, that it was no harm to indulge
a taste for the beauties of nature, by collecting spars,
and shells, and corals. Oh! it was a specious device of
the arch enemy: first, they are looked at and admired;
then they are bought, and the eye gratified with their
shining colours. And Satan wont stop there. Oh!
no; then they are put on the chimney-piece, and the
attention is distracted from its holy meditations; then
the enemy triumphs, and the soul is lost-lost forever." She assured us that it was entirely without
her own will that she spoke thus; but that the call
was so decided, that she dare not be unfaithful, or
peril her own peace by keeping silence.
The preachers of the Society-all of them, men and
women, the very best of them-are constantly in the
habit of saying, that it is against their own will that
they stand up to speak in Meetings; that it is very
80
I 
GUIDES.
painful to them to have to address their Friends.
And that they are compelled to speak, by the fear of
the light which is in them being withdrawn, if they
sit quiet. They say, "they have been made willing
to give up to the requirings of truth." In fact, they
give their hearers to understand, that they consider
they have conferred a compliment on the Almighty,
in consenting to do his work. Instead of being, as
good and faithful servants, glad of an opportunity of
service, they tell us they perform it unwillingly, and
as a distasteful task. How strange! Can it be, that
any appointed minister, who has himself drank of the
cup of salvation, and who knows the only way which
God has revealed to man, whereby atonement for sinners may be made-can such a one, see souls perishing for lack of that knowledge, and feel it irksome to
instruct them? Impossible. The true minister of the
Gospel delights in his calling; it is his meat and drink
to do his Master's work, and to bring sinners to the
knowledge of salvation by the blood of the Lord Jesus
Christ. 
It is customary to draw out a list of the names of
all the young men belonging to each Meeting. They
are then expected, in rotation, to act as guides to
Friends travelling in the ministry; and if these ministers wish it, (as with a few honourable exceptions,
they always do,) to pay their travelling expenses for
them.
The guide thus acts as courier, and the ministers
are raised in general estimation by this deferential
81 
TRAVELLING FRIENDS.
attention. Some of the young men do not at all like
the office imposed upon them. Others, candidates for
office, deem it an honour. An acquaintance of mine
had repeatedly tried to evade the disagreeable duty,
but in vain; at last he resolved to play them a trick,
and did so. The minister and his attendant friend,
an elder; they always travel in couples, something on
the same plan as the Jesuits, who appoint one of their
body to be a guardian angel to their novices, in reality
to watch that no cause of scandal shall arise to the
Society. These Friends travelled in a very snug close
carriage, which only held two. The guide was expected to ride his own horse beside them, a distance
of twenty miles, the weather cold and wet. lie contrived that both his own horse and theirs, should begin
to flag on the road as they approached any town or
village; then he kept them shivering in the cold for
a time sufficiently long to make them unwilling to
refuse the glasses of good strong punch he presented
to them. And against the journey was ended, he had
them both in a state of uproarious hilarity, which
startled the sober quiet family who had been all day
expecting them. The guide hurried away; and, as
he anticipated, was never again asked to act as courier
to travelling Ministers.
When a minister inclines to travel, he, or I should
say, she-for there were then only two men ministers
in all Ireland, and a host of women-is expected to
announce their intention on the First Day Morning
Meeting. When the Friends have shaken hands, the
82 
TRAVELLING FRIENDS.
way they always break up Meeting, the Clerk calls
out, "Members are requested to keep their seats."
All who are not Members must walk away. Then
the minister rises, and lays her concern before the
Meeting; and hopes her Friends will express their
feelings on the subject, as though she is made willing
to surrender herself to the service required, she is
also willing to leave the matter to the decision of her
Friends. Then, one after another, the plain Friends
will rise, and say, they "feel unity with the dear
Friend in her prospect of service;" or, they "hope
their dear Friend will be strengthened to perform the
arduous undertaking she has laid before them." This
is the usual routine. On one occasion in our Meeting, a man Friend rose after these customary speeches
had been made, and said, " I think it would be satisfactory, if our Friend would inform us what the duty is
to which she considers herself called?" She rose,
and somewhat haughtily, replied, " She wished to obtain a certificate from the Monthly Meeting to enable
her to visit the families of Friends residing within the
compass of the Dublin Monthly Meeting, and also
some other parts of the Leinster province." The
same Friend, again asked, "Will our Friend inform
us, is it her design to visit Friends' families generally
through the province of Leinster, or only the Meetings?" She was very much annoyed at these questions, and replied, " She hoped Friends would leave
her at liberty to follow the leadings of conscience."
Another then stood up, and addressing the questioner,
83 
84        WOMEN PREACHERS' FAMILIES.
began-" Take off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the
place whereon thou standest is holy ground."  Another said, "When Ephraim spake trembling, he exalted himself; but when he offended in Baal, he died."
Of course nobody else volunteered to question or
gainsay the Friend's proposal, for it is not pleasant
to get even a pious rebuff in so public a manner.
This was the only occasion on which I heard the
slightest demur made at granting the required certificate; but my mother told me, that in another Meeting a woman, one first day, laid before the Meeting,
her "concern to perform the arduous undertaking of
visiting Meetings in England, and sitting with families as often, and wherever, truth  might open the
way."  Immediately as she resumed her seat in the
gallery, her husband far down in the Meeting, an
honest, quiet, sensible looking man, rose up and said
-" He hoped Friends would not encourage his wife
in the plan she had taken into her head of travelling
in England. That she was acting in opposition to his
known wishes. That it was an unnatural thing of her
to leave her baby, three months old, and five small
children, to go pleasuring for two years in England,
the time she intended to absent herself from her family
duties; and that he did not believe the Almighty would
approve of her so doing." When he resumed his seat,
one after another of the Friends spoke on the subject;
one and all expressing deep sympathy with their much
tried Friend in her painful situation; hoping she might
be strengthened from above, to yield herself to the 
WOMEN PREACHERS' FAMILIES.
requirings of duty; and assuring her, that it was given
to them to say, she would be favoured with the incomings of peace; and that her devotedness to the
service required of her, was a proof that the Society
was still a highly favoured one. She got her certificate, a clear one, without any mention of her husband's dissent from it. She travelled about in England
for more than two years, and was thought a greal deal
of there.  She entirely neglected her husband and
family; but with our ministers, these minor duties are
always subordinate to the public practices of their
calling.
It is a very extraordinary fact, that so many of the
preachers neglect their families, that the wildest and
I believe I might say, the most notoriously irreligious
young men in the Society, are the sons of preaching
women.
The most scandalous deeds I have ever heard of
among Friends, or among any people-immorality in
its most hideous forms, licentiousness, and dishonourable conduct-are in ministers' families; and provided
public attention is not awakened to them, the sin is
covered, and the sinner walks erect among his people.
But if the offence become known, then indeed the
offender is disowned by the Society, unless there is
wealth and interest among the high Friends to assist
the guilty in escaping. I have known more than one
instance where the delinquent did not wish to be disowned, and to avoid it, put on a plainer garb, and a
broader brim than ever; and thus, backed by his
8
85 
POOR COMMITTEE.
mother's influence, not only escaped censure, but
actually rose very high in the estimation of our worthies.
The only office my mother could be prevailed on to
accept in our Meeting, was that of being on the Committee for the poor. A small subscription was made
at each Monthly Meeting, for the support of the few
poor Friends who belonged to us. Adjoining our
Meeting-house, was the Friends' poor-house, in which
five women had each a good room, comfortably furnished; they were allowed a small supply of coals
and candles, and three pence half-penny a day, to
find themselves in food.   Clothing was generally
given by one or another of the Friends, independent
of the allowance from the Meeting Fund. I often accompanied my mother in her visits to these poor women, and often went of messages from her to them.
They complained sadly of the small pittance. And at
last, my mother resolved to speak on their behalf in
the Meeting. It was the only time I ever heard her
speak there; and then she just said, she hoped the
allowance would be raised to sixpence, as it was not
creditable to the Meeting, or right, she thought, that
the very few poor they had to maintain, should have
their wants so badly supplied. When she resumed
her seat, about half a dozen rose, one after anotherfine, fat, well-fed women-to object to any increase.
One said, she "had already calculated, and was quite
satisfied the allowance made was ample." Another,
that "she would not object, but that it would be a
86 
POOR COMMITTEE.
precedent, which it might not suit the Meeting to follow at all times."  And one saucy creature, who has
since joined the White Quakers, said-" I feel called
on to say, to the Friend who has thought fit to make
this strange proposal-go thou, and sweep before thy
own door, but meddle not with those hallowed things
which thou understandest not." The poor women
were present during this scene; and on our next visit,
expressed great regret at having asked her interference, as it had subjected her to insult on their behalf.
They were all very grateful to her, she gave them
liberty to come walk in our shrubberies whenever they
pleased; they often availed themselves of the permission, and returned home, laden with meat, tea, eggs,
and such like comforts.
I never knew or heard of a poor man Friend. As
poverty generally results from some imprudence, I
think the burden is got rid of, by testifying against
that imprudence, and disowning the individual. Seve ral cases occurred to my knowledge, which we, who
ventured to think and speak too, thought very sus picious.  Certainly, the circumstances under which
they were disowned, were far more the result of
chance, or the conduct of others, than any sinful de signs on their own part; and were but trifles light as
air, in comparison of the deeds of others who still
hold the first places.
The committee for examining into the management
of the Provincial Schools, is held at the time of the
Quarterly Meeting; and in that Meeting, a dozen or
s i 
PROVINCIAL SCHOOLS.
more Friends are appointed to examine the children
in their studies, as well as to see to the general arrangement of the establishment.
On one of these occasions, my sister was appointed,
and went with the others. A class of about ten girls
was given her. The examination of their advancement in secular learning was quite satisfactory to her.
Then she asked them questions on religion. They
could repeat the words of their catechism, but were
ignorant of the meaning. She tried them with the
simplest questions, such as she was in the habit of
putting to the children at the Infant School, but in
vain; they knew nothing.  At last she said, "Well,
let me hear you repeat the Lord's Prayer." One
only out of the ten could do it, and she had only been
one month at the school.  As she said herself, "she
had not had time to forget it."  My sister then tried
had they been well instructed in the history of Quakerism, and asked them who was the first Friend? They
all replied together, " Our Master." It is customary
when the examination is ended, for all the Xisitors to
sign a paper for the next Meeting, stating how they
found the school affairs, and that they were satisfied,
at the instruction given. My sister refused to sign
it, because she was not satisfied at all, that the most
important part of all education-religion, had been
so neglected. The others urged and entreated her to
sign it, and said, such a thing was never known as for
any one to object to the mrnanagemlent in all points of
the very consistent Friends who had the care of the
88
I 
FALSE ACCU,SATION.
school.  It was in vain, she would not sign it for them.
So that in the report for the Meeting, they were
obliged to leave out the word unanimous, which was
always hitherto inserted.
There is a catechism published for the use of these
schools, which has been approved of by the Society.
It is the production of Richard Allen, a minister; and
in it I find this question and answer, embodied in
many words-" Is the sacrifice of our Lord on the
cross, sufficient to insure our acceptance with God?"
Answer, "No."   Such is the teaching given at Provincial Schools.  No wonder the pupils so often turn
out as they do. No wonder that the Leinster Provincial School, where the vilest sin was practiced, was
at last obliged to be given up, and its hypocritical
master obliged to fly the country. No wonder that
the scores of young Friends educated there should
prove irreligious; and, as some of them to my own
knowledge, are infidels.
One morning, we were greatly startled and annoyed,
by two constables coming to our house with awarrant
to arrest my brother, on a charge which had been
sworn against him, of shooting at a woman with intent
to kill. WTe were seated at the breakfast table, when
the men came in, and very civilly, though firmly,
told their business.  " George," said my father, "how
is this?  Explain it."   "Father," he replied,  "I
cannot explain it, for I know nothing about it." They
went together to the magistrate, who, knowing our
family so well, consented at last to take a very large
89 
FALSE ACCUSATION.
bail.  My brother was in the habit of riding to his
farm every morning, and returning late in the evening. He had a large dairy, and had sold the produce
of it to Anty Keene, a farmer's daughter, who again
retailed it in the town. This Anty Keene had been
some twenty pounds in my brother's debt, and he refused to give her further credit, and was about contracting with another woman, who was a rival in the
trade with Anty. Oh! how anxiously we waited for
the day when the trial should come on. George was
the only one of the family who looked calm or happy,
his spirits never failed him. Anty Keene swore, that
on a certain evening, Mr. George had been riding home
from his farm; that he was dressed in a large white
over-coat, and mounted on a black mare with a long
tail; that a little terrier dog ran beside him; that
when he came to the old turnpike gate, he overtook
her; that he rode beside her for some distance, demanding his money; that she begged and prayed him
to allow her time, and that she would pay him  all
fairly; that he got into a passion, and said,, he would
shoot her on the spot if she did not pay him at once;
that she became frightened, and ran away, and that
then he fired at her with a pistol which he drew from
his breast, and that the shots had gone through the
hood of the blue cloth cloak she wore. She produced
the cloak with six holes, which were very like shot
holes. She had one witness, a man, who swore that
he was on the road at the time, and hearing the gentleman talking angrily, he had hid himself in the
90 
FALSE ACCUSATION.
ditch, to listen and watch. He also swore to the horse
and the coat, and the dog, and the pistols; and that
he saw the shot fired, and the gentleman then put
spurs to his horse, and galloped away; and he then
ran up to the poor frightened woman, and saw the
holes made by the shots quite close to her forehead.
This was the charge, and unless he could clear himself of it, the punishment was transportation for life.
He confessed that it was true he had been on the road
at the time stated; the horse, the coat, the dog-all
that was true; he had a brace of pistols in his breastpocket, but all the rest he denied; he had seen a
woman on the road, but he did not speak to her, or
know who it was. He had no witness to call; he acknowledged having refused to give Anty further
credit; and also, that he had said she would be sorry
for her dishonesty, by which he meant, that her rival
would get the town business. The general impression on hearing all that could be said on both sides,
was, that George was guilty. Many of the gentlemen present, went over to my father, when the first
day's investigation was over, and expressed great
feeling for him. He thanked them, but said-" I am
happy in the belief that my son is innocent of the
crime laid to his charge." They did not think so.
The lawyers said it was a bad business, and advised
George to compromise it with Anty; who they had
private reasons to know, would accept of fifty pounds,
and drop the prosecution. He indignantly refused.
That night few of us could sleep; the sworn evidence
91.
I 
FALSE ACCUSATION.
against our darling brother was so strong, so incontrovertible. My father did not tell us so, but we all
knew that he spent the night in prayer. It was an
agonizing thought, that his own dear son, than whom,
a more kind, gentle, generous and upright man, never
lived, should be transported like a felon. He cast his
care upon his God, and found Him strong to save.
On cross-questioning the man witness, at the final
hearing, he was observed to tremble violently; and
then, most unexpectedly, he declared, that what he
and Anty had sworn to, was all false; that she had
burnt the holes in her cloak with a knitting needle,
while he was standing by her; that she gave him ten
shillings to be her false witness; that he and she were
on the road together, and saw Mr. George pass by,
but had not spoken to him at all; but on that night
they planned the accusation to revenge Anty about
the dairy. When asked, why he now confessed the
truth? he said, "the devil had come to him in the
night, and said,'Ah! I have you now-you have perjured your soul-come off-I have a fine hot hell
ready for you.' And that he was so much frightened,
he could not help telling, as if others knew it, it would
not feel so heavy on himself."
My brother was acquitted and Anty, prosecuted by
the crown for perjury, was imprisoned for two years.
And when that was over, her relations sent her to
America; they were ashamed, they said, to hold up
their heads while she was in the country.
92
I 
FRIEND FLANNIL.
CHAPTER VI.
Friend Flannil, the American Minister-Funeral Sermon at the
Grave-Sudden Death-Gresham's Hotel-Escape from a Knave
-Family Visit-Dress-Visits from the Overseers about Drawing
-French-Similarity of Popery and Quakerism.
IN October, 1827, we were sitting one evening
around the fire, when two young men of our Meeting
walked in.  They came to ask could we accommodate
the American Friend, James Flannil, and his traveling companion, an English minister, with bed and
board for a week or two, as they proposed not only to
attend the Quarterly Meeting, but also to visit families. Ours was not the usual house for travelling
Friends to come to. We were not plain enough to
have that honour in general, at least, not while an
other house where the fare was equally good, and the
dress of the family more consistent, was to be had.
On the present occasion, something had occurred to
render Friend Flannil's visit inconvenient to others,
and a deputation had been sent to try what could be
done at our house. My father immediately agreed to
receive both the Friends; we were quite delighted, and
promised to look sober and plain. The necessary
preparations were made; a double bedded room was
got ready; an abundant marketing sent home, and a
93 
FRIEND FLANNIL.
plentiful supply of pastries, jellies, and all such creature comforts laid in. We had several other Friends
on a visit with us, and several had come to spend the
day with us, when about three o'clock on seventh day,
we saw a post chaise drive up the lawn. We all ran to
the windows, exclaiming-' I Here comes the American."  "Oh! no," said one, "it cannot be, the chaise
is empty; look, the windows are all blinded." So it
was, all shut up-the glass panes down and the blinds
up; yet it drove to the door; the steps were let down,
and out crawled an enormously large man. He was
followed by a nice looking little elderly Friend with
a black velvet cap on the top of his head. And after
him, stepped out a slight young man, the guide from
Youghal Meeting, who merely saw the other two safe
into the house, and then stepped back into the chaise,
opened the windows, and drove off.
I must describe Friend Flannil. He was six feet
four inches high, large boned, and coarse looking in
the extreme. A great shapeless white cloth coat,
lined with light green, covered him  all 9ver.  His
feet were enveloped in huge moccason boots, and his
countenance was indicative, in a remarkable manner,
of crossness and discontent.  Ilis companion, Isaac
Haldwell, was a plain Friend, and a preacher also;
a most gentlemanly looking person, and prepossessed
us very much by the quiet smile of drollery, with
which he watched the impression made on us by the
uncouth figure of the American. When the baggage
was settled, and Friends seated in the parlour, Friend
94
I 
FRIEND FLANNIL.
Haldwell remarked, how pleasant it was to look about
him. He walked to the window, and seemed so uncommonly pleased at gazing on the faded glories of
October in the country, that we asked him how it
happened, he had arrived with closed blinds. "Why,"
said he, "that is the very reason I enjoy every thing
so much now. It was not very pleasant travelling so
far in the dark; and through Lismore, too, that I
wished so much to see, and the Blackwater-I was
really vexed; but"-'-and he looked round with a comical smile-"he would not let the glasses be up."
Somebody in Cork unfortunately asked him, how he
liked Ireland? to which he replied, "I did not come
from America to see the country." The same question was put to him in Youghal, very naturally, by
another Friend. It made him angry, and he said,
"he did not look at the country, nor he would not
look at it; it was not worth looking at, for the trees
were no bigger than American bushes; and he did
not like to see so many houses, and no woods."
Therefore he had compelled his two unfortunate fellow-travellers to drive all that long way without a
glimpse of light. Friend Haldwell whispered-" He
does many queer things; but he is a great minister,
and we must overlook his little peculiarities."
A smothered laugh induced the speakers to look
round. Friend Flannil had drawn his chair close to
the fire; he had taken off his moccasons, and the view
of his very tattered dirty stockings, accounted for the
laugh. We all became silent, watching what he was
95
valid,,
i t 
FRIEND FLANNIL.
going to do. The trowsers were drawn up to the
knees, (there were several ladies in the room, our
usual Quarterly Meeting guests,) a curious garter,
made of the bark of a tree and twine, was thrown
down on the rug, and the stockings deliberately taken
off, exhibiting to our wondering eyes, two of the very
dirtiest and biggest feet I had ever beheld. Friend
Flannil, perfectly regardless of the presence of any
one, held up his feet alternately to the fire, warming
and rubbing them, and grumbling that the fire was
not good, because it was made of coal, instead of wood,
as he said it ought to be. When the feet were warmed
and rubbed enough, he began to look about him, and
to talk.  "Do you call this living in the country?
I am sure I don't."  Then to my father-" Art thou
married?  Are these all thy children?"   "Oh! no,"
he replied; (some of the company were as old, and
older than himself;)  "these young ones here are
mine."   "Eugh," said Friend Flannil, "they are
very puny. I have three sons, and the lowest of them
is six feet three; I guess thou can't match'that." An
irrepressible laugh ran round the room, and poor
papa looked miserable, fearing the stranger would be
offended; but Friend Haldwell whispered, "Do not
be uneasy; he will never imagine it possible any one
would laugh at him."
Dinner being announced, a considerable delay took
place putting on the old stockings, &c., &c. He was
invited to go into another room to wash his hands;
but positively refused. "What shall we do with him?"'
96 
FRIEND FLANNIL.
asked my mother of Friend Haldwell. " Really," said
he, " I do not know; but do what thou wilt, he never
thinks of taking offence." She then ordered a basin
of water, &c. into the room before us all, and said
to him-" Dinner is waiting, and thy hands must be
washed-pray be quick."   "Eugh," said he, "how
mighty particular thou art."  However, the ablutions
were performed in a kind of way, and then he was
requested to walk into the dining room. He sat still,
and looked about, and seeing the butler standing at
the door, he called out-" Here, thee! man, bring in
the dinner then, can't thee, if it is ready." With a
great deal of difficulty he was induced to go into the
dining-room, which at last he did, by running past
every one. He was placed at my mother's left hand
at table, and the rest of us, twenty-two in number,
took our places. Scarce were we seated, when Friend
Flannil's tall, awkward form rose; he grasped the
salt cellar, stretched it half way down the table, and
threw it all about.  He said, "I hate them buckets of
salt. Mother, never put one near me again' mind,
I hate salt." He occasionally used his knife and fork,
but much more frequently, his fingers. He called for
coffee, which not being ready, he said, "Go, get it;
I'll wait for it;" and he went over to the fire until it
was prepared. Then he came back to his seat, and
ate fish in his fingers, and drank coffee, scolding, and
growling incessantly, and ordering "the Mother" to
go get him one thing or another.
After dinner, Jane Dalton came in, to pay her re       9
9T 
FRIEND FLANNIL.
spects to the American Friend, and to invite him to
dine with her mother on first day. She approached
him almost with reverence, as a superior being. She
said, "My mother, Mary Dalton-thou hast probably heard her name-sent me to see thee, and to invite thee to dine with us to-morrow, between Meetings. She would wish to become acquainted with
thee." "Eugh," said Friend Flannil. "I don't know
her, or thee either; nor I don't want to know her;
and thee may go back, and tell her that; and I'll
not go dine with her; I'll stay with'the Mother.'
Thee may go." Poor Jane!-such a rebuff-from
the American Friend too,-so many present-the ill
concealed laughter-the gaping, grinning servantsmy father's look of agony; for he was pained to the
heart, to see " an inspired minister" so rude to a female. It was a most amusing scene; and was ended
by my mother most peremptorily desiring Friend
Flannil to speak politely; that Friends in Ireland
must be treated courteously. He tried to run out of
the room; but she insisted that he should sit down,
and listen to her.  She told him it was very kind
of Jane to ask him, and that he must accept her invitation.  "Well,"  said he, "I will, if thou bids
me.
The evening wore away; he called for meat at tea,
and ate slice after slice of cold roast beef in his fingers, as another person would bread and butter; and
when going to bed, said he must have something to
eat in the night. He ordered the parlour fire to be
98
r — 
FRIEND FLANNIL.
kept lighted, and a tray with bread and cLeese, and
porter, to be left for him. After laughing more than
we ever laughed in one day before, we all retired.
About three o'clock in the morning, the whole house
was alarmed. We started up in our beds, and listened; furniture seemed thrown about, and at last
screams were heard from the servants' rooms. My
father took a light, and went down stairs, agitated
and anxious. The cause of the disturbance was soon
discovered. Friend Flannil unclad, had gone from
his room in quest of the bread and cheese; he had
lost his way in the dark, and wandered into the servant maids' apartment. They were frightened at the
great tall white form. It was a moonlight night.
They never imagined who it was, but thought it was a
ghost, and screamed with terror. He, finding his
mistake, threw down a chair in his hurry to be off,
and then rushed into another room, rousing the
sleepers there too, and then down another stairs,
throwing about candlesticks, and every thing he happened to meet with. With difficulty he was got back
to his bed, and we finished our sleep.
The following morning Friend Haldwell looked
pale, and worn, and wan, and confessed to having had
a wretched night. Friend Flannil had disturbed him
so often, that he said, "he was quite tired of the duty
he had undertaken."
The American disdained to use a spoon eating eggs;
and altogether his manners were so revolting, that it
was unanimously determined henceforth he should
99 
FRIEND FLANNIL.
take his meals at a table by himself, my mother persuading him that it was her Irish manner of especially
honouring an American guest.
We all went to Meeting, and there Friend Flannil
astonished all the assembly with his sermon. After
the usual long pause of a Friends' Meeting, his huge
gaunt form was seen to rise in the gallery, and to
shake itself. Then the queer hat was taken off, and
laid on the ground, the coat unbuttoned, and he began
in a voice loud and gruff.  "There was once an old
horse, and he had a sore leg." This strange text
drew all eyes on the man. He enlarged for nearly
an hour on it, with great volubility; described the
appearances as only one could have done who had
witnessed the symptoms and treatment of veterinary
disease; and drew a kind of moral from it; that we
were all as diseased as the old horse, as disgusting as
the horrid picture he had drawn, and that Quakerism was the only cure. Of course many comments
were made on such a sermon as this, although
Friends are often told it is very wrong to' make any
remark on addresses which are considered to proceed
from "immediate inspiration;" but this induced many
to disregard the general rule.  One said, "it was a
wonderfully deep discourse."  Another, "that it contained a deal of hidden meaning."  Another, " that
we must be as far advanced ourselves in Christian
experience to be able to understand it." Another,
' that it was scandalous to hear such language in a
place of worship." And another, "for my part, I
100 
FRIEND FLANNIL.
think the man is mad." I believe very many agreed
in this last opinion, but were timid of saying so.
After Meeting, he went to dine with Mary Dalton;
and we had a very large company dining with us, and
were amusing ourselves talking of, and laughing at
the strange American minister. Whilst we were in
the middle of dinner, however, in walked Flannil,
with great coat and hat on. We asked him, "was
any thing the matter, that he had left Mary Dalton's
so soon?"  He said, "Yes; I don't like her, she is
so fat, and her house has a wall opposite to it, and I
like to see something green." We asked had he dined?
"Yes; I eat a bit, and then I came away."   " Did
Mary Dalton know he was going away?"  "No;  she
looked so fat, I only said I was going out for a minute."  " But that was rude." " Well, I don't care."
Presently after, came a young man up the lawn,
looking after him. He told us that Flannil had
snatched the leg of a turkey up in his fingers, and
gobbled it up, before any one at the table was helped,
and then ran out of the house, actually frightening
the good Friends.
The next day at dinner we had another scene. He
was, as usual, placed at a small side table, by himself, but near my mother. We were all eating, and
enjoying ourselves, when suddenly he exclaimed in a
loud unearthly voice, that made the knives and forks
drop out of our hands-" Something is going to happen." Poor mamma turned pale; the servants stood
aghast, and wonder sat on each countenance. We
9*
101
rt' 
FRIEND FLANNIL.
asked-'" What, what is the matter?"  He slowly replied-" Something dreadful-oh! dreadful!" After
what seemed a long time of painful suspense, he said,
" I feel all down my leg and foot, like pins and needles pricking me." " Oh!" said one of my brothers,
"the man's foot is asleep-that's all."  And such a
fit of laughter followed, as was, I am very sure, never before heard at a Quarterly Meeting dinner party;
even poor papa laughed in spite of himself, and never
from that day out, even tried to persuade us to respect this man, who was sent from America with the
sanction and approval, by letters and epistles, of
three Yearly Meetings there, to preach in this country
as an inspired minister of the Christian religionwho was forwarded to Ireland from England, with
the full approbation of the English Meetings; and
again sent from Dublin down to the South, as something far more holy than common.
In the evenings he would lie on the sofa, full length,
and scold any one who came near him; calling old
ladies, " child," bidding them "get away "-" young
woman, thy breath is not sweet," to one; and when
tea was handed round, he addressed one nice English
Friend with-" Here thee, go get me some meat."
She went, and brought him some slices of cold meat.
He turned them over and over again, with his fingers,
dashed his tea awkwardly over her nice silk dress,
and then scolded her heartily, and greased her with
his hands in the most outrageously rude manner.
And yet the plain Friends, many of whom were pre
102 
FRIEND FLANNIL.
sent still looked on him as a holy man, and coveted
a word, even a cross word, from him. It would weary
to tell all his extravagancies, his dirtiness, his profanation of religion; yet to this man, and the conversations relative to him, I am deeply indebted; for it
was these scenes that first opened my eyes to the false
pretentions of Quakerism. It was seeing such a man
honored-a man who seemed not to possess one redeeming trait of virtue or amiability-who was entirely ignorant of the Scriptures-who was as ignorant
as he was selfish, and as selfish as he was knavish and
cunning; it was seeing such a disgrace to the name
of Christianity honored, and almost reverenced, by
the whole body of Friends in America, England, and
Ireland; it was seeing this, that first inclined me to
think it possible that Friends might be in error, and
conviction that they were mistaken in one point,
gradually opened the way to look at others, until at
length, and not without thought, and prayer, and research, and years of careful study, I am now clearly
of opinion, that Quakerism is not what it professes to
be-a pure form of Christianity; but a deep and subtle
delusion; where some truth is mixed up with great
error-where the most soul-deluding doctrines are
clothed in the garment of superior sanctity-where
imagination is substituted for inspiration-where
spiritual pride assumes the form of mock humility,
and external forms take the place of dedication of
heart-where the ignorant and the hypocritical take
the lead, and where the substance, the life of religion
103 
FRIEND FLANNIL.
-faith in the blood of Jesus Christ, is never mentioned; at least I can say, after being for forty years a
Quakeress, and hearing all the best preachers the Society produces, I never heard in Meetings, either for
worship or discipline, "that salvation was to be obtained only through that precious blood."
At my father's suggestion, Friend Flannil was sent
back to his congenial woods, without finishing his intended visitings; but not before one of our wealthy
spinsters had testified against such an unusual quenching of the Spirit, by settling on him an annuity of
fifty pounds per annum.
Friend Flannil's text was indeed a very extraordinary one; but quite as strange as his, have been the
texts chosen by some of our own countrymen. Dublin
Meeting once beheld a venerable patriarchal old man,
whose white shining locks fell on his shoulders, rise in
the preachers' gallery, and thus commence:  "Good
morrow morning, my fine, first day morning gallery
bucks; what brings you here to-day? A light heart
and a thin pair of breeches, will carry you through,
my brave boys."
And another time, a tall portly man, in the same
place, after slowly rising, and slowly taking off his
broad brim, and slowly laying it down on the ground
beside him, in the same slow way took off his great
coat, folded it up, and laying it down beside the hat,
addressed them thus: "Oh! my dear friends, I have
a great concern on my mind, that you should take off
your sins, and lay them down, as I have done my hat
and coat."
104 
FUNERAL.
One of our preachers having died, we, as usual,
attended the funeral. Friends' funerals in Ireland
are conducted with great quietness and solemnitymuch more so, I think, than in England.   On this
occasion, the day after we heard of the Friend's death,
as she was one for whom we all felt much respect, we
went to the house, and sat in silence with the bereaved
family for about half an hour. Then we were invited
up stairs to see the pallid form. One of her daughters told us of her affection and uprightness, and of
her great goodness and kindliness to the poor people
in her neighborhood, and that she had always some
work for them on her hands. But she did not tell,
that which I was greatly wishing to know, whether
she died in a happy assurance of pardon, and with the
blessed hope of life everlasting. Friends always take
it for granted, that a plain Friend when he dies, goes
straight to heaven. I have known many cases, in
which there was cause for great fear and anxiety;
but I never heard of a doubt being expressed, either
to the dying or to the survivors. This was certainly
a good woman; her short sermons were always scriptural. At her funeral, round the grave, there were
many speeches. A large crowd of persons were there.
One of those speeches, or sermons, arrested my attention and surprised others not a little. It was Betsey
Beater spoke. She eulogized the departed; and said,
"that she had honored her Christian name; that she
had always been such a consistent Friend; that she
had never indulged her daughters in the vain fashions
105
.s
l 
SUDDEN DEATH.
of the world-no; she had never even allowed them to
wear silk gowns."
Very soon after this, there was an awfully sudden
death in my own family. An aunt had remained up
later than usual one night, regulating her house,
and then retired apparently in good health; a couple
of hours after, she was found dead in her bed. Oh!
how I longed to know had she gone to heaven; but
it was vain to ask. She was a very consistent Friend;
that satisfied every one but myself. Many, many
years after, I accidentally heard of her having been
a constant reader of the Bible.
My father had some idea of making one of his sons
a manufacturer; and before deciding on it, he wrote
to some Friends in the north of Ireland to make inquiries. One Friend, who bore a very high character
in the Society, amongst others, wrote to him, offering
to take the lad as an apprentice, on payment of a fee
of ~500.   Instead of  answeriug that letter, my
father resolved to go himself to the North: and to my
great delight, proposed to make me the companion of
his journey. We accordingly set off by the coach,
which we had inside all to ourselves, to Dublin. We
stopped at Gresham's Hotel for two or three days,
attended the Dublin Monthly Meeting, which was
nothing but routine business; and by very urgent entreaty, we accompanied a Friend to his house to
dinner, that day. He was a very rich man, and had
both a town and country house. He had often been
feasted at our home, and now he sat us down with a
106 
GRESHAM'S HOTEL.
large company, to eat potatoes and cabbage, and fried
liver, and nothing else. This was the only bad dinner I ever met with in an Irish Friend's house; therefore I commemorated it. We took an early leave of
the party, and hurried to our hotel, where we comforted ourselves with a cup of tea and a mutton chop;
and took good care to accept of no more pressing invitations during our stay.
My father always put up at Gresham's Hotel; not
only because of its being the best, or one of the best,
hotels in Dublin, but because of the exceeding kindness which its master had shown him on the occasion
of King George IV.'s visit to Ireland. My father
had been one of the Friends appointed to wait on the
King, and to present him with a congratulatory address
from the Society. A day was fixed for the reception,
and afterwards it was postponed for a week. To pass
that period, my father and sister, who accompanied
him, planned a visit to Lisburn. They set off in one
of the northern coaches, drawn by three horses; and
when about half the journey was completed, an opposition coach overtook them, and a race commenced,
which terminated in the upset of the one in which my
father was. It was a dreadful accident; every one on,
and in the coach were more or less hurt. My sister's
face was sadly cut by the glass; but she was the least
hurt of the party.   My father's head was cut and
bruised, so that he was thought dead for a long time.
The outside passengers had some a leg, others an arm
broken. A gentleman who lived near, most kindly
107 
GRESHIAM'S HOTEL.
opened his house for the sufferers. There they had
soon the best medical attendance that could be procured, and every domestic care. As soon as he was
at all able to move, my father retraced his way in a
post-chaise to Dublin. He drove to the Gresham, and
was told that the house was full; then to the Biltonthe same answer met him there. From one to another,
he went in vain to twenty hotels; and as night was
coming on, hlie returned to the Gresham, and asking
to see the proprietor, he told his tale, and begged to
be allowed to stay in the coffee-room for the night.
When Mr. Gresham had heard him, and seen the poor
wounded invalid travellers, he immediately brought
them into his own private rooms, gave them all they
needed-beds, and care, and comforts; procured medical aid that night for them; and during the week
they were compelled to remain, he and his kind family
attended them with indefatigable hospitality.  Nor
would he accept any remuneration whatever; saying,
they were guests in his private house, not customers
in his hotel. 
We proceeded to the North, and called on Friends
Ring, the manufacturers. Father and son constituted
the Firm; they were exceedingly orthodox Friends,
and invited us most politely to their respective houses,
both large, good and well furnished. My father spent
two long mornings making the inquiries he was so
anxious about, with respect to his son. The business
appeared satisfactory in every way, and he had no
fault to find with the large fee demanded; and yet,
108 
ESCAPE FPROM A KNAVE.
there was something on his mind, for which he could
not account, that made him hesitate to conclude the
arrangemenelt. And at last, after weighing the matter
well, he resolved to return home, and consult my mother again, previous to his final decision. Friends Ring
urged him to conclude it at once; and asked a question he could not answer even to himself-" Why wilt
thou not conclude the arrangement, now that thou art
here, and we have mutually agreed to the terms?"
On returning home, my mother, whom we feared would
be disappointed, said she was well pleased it had so
ended.'It was too far off to send the boy; and besides," she added, "they are such very plain Friends;
and all the plain Friends are not like thee, John dear."
This was one of the many instances in which the good
hand of our God was upon us. The younger partner
in that firm turned out soon after, to be a, swindler,
and a most unprincipled man. He embezzled a large
sum, falsified his books, and fled with his ill-gotten
wealth to America, deserting his nice, lady-like wife,
and large young family.  IHis conduct brought a
scandal on the Society; but as usual, he was read out
of the Meeting, and the principles he professed remained intact.
A religious body, certainly, ought not to be judged
of, by the bad conduct of individuals; and especially
when that body testifies against the evil members, by
disowning them.  This is the general and very plau sible argument; but if it can be proved that the very
elements of these unrighteois deeds are component
1 0
109 
FAMILY LISIT.
parts of that system-that they are the natural fruits
of that specious tree, w+hose sced germinates ill the
doctrines and practices of the body-then I conceive
it is a work of righteousness to arraign the Society
itself.  I am not skilled in disquisitions on cause and
effect; and leaving that to an abler pen, will simply
continue my story of the working of Quakerism as it
came before my own eyes.  " By their fruits ye shall
know them," is a sure criterion of judgment.
Benjamin Sibliman, a minister in great esteem in
Englaind, accompanied by the companion appointed to
watch over hin, paid us a family visit. Ile had what
is called a very weighty concern in our little circle.
We were all, with two Friends, our guests at the time,
assembled in the large drawing-room.   The Friends
shook hands with us all round, said what a fine day,
what a pleasant situation we lived in, &c. &c., and
then sat down in silence for about ten minutes. Friend
Benjamin repeatedly drawing out his handkerchief,
and applying it to his eyes and nose, and sighing
deeply; by which we knew he was labouring under
great weight of spiritual burden, and that caused us
to feel a kind of creeping solemnity, in expectation of
what was coining.  At length he spoke, still sitting
in his easy chair; (Friends do not ever stand up to
speak on family visits.)  He told us that he felt great
love for us-that he greatly wished us to be blessed
of the Lord-that every member of our large and interesting family ought to be a " standard bearer" in
our highly favoured Societv-that the Lord was only
ito
I 
IFAMILY VISIT.
waitilng for us to be willing- that if we would yield to
the requirings of truth, and come down to that lowly
state, which was comparable to Mlary in the Gospel,
who anointed the Saviour's feet, we should experience
a lifting up, and be made the honoured instruments of
upholding the principles of our worthy predecessors,
some of whom had even suffered martyrdom for the
precious cause.
I-e spoke in this strain for more than half an hour;
then paused a few minutes, and knelt down to pray.
We all stood up. He first prayed that thie dear heads
of the family might be strengthened to maintain to the
end the Christian warfare, that when the solemn close
came, they might have the satisfaction of knowing that
they had set a good example, both in words and practices, to their dear children. Then he prayed that the
dear eldest daughter of this house, might be so tendered by a feeling of contrition, as to be made willing
to give up those outward adornments, which were so
calculated to beguile the unstable; that she might feel
the great responsibility which rested on her-' yes, he
felt bold to say, on her —as to the younger members
of the family, who were so naturally led by her ex ample.  Then hlie prayed that the Lord would make
her willing to give up the vain fashion of wearing curls,
and plaiting her hail; and that he would teach her
that these were not little thiings.  I-e also prayed for
the strangers amonigst us- that they might be gath ered into the fold, and never forget that they belong ed to that peculiar people, whilch God had chosen for
Ill. 
F1A),IILY VISIT.
himself, even the people of a plain language. Then
another pause, during which Friend Benjamin wiped
his eyes, and nose, again and again, and then he turned round, and shook hands with my father.
A  desultory conversation commenced.  Abraham,
the companion, was an old acquaintance, and told us
that Benjamin's concern was much greater in our
family than it had been in any other in the town.
This was a compliment.  It intimated that we were
of consequence in the estimation of an English Minister; and Abraham quietly said to the eldest daughter,
"Now, my dear, wont thee put on caps?   Thy hair
is, indeed, very beautiful; but it would look so neat,
if closely braided under a small cap. I would like
thee better with a cap on, even than I do without.
And then these little frills and ornaments: do, my
dear young friend, give them up; they are only vain
adornings."  "Well, now, Aby," she replied, "listen
to mie.  In the first place, I do not want thee to like
me better than thee does;" and she smiled archly on
the good natured old man-"thee can't help liking
me.  In the second place, my time is far too valuable
to be spent making caps, and wasted day after day,
clap-starching them. Besides, it was He who made
me who gave me my hair; and I am not so ungrateful as to hide it under a cap, as if I was ashamed of
it.  The Scripture commlands me to adorn myself in
modest apparel, not to disfigure myself in an unbecoming sectarian garb. Friend Benjamin has relieved his
mind.  Thee never was very clever at preaching, my
112 
rFA 1ALi \5' VIIT. Il
good Friend Aby; so shake hands withi me now, and
I promise thee the sins of my dress will not be laid at
tfiy door."'"Ah".. repciicd Aby, " thee is a mighty
pleasant young woman; and I do think thee is wiser
than many of us, for all thee is not so consistent as I
wish thee was."
Luncheon was announced, and the worthiy Friends
set to work with right good will.  They were somewhat serious whilst eating the delicate sweetbread;
then cold turkey and ham raised their spirits, and
against the apple-tarts and cheese-cakes had done
their part, Friends Benjamin and Aby were as jocose
as plain Friends are permitted to be. One of the lads
whispered, just loud enough for Aby to hear. " Does
not Friend Benjamin look much happier and more
sensible now, than when hlie was putting his handkerchief to his eyes, and trying to make us think he
was oppressed, even to tears, under the weight of his
concern? Ask him to take some flummery; I am
sure he would like it.," Aby contracted his brows,
but smiled, and said, " Thee is a very wild boy, I am
afraid."
It was wonderful to think of the number of Friends
who now began to have concerns on their minds about
our dress. The boys they did not interfere about,
although my eldest brother was far more unfriendly
in his dress than any one of us. I-e dressed in all
points like a gentleman, without any of those righteous spirits rising up to testify against him.  But the
girls were tormented on the subject; and as nmy father
I 0
1 1.3
F-i
i" 
1DR P ES-S.
was an elder, they made hil  think he was deficient
in his duty unless hlie constrained us to adopt their
views. If it had been possible to sow discord in our
happy home, they would have done it, by their u11ceasing efforts to set the father and daughters at
variance.
Sarah Mills, of Clonmel, whom  I mentioned as
having the men's andl wonmeu's Meetings both under
her guidance, thoulght fit to interfere.  She wrote
letter after letter to him.  I wish I had those letters,
that I might copy them here, for they were curious
specimens of self-righteous bigotry; but my mother
had them burnt, as discreditable to the writer. She
wrote to him, that it was his duty to coerce his daughters; and that if his wife would not co-operate with
him in doing so, he should exert the authority of a
master, and insist upon obedience. That, as an elder
in the Society, he was under an especial obligation to
see that his family walked consistently.   That the
Society did expect his daughters to be amongst those
who should take an active part in the discipline. And
she added, that she had found it often necessary to
exercise control over her own family; and she experienced that a firm and decided manner was effective.
Even her dear son-in-law, she said, was now obedient
to her in everything she could wish.   That poor,
craven, hen-pecked son-in-law, was a cipher in his
own house, as well as everywhere else.
But it is time to mention what our offence was
which this worthy woman was so stirred up about. It
11-4 
DRESS.
was, that we wore tortoise-shell side-combs.  Incredible as it may seem, that was the burden of her letters.
She alluded to the general style of our rain-ent, but
tortoise-shell side-combs was the specified sin.  Fortunately, my father had long before told us a story of
Sarah Mills, which had brought her meddling and selfsatisfied character under our notice; and her wish to
dictate to him, on one occasion, in so offensive a manier, though we laughed at the recital of it, was now
of great use in nullifying her present attempt to make
himi coerce us at her instigation.
It was at a Quarterly Meeting party, before my
father was married; when he was young, well-looking,
and wealthy, and consequently one whom the Friends
were anxious to see suitably settled in life.  Sarah
Mills had unmarried daughters, and wished to bring
about a match with one of them. My father was slow
at taking the hints so often given him; but he rather
avoided the house, feeling that even a casual visit there
might be misconstrued; and besides that, he was not
only deeply in love, but actually engaged to thebright,
intelligent, and highly-educated little woman with
whom he afterwards spent his long and happy life.
Sarah Mills knew nothing of this engagement, so she
invited him very pressingly to her house, and he went.
After dinner, when they were all assembled, she said
to him, " John, will thee give me two or three
shillings?  I want them."   She held out her hand,
and he gave her three tenpenny pieces.  She jingled
them together, and said, "I like the sound."  Then to
115 
VISITS FROM TIHE OVERSEERS.
her daughter Rebecca-" Give me three tenpenny
pieces out of thy pocket." Rebecca gave them, and she
shook them all together; and, turning to the company,
who were looking and wondering what she was about,
she said, "I like that music; don't you think they
jingle very well together?" " How can thee get over
that, John?" said one of her allies, as the laugh ran
round the room. "I wish thee joy. She is fine, stout,
young woman," said another, "and thy mother-in-law
will save thee all the trouble of ordering thy own
house." As soon as he could, my father slipped away,
without even saying farewell to the fair Rebecca, or
her clever, strong-minded mother.
We had a visit from the two women overseers of
our meeting, to remonstrate on the impropriety of
having a drawing master. They said they would not
think of bringing us before the Meeting for it, but it
was a relief to their own minds to speak to us on the
matter; and they hoped we would weigh it well, and
remember, that it was in much love they had spoken.
Another time, the overseers came to say, that they
had heard of our having a French master; that they
knew it was not generally objected to by Friends, but
they felt easier to warn us. There was great danger
in it; it was insidious; Friends were tempted to say
things in French they would not say in English-such
as Monsieur and Madame. They did not wish to be
officious, and they hoped we would not think them
officious; but their office was a very important one,
and they were anxious to fulfil their duty faithfully.
1 1 (;
r 
SIMIILARITY OF POPERY AND QUAKERISMI.  117
We were always ready to hear them, in silent and
respectful attention; and always gave them plenty of
cakes and fruit when they had unburdened their minds.
We wished to keep them in good humour; for if they
had been any way huffed with us, they would have
taken a ready revenge, and put us under dealing.
This would have so grieved my father, that we made
many concessions which we would not otherwise have
done. To please them, and keep them quiet, we always wore the "Bonnet" at Meetings, which we
attended regularly; and would stay at home of a cold,
damp day, rather than put on our out-of-meeting
bonnets! and we always used the plain language to
Friends, and amongst ourselves.
There is a great similarity between Quakerism and
Popery. Both are the religion of the priests, and
the people are compelled to an outward conformity.
The domineering influence of the Friends who take
part in the discipline, over the body, is exactly a
counterpart of that which the priests exercise over
their flocks. The one requires obedience, because
they are inspired, they tell us; the others call themselves the Church, and demand it.  The spirit is the
same in Loth! 
AIIAPL ITCATIONS, FOR  MEMBIL'ERSIIIP.
CIIAPTER VII.
Applications for membl)ership-William Abbenger's visit and sermon
to persons under twenty-one years of age-Friend Sailors-Ship wrecked Girls-Escape from  Quakerism-Dublin Yearly Meet ing-Receipt for making a red round of beef.
I remember three applications for membership being made to our Meeting. Two of the applicants
were ladies of the highest respectability, the wives of
country gentlemen, middle-aged, and wealthy; the
other was a poor woman, unmarried, and living in the
city.  We knew all three personally, and were much
interested in the business. They were kept in suspense for several months: visit after visit was appointed to be made to them; and the report of those
visits was read to us in the Monthly Meeting. Julia
Drevor, one of the ladies, agreed to every thing required; she expressed her entire unity with all our
doctrines, practices, and peculiarities; assumed the
strictest garb, adopted the language, and came to
Meeting whenever she could.  She was admitted.  A
sweet, gentle, amiable lady she was.  Tired of the
gay fr-ivolities of the fashionable life she had led, she
rushed into Quakerism, and flattered herself that the
mortifications she underwent from her family and acquaintances was an acceptable sacrifice. She pur
118
L-
I 
APPLICATIONS FOR MEMBERSHIP.
chased numerous Friends' books, and would pore over
them till her sight failed. My mother had many serious conversations with her, and advised her to study
the Bible instead, for of that she was very ignorant.
She went to live in the country, and we rarely met
her. When we did, she was greatly altered;  her
smile, though still sweet, was very sad. She soon
after died, having sent for the Clergyman of the parish on her death-bed, instead of for one of our ministers, as a consistent and converted Friend ought
to have done.
Martha Ulveston, the other lady, was also an amiable woman, and was possessed of far more strength
of character than Julia. They were relatives, and
had worked each other up to the conviction, that it
was a required duty of them to become Quakers.
Martha was many months longer on our Meetingbooks than Julia. She found it more difficult to give
the unconditional surrender of all her pre-conceived
ideas of religious truth. She was sincere in her wish
to be a self-denying, plain Friend; but her husband,
an intelligent, sensible man, was greatly averse to her
doing so. However, she was at last admitted, and,
I believe, continued till her death, a few years after,
conformable in all respects to our rules.
The third, poor little Rachel Bates, was visited
also. She was reported to unite in all our views of
religious truth unconditionally. The visitors said they
believed her to be sincere, but that she was very ignorant; and that it was possible her wish to join Friends
119
B
r 
120    WM. ABBENGER'S VISIT AND SERMON.
might be influenced by the knowledge that we supported our own poor. On that supposed possibility
she was rejected.
These were the only applications for membership
in our Women's Meeting that ever came under my
knowledge. I have known three cases of applying
to be restored to the membership, which had been
lost by marrying in Church. One of them only was
re-admitted; for the rule is, you must declare you are
sorry for having done so; and two of the ladies refused positively to say this. The third, after holding
out for some years, at last said, she was sorry she had
married; and then she and her children were all received back again into the fold.
When William Abbenger was travelling the nation,
with a certificate from the London Meeting, to visit
families, he stayed with us for more than a week. We
liked him very much, he was so gentlemanly in his
manners and habits, and good-humoured and happy
in himself. His conversation was interesting, scientific, and amusing; and he did not trouble us with
incessant preachings, like some of the other ministers.
One first day morning, at breakfast, he said to us, "I
should like very much if some of the young people of
your meeting might be invited to meet me this evening in your large room. I think I should like to address them in a less formal manner than in a regularly appointed gathering in the Meeting-house. Am
I asking too much? or imposing a burden on thee, my
friend?" My father promptly replied, that his wishes
v 
WMI. ABBENGER'S VISIT AND SERMON.
should be attended to; and each of us was commissioned to invite the young people up to tea.  "Let
your invitations," said Friend William, "be limited
to persons under twenty-one years of age."
Friends' Meeting-houses are well designated. They
are, indeed, places for meeting together; shaking
hands, chatting, and communicating all sorts of interesting family and Society news; and it is possible,
that during the time they all sit down in silence,
many are striving hard to meditate on the things
which concern the salvation of their souls; but the
Lord has declared, "My house shall be called the
house of prayer." In the Friends' Meeting-house,
prayer is very seldom heard. Year after year will
often pass over, and not one solitary prayer be audibly offered in many of them.
It was to Meeting and to meet our friends we went;
and great amusement we had executing Friend William's wishes.  "Mary, I can't ask thee to come;
thee is over the allowed age, I think; is not thee?"
to a young lady of twenty-one and a-half. "Rebecca,"
to another who looked sixty, "I do not exactly know
thy age; but if thou art not over twenty-one, Friend
Abbenger has a concern to address thee, this evening,
at tea. May I say thee will come?" "Oh! certainly,
my dear."  " Susanna, how old art thou?"  " I am
not going to tell thee." " Oh! very well; but I can't
ask thee to the English Friend's great tea, unless thee
tells me."   "Why?"   "No one is to be let come,
who is over twenty-one." "Oh! well, I'll come;
11
121
r
PI 
122    WM. ABBENGER'S VISIT AND SERMON.
I'm nineteen." " Ah, Susanna, I do think thee is ten
years more than that."  " Oh! yes, I'll come; it is
this odious bonnet that makes me look old." "James,
I am sorry I can't ask thee to our great tea party
this evening."  "And why, pray, can thee not? My
sisters have just told me they are going."  "Oh! yes,
they are young enough. The English Friend has
specified twenty-one as the oldest that he wishes for.
Thee is long past that, thee knows."  "Nonsense, I
am seventeen." "No, James, thee cannot deceive
me. I remember those nice black whiskers of thine
for many years past."  "Oh! yes; but does not thee
know that I am a lusus naturse?"
Altogether we assembled a company of eighty; and,
very much against my mother's conscience, she had to
send messengers to purchase bread and cakes on the
Sabbath day, to feed this unexpected host of juveniles.
As soon as the tea things were removed, Friend William, who had been very chatty and pleasant until
now, dropped into silence. His face became very
grave, and we all ceased to speak, and ranged ourselves in quiet order round the room, and round the
table in the centre. The door was open, and many
were seated on the landing-place and up the stairs.
After a lengthened pause, he asked my brother to
read a chapter in the Gospels, but did not say which.
Then a short silence, and he addressed us all on the
importance of religion; the value of the soul; the uncertainty of life; the necessity for dedication of heart;
the high profession which Friends make of inspira 
WVM. ABBENGER'S VISIT AND SERMON.
tion, and the privileges which we enjoyed as members
of a chosen and peculiar people. He spoke for nearly
an hour, and the Friends left us, greatly pleased with
the novelty, and edification, and entertainment they
had received.
After they were gone, and the Friend had retired
for the night, we began to converse on the events of
the day. My mother's remark made a deep impression on my mind.  She said, "I was greatly disappointed in Friend Abbenger's address. I do think
our ministers will have a great deal to answer for,
they all neglect their opportunities of preaching the
Gospel so sadly. Here were eighty immortal souls,
listening with as much attention as if an angel from
heaven was speaking to them. Why did he not tell
them they were sinners, and must be washed in the
blood of the Lord Jesus, if they would be saved? Why
did he not tell them to read their Bibles, and to pray
that the Holy Spirit might enable them to understand
its truths? Instead of this, he was puffing them up
with the false idea, that they were superior t9 other
denominations of Christians. Our high professionsour highly-privileged Society-our chosen and peculiar people. Our profession is the Christian Religion
-nothing more or higher than that of all the Reformed Churches.   The highest privilege a mortal
can have, is to be allowed access to God in prayer
through Christ. This is not certainly peculiar to our
Society. The privilege he meant, of being allowed
to attend our Monthly Meetings, is unworthy of a
123 
FRIEND SAILORS.
preacher's notice. If our ministers knew themselves,
that the only way in which a soul can be saved, is by
faith in the Lord Jesus; and if they really felt in their
own hearts this truth, I am sure they would preach it
simply and savingly."
As my father was a Russian merchant, his business
often brought him in contact with the captains of vessels. They are a class of men for whom he felt much
interest; the comforts of so many homes depending
upon their skill and enterprise, and they themselves
so completely deprived of all domestic enjoyment. He
therefore constantly brought a nautical friend to dine
and spend the evening with us; and when the individual happened, as he sometimes was, to be a Quaker, he was allowed to become almost domesticated
during his stay in the city. Some of these guests were
very interesting, intelligent men-Spaniards, Portuguese, Dutch, and Russian; and as my father could
converse with them in their own languages, their
happy and gratified looks told of their enjoyment;
and many and many a little token of their grateful
remembrance of his kindness was sent to him from
far-off lands. The parting gift he loved to give them,
was a Bible in their own language.
One winter's day, he sent us up a note from town,
to say, that a captain and his three daughters were to
dine, and stay a few days with us. He added, "their
ship was wrecked, they have lost everything, and were
picked up by one of the coal ships. Tell the girls to
dress them, and make them comfortable." Poor
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things! they arrived soon after the note-three nice,
pretty girls, all under seventeen. One had a man's
coat on; another a blanket wrapped round her; and
the little thing had on a sailor boy's trowsers, and a
piece of canvass sail-cloth like a shawl. We soon
attired them in our own dresses, refreshed and cheered them; and against dinner-time came, they were
cheerfully smiling, and telling us of their misfortune.
They had been run down by a large vessel, and damaged so much, that when the night came on, wild and
wet, their ship was unmanageable. The masts were
cut down to try and save their lives, but at last they
had to get into the boat, as the vessel began to sink,
and after tossing for many hours like a cork on the
billows, the coal ship had seen and saved them. One
man was lost out of the crew; the others, though sadly
bruised and frost-bitten, were very thankful to have
their lives preserved. They remained our guests about
a week, and then left us well clad, and with a considerable sum of money, which my father had collected
and raised for them.
Another of our nautical visitors, having inadvertently mentioned the names of some London Friends,
was questioned as to his knowledge of them; and at
last he was reluctantly brought on to confess, that he
was a Friend himself. His mother was an elder or
overseer in the Meeting, his father dead, and he, the
eldest of several children, could not brook the bondage
of Quakerism. To escape it, and the remonstrances
and reproofs of his mother and her friends, he had,
11*
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DUBLIN YEARLY MEETING.
when quite a lad, run away from home, and gone as
cabin-boy on board an East Indiaman. He had worked
hard, saved money, and was now part owner of the
vessel he commanded. We were the first Friends he
had come in contact with since his flight; and his heart
warmed to the old familiar language of his childhood,
and the names of his unforgotten former acquaintancs.
By my father's persuasion and assistance, he renewed
his intercourse with his mother, and obtained her for
giveness, which, he repeatedly declared, was a great
ease to his mind; but he would not return to Quakerism, of which he had quite a horror.
My mother having occasion to go to Dublin, and it
being nearly the time of the Yearly Meeting, there, it
was planned to make a pleasant party, and to attend
it. My mother, sister, two brothers, and myself, anticipated great pleasure from this trip, and were not
disappointed. We travelled in our own carriage and
post-horses, and put up at Tuthill's Hotel, in Dawson
street, to be near the Meeting-house. It was not
what is called an interesting Meeting; that is, there
were no American, and only two English ministers,
at it; and according to the number and importance of
those strangers, is the attendance of our own country
Friends; and, consequently, the entertainments and
parties were smaller, and less attractive, than Yearly
Meeting companies generally are.  However, that
made no difference to us. The few invitations which
we accepted, were given in honor of us, not of the
Meeting Friends. We entertained our own company
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at the Hiotel, sometimes at breakfast, sometimes at
tea, about half a dozen at a time.   Many of our
acquaintances were out of the Society; and as my
mother's character was well known, she was visited
by several of the benevolent and religious leaders of
the Societies formed for the benefit of the poor and
the ignorant. They endeavoured, and with success,
to interest her in the Kildare-street Society, the Hibernian Society, the Bible Society, and several other
such like Societies. We attended some of the Rotundo
Meetings, and spent altogether a very pleasant six
weeks. But I had seen so little of the Friends, and
attended so few of the sittings of the Yearly Meeting,
that I resolved to persuade my father to bring me
with him to the next, as I knew he would attend all
regularly, and go among the Friends in their own
houses. I found no difficulty in inducing the dear man
to gratify my wishes. With one sister for a companion, we came by the coach, and engaged apartments
at the Gresham.
This proved an unusually large and interesting
Meeting. The names of the celebrated ministers who
had applied to their own Meetings for certificates to
attend it, had been spoken of all through the country
for several weeks previously. John Earl, with his
sister, the celebrated Elizabeth Stately, and her sister in-law, the little Elizabeth Grill; and, besides these,
there were seven other strange ministers. The first
day Morning Meeting was very large, and several of
the preachers, men and women, addressed us. Eliza
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beth Stately prayed for a blessing on the Yearly
Meeting, and that all the sittings might be owned by
the Divine Head.
It is not easy to recollect what the Friends say in
their sermons; they are so discursive, so rambling, so
slovenly in their arrangement, and so mixed up with
the expressions of their own feelings, and I may add,
so much alike in the one point of exalting Quakerism,
and treating it as the only true development of Christianity, that unless you write them down at the time,
they soon pass away, unless some peculiar oddity impresses the speaker and the subject on the memory.
I had attended Dr. Crook's lectures, and from them
learned how to take down the words of the speakers.
I have several manuscript volumes of Friends' addresses beside me, which, however, I fear would prove
but tiresome reading, if I inserted them. The opinion
of Quaker preaching, given by the good William Wilberforce, I entirely agree with-" It leaves behind it
no valuable deposit."
After the Morning Meeting, we went by invitation
to dine with one of the head Friends of Dublin.  There
were about eighteen guests. Our entertainment was
excellent, choice, substantial, and varied, with most
delicious confectionary, and good wines. The company all sedately chatty, and gravely pleasant.
At the Evening Meeting we were favored with
five sermons-two men and three women speakers;
and then we took tea with another Friend, in a very
large company, which had been gathered together, in
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DUBLIN YEARLY MEETING.
honor of the great ministers who were of the party.
Two rooms were filled with guests. The plain Friends
gathered around the English ministers in the best room,
listening with devout attention to their remarks, and
occasionally venturing to utter a few timid words. I
was, of course, among the younger and less important
part of the company, in the back room, and yet so
near the folding doors, that I could see and hear all
that was doing.
"I really am quite pleased I have come to Ireland,"
said the English Friend, "we had quite a privileged
time in both Meetings to-day."
"Yes," replied Joseph, our host, "it was a precious
opportunity."
"I am of opinion," she said, "that we English
Friends would do well, to be more frequently in the
habit of coming amongst you, it feels quite refreshing
to me, to be permitted to associate with so many of
our dear Friends in the truth, in their own native
land."
"Yes," said Joseph; "and it is very gratifying to
us, to see you amongst us."
" Canst thou tell me who that female Friend is, that
addressed the Meeting this morning; she sat the last
in our gallery, and commenced, I think, with the words,
'I do verily believe'?"
"Oh! yes," he answered; "that is Sarah Black a wonderful woman; she is an acknowledged minister.
She is sometimes very large in the exercise of her
gift."
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DUBLIN YEARLY MEETING.
" Your ministers, I observe," said she, " are mostly
females."
"Yes," he replied, "an American Friend was not
long since amongst us; and remarking how the gift
of the ministry was so generally bestowed on our women Friends, he was led to speak of it from the gallery,
as a symptom of decline in the vigour of our Society.
He warned us to stir up the life within us; or, said he,
' the women will take your crowns from you.'  Some
of our females were not well pleased at the remarks
he made."
"Really," she replied, "I am opinion, that it is
very desirable, men Friends should share with us in
the burden of the ministry.  The weight of so serious
a calling is too important, to be exclusively laid on the
females."
"Yes," said Joseph; "but our men do not seem to
apprehend that they are called to speaking in public;
and as the women do feel willing to surrender themselves to the service, it appears as if the arrangement
was not altogether of our own seeking.",
"Ah!" she said, "but I am of opinion, that if our
men Friends were faithful to the tender monitions of
the divine light, they would be appointed to the service
of the ministry.  I am really of opinion, that there is
danger to be apprehended, when this important office
in the Church is wholly delegated to our sex.  Some
of us may not be well skilled in administering that
solid meat, which a healthful body requires, although
capable of supplying the milk which is suited for
babes."
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DUBLIN YEARLY MEETING.
"Yes," said Joseph; "but thou knowest it is the
Spirit that speaks, and the instrument is not to be
regarded. The edification which we require, will be
administered to us by the Spirit, through that vessel
which is dedicated to the service; and perhaps the
weaker the vessel, the more glorified may the Spirit
be; for there is no distinction of persons."
She paused a few minutes, and then said, "Is that
young woman, who was seated on the steps of our
gallery, and spoke a few words this evening, an acknowledged minister?"
"Yes," replied Joseph, "she has very lately been
acknowledged; she belongs to one of our small country Meetings."
"She appears to be a very simple-minded person;
art thou personally acquainted with her?"
"Yes," he replied; "she has been very carefully
brought up, by her mother, Anne Butt. Has dedicated herself very early to the work of the ministry:
she is only about twenty-four years of age."
"Ah!" she replied, "I am of opinion, there may
be a rashness in encouraging what may prove but the
zealous desires of a well-meaning young person."
The name Anne Butt, had been heard in the back
room; and I turned to listen what the juvenile portion
of the company thought of her.
"Mary, I think thee knows all about her; come
now, do tell us," said one.
"I do" said Mary; "in the first place, she has
been brought up a model of our third query, in plain
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DUBLIN YEARLY MEETING.
ness of speech, behaviour, and apparel. Her mother
was so careful to bring her up consistently, and to
keep her from contamination with the world, that poor
Anne was never allowed even to sit in the front of the
house, lest she should look out at the window and see
vanity or wickedness. She was taught her letters out
of George Fox's Life, and to read, in Sarah Grubb's
Journal. She told me that she had great satisfaction
in being able to say, that she had never read any books
but Friends' books."
"Consequently," added a plain-looking young man
standing by,'" she is well calculated to preach to
Friends."
"Cousin Edward," said Mary, "thee must not interrupt me with such unbecoming remarks. Anne is
an acknowledged minister of our Society, and must be
spoken of with respect."
"Go on, Mary, and never mind him.  Ah! do; we
are all interested."
"I do not think I have much more to tell.  She
can not only read, but write too, and do, sums in a
small way. Then she works beautifully; instead of
hemming her handkerchiefs, she stitches them all
round, two threads to every stitch. She is very fond
of needle-work, and spends most of her time at it;
but all plain-work of course."
" Consequently she is well calculated to preach,"
said Edward again.
"I will not condescend to notice thee, Edward,"
said Mary, smiling.  "Anne is far above us all, now.
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DUBLIN YEARLY MEETING.
She used to be very glad to see me; but now she can
only speak to the elderly plain Friends. She drops
into silence, when any of her old acquaintances are
near, and is much given to the practice of admonishing us. She has concerns about so many things, which
it is unpleasant to think one may not manage for
one's-self, that we rather avoid her company now.
My dress-and I am sure I am plain as plain can be
-is a constant trouble to her spirit; but she is far
beyond me. She is so very plain, she will not even
wear fingers in her gloves."
" Indeed," said Edward, " that is plain; I wonder
is she too plain to wear toes to her stockings."
This last idea of Edward's upset all our gravity;
and a laugh too loud to be quite decorous, was the
consequence.
The next morning the Meetings for discipline commenced.  The room we met in was very crowded.
The business commenced according to the rules of the
Book of Discipline, by reading over what had been
done last year; and then the clerk was appointed for
the present time, with three other Friends to assist
her. They sat at one side of an elevated table, which,
being covered with a green cloth, and strewn with
books, pens, and paper, had quite a business look.
The ministers were on the seat exactly behind them,
but raised a couple of steps higher; and we so ranged
in front, as that every one could see the table and the
ministers. Very soon after we had sat down in silence,
the English Friend knelt down, and prayed for a bless        12
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DUBLIN YEARLY MIEETING.
ing on the assembled company, in much the same language as she had used the morning before in the public worship. The names of those who had been sent
from distant Meetings as representatives, were called
over; each one slowly rising and answering, "Here,"
when her name was mentioned. Then the clerk read
out one query, and each representative in her turn
replied to it. Then a second and a third query; that
was all the business done at the first sitting; for several Friends had concerns to speak, and took up the
time doing so.  One said, "She did not feel easy to
refrain from mentioning a subject that had very seriously rested on her mind; and which she believed to
be of importance; for we were a self-denying people,
and it became us to let our light shine. A laxity had
crept in among Friends, in the matter of entertaining
their country Friends, and the strangers who favored
us with their company. She would not wish to put
any impediment in the way of due hospitality; but
the show, and the extravagance, and the profusion,
were calculated to throw a stumbling-block ini the way
of the unlearned.  Sweets after dinner, were a great
need-not, and should be abstained from at such a solemn time; and wine was apt to make Friends drowsy,
when they came to the Evening Meeting." She then
sat down, and in about two minutes rose up again, and
said, "I feel easier to add, that cakes at tea are a
superfluity, which Friends would do well to avoid."
This meeting lasted for two hours; and after it was
over, we all hurried off to dinner. We found ourselves
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again in a large company, in which some of the English Friends were included.  The dinner was a capital
good one; fish, flesh, and fowl, and pies and puddings
in abundance. The lady of the house apologized for
the excellence of the repast she had invited us to; saying, that dinner had been ordered before she went to
Meeting; otherwise she would have paid due deference
to the advice given in the Yearly Meeting. The guests
told her they needed no apology. One of the men
guests asked what she alluded to; and when told,
said, "Ah! I think I can guess who gave that advice.
Was it not Sarah Castle?" " Yes." "She gives very
poor entertainments herself, and it vexes her to hear
the comparisons which are made.  She wants to have
you all in the same box with herself."
When dinner was over we all hurried back to Evening Meeting. Two more of the queries were got
through, and the certificates of the English Friends
were sent by the Men's Meeting, sitting close by, in
another room, in to us.  These documents were curious
in their way. They mentioned that the Friend named
in each of them, was a minister in that particular
Meeting which issued it; that she was in good esteem
amongst them, and that much unity had been felt for
her, in the labor of love she was performing, in visiting Ireland. After the clerk had read these papers,
in the usual slow, monotonous tone, which the Friends
adopt, to give solemnity to their proceedings, one
after another, three women rose to express thankfulness that their dear Friends had been led to visit this
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DUBLIN YEARLY MEETING.
land-to hope that the Lord would own the dedication of heart which had caused these beloved Friends
to leave their native shores, and come to refresh the
spirits of the travailing ones-to entreat Friends to
prize the precious opportunity now afforded them, and
to esteem it as a very plain proof that the Lord was
still gracious to us, seeing that he had sent his chosen
ones to minister to us, unworthy as we were of so great
a privilege. Besides these complimentary preachings,
several short remarks, each followed by the usual silence, were made on the queries. That on dress,
being, not "clear" from any of the Meetings, caused
great affliction; and the outpourings of remonstrances,
on the decline of true religion, which was indicated by
these deviations from the wholesome rules of our
Society.  One said, "She was oppressed by witnessing the inroads of the enemy, that she felt very bold
to say, the responsibility which rested on mothers was
very great. They ought to force obedience from their
families; but, alas! alas! she feared that too often
they had opened the door for further departure, by
putting straw bonnets on their dear children. She
was willing to believe they had unintentionally erred
by entertaining the fallacious notion, that for young
children it was a matter of small moment."
At the end of every one of the sittings, a written
message was sent in to the men, to say, the women
wished to know had the men any business to communicate to them, and to request information of the time
to which the men meant to adjourn. The men would
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then keep us waiting a long time, and at last send
back as formal a note as that they had received, and
perhaps two or three printed epistles and testimonies
of the dead Friends.
When the Evening Meeting was over, we went to
another Friend's house to tea, and were entertained
in the same way-plenty of tea, and cakes, and good
things; and the conversation, almost invariably, was
restricted to comments on the Friends who took part
in the D)iscipline, silly, witty, and pungent as the
speaker happened to be.  And really, when I call to
mind the many, many remarks I have heard made on
the slavish subjection of intellect and common sense,
which these good Friends demand of their hearers,
and the just appreciation of their claims to deferential compliance which was expressed, I am astonished
that the mental thraldom is so long endured.
Trhe third morning there was a meeting for worship,
when both men and women sat together.  We were
given several shiort sermons, and one long one, which
was very good of its kind; for JohLn Earl was the
-veryv best minister in the Society.
After that was over, we went to another dinner
party; but here the fiuits of the advice given by Sarah Castle was unpleasantly evident.  A leg of mutton and potatoes, and a red round of cold beef, was
all the dinner, not even a pudding; and when the
cloth was remoived, instead of wine, coffee was served
up.
There was no d(anger to be apprehended that even    12*
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DUBLIN YEARLY MEETING.
ing of our being drowsy in Meeting. A couple more
of the queries were gone through, and preached on.
One of the English Friends had much to say for the
easing of her own mind, on the beauty of our discipline, the value of upholding it in all its primitive
loveliness, and the danger of departing from its order.
Another English Friend hoped we were careful to
study the Holy Scriptures. She had found them a
light to her feet, and a lamp to her path. They had
comforted her in the hour of bereavement, and counselled her in the path of difficulty. She was jealous
of her dear Irish sisters, lest this invaluable treasure
of heavenly wisdom had been disregarded, and she
was of opinion, that a revival of religion would follow the diligent and prayerful study of that Holy
Book. Soon after she had resumed her seat, up rose
one of our own country preachers, and said, she could
not feel easy to refrain from adding a few words to
the instructive counsel our dear Friend had so weightily imparted. She was very fearful there was neglect
in the perusal of Friends' books. She was, far from
wishing to detract from the importance of studying
the Holy Scriptures. The one should be done, and
the other not undone; for it was the self-same Spirit
which dictated the Scriptures, by which our dear predecessors had been enabled to give forth those valuable works. It was the same Spirit which had gathered
us as a people, and we ought to make ourselves acquainted with the doctrines by which our highlyfavoured Society had been of old distinguished from
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DUBLIN YEARLY MEETING.
the ungodly world. It was a truth, which had been
in a very remarkable manner borne in upon her mind,
that our Society would decline; yea, would become
as a thing of naught, if the perusal of Friends'
Books was neglected. She said, "It stands us upon,
my dear sisters, to look well to our doings in this
matter."
We went to another tea party this evening, and
beard sad complaints of the poor dinners which, in
compliance with Sarah Castle's advice, the Friends
had given generally. The men Friends, old and
young, gave their opinion, that Sarah Castle "had
run before her guiding in the matter."
The fourth morning again found us at Meeting. We
had always a very unpleasant ordeal to pass through,
to get to our own meeting-room. There is a long
vestibule leading to the inner hall, and all along this
vestibule the men range themselves, to stare at the
women as they pass in. There they make their comments, often audibly, and fix among themselves which
is to be called the prettiest girl at the Meeting. In
the hall inside is the place where the invitations are
given, and, consequently, it is no easy matter to make
your way to the interior.
The business was just of the same kind-two more
queries, one or two more epistles read, and then a
Committee appointed to draw up answers to those
epistles, and to bring them to a future sitting to be
approved of by the Meeting. All the business which
is done might be got over in ten minutes easily; but
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DUBLIN YEARLY MEETING.
it is a part of the system to spin out the appearance
of doing something for the allotted two hours. At this
time two men Friends sent in a note, to say they had
a concern to visit the women Friends. A note was
returned, saying, that the present appeared a suitable
time to receive the proposed visit of men Friends; and
as soon as the door-keeper had made her solemn exit
with the missive, the Friends in the best seat in the
preachers' gallery vacated their places, and settled
them comfortably for the men. After a few minutes'
waiting, in they came, three tall men, with their hats
on. The third had been sent to accompany them,
and to see they behaved properly. One of them had
a good deal to say; and very good advice he gave on
the necessity of being prepared for death, which is sure
to come upon each of us, and the miserable state of
those who put off till that fearful hour, the most important occupation an immortal being could have, the
salvation of the never-dying soul. He said he believed there were some present who would be called
on, before the present year had circled its close, to
give an account of the deeds done in the body. He
warned us, that the time might come when the cup of
salvation, if refused now, might not be attainable;
and concluded with the words-" A Saviour, or I
die! a Redeemer, or I perish for ever!"
The other had a good deal also to say; but it was
more for the relief of his own mind than for the edification of ours.
On this evening there was no Meeting, held, as so
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DUBLIN YEARLY MEETIG.
many of the Friends were appointed on the Committees. For each epistle there were about half a dozen
women selected. I was curious to know how they
managed to compose them; and after a good deal of
coaxing I prevailed on one of the initiated to tell me.
Each one wrote out a sentence, in accordance with
the epistle they were replying to, and from a sentiment contained in the Book of Discipline; so worded,
however, as to appear different.  The plainest and
most orthodox of the six sisters, was appointed a
kind of president, and it fell to her lot to combine
the different sentences into one connected whole.
There is not much in any of them, and the beginning
and ending is always the same-acknowledging the
receipt and acceptability of that before them, and
concluding with thankfulness for the favoured Meeting now sitting, and the visits of so many ministers,
and then the salutation of love.
A friend of mine once tried to bring into the epistle,
in her sentence, the idea, that, as sinful creatures,
we were hopelessly lost in ourselves, and needed the
atoning blood of the Lord Jesus to cleanse us.   The
others said, that was very beautiful; but it was not
usual to depart from the phraseology which had been
approved of; and the president put it aside at once,
decidedly, by saying, it savoured of new-lightism.
Our dinner party to-day was at the house of a very
wealthy Friend. Plain as plain could be, he was;
and his wife a model of Quakerism. Every thing in
the house was drab, but of the finest and most costly
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texture. The drawing-room hearth rug, I was told,
had cost twenty pounds. We were fifteen at dinner,
and had to thank Sarah Castle again for the plain
fare. The eldest son of the family, a boy about ten
years old, was very communicative with me.   "Was
not that a horrid dinner," said lihe; "I wonder thee
could eat it? Only for the red round, we would be
all starved. Mamma says she can't stand it any
longer; so she won't ask any Friends for to-morrow,
and then we will have chickens and asparagus."
Wherever we went, we met the "red round;"  I
remarked on the subject, to my friend, Jane Grey.
"Ah!" said she, "it is easy to see thee is not much
used to Yearly Meetings. Every house that intends
to see company, has a "red round" prepared. It is a
very good dish; shall I give thee the receipt for
making it?"  "Pray  do," said I.  The next day,
soon after I had taken my seat in the Meeting, I felt
a gentle hand on my shoulder, and looking round,
saw Jane, with a comical smile, handing me a folded
paper, containing the promised receipt.  " Read it,"
she whispered; "I it contains food for meditation." It
was as follows:  "The Dublin Yearly Meeting's receipt for making
a'Cut and Come again red round.'
"Take a prime round of beef; bone it, and close
the hole; tie a tape round it, to keep it firm.  Take
four ounces of saltpetre pounded, and rub it well with
it; let it lie for two or three days; then rub it highly
with salt; then let it lie for ten days; drain most of
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DUBLIN YEARLY MEETING.
the liquor off. Take half an ounce of cloves powdered,
the same of mace, one ounce of pepper, one nutmeg
powdered, and rub the beef well with these. Then
take half a pound of suet, and flatten it with a rolling
pin; put it under and over the beef in a crock; lay a
sheet of whitey-brown paper over the meat; then cover
it with a plate, and bake it for four or five hours."
We had three more sittings of the Meeting; and
in them the business of finishing the queries, and
reading the prepared epistles, and signing them with
the clerk's name on behalf of the rest of us, was got
through.   Besides this, we had two lengthy testimonies for dead Friends read aloud, in which the
departed were described as having attained to that
perfection which the Society holds the doctrine of.
There was a great deal more preaching, in the same
different styles that I have described; and then the
conclusion, in which solemn thanks were recorded to
the Divine Head, for the manifestations of continued
love, which had been vouchsafed to us in the ministrations of so many of our beloved Friends from another land, and in the love with which the weighty
business of the Yearly Meeting had been conducted.
The next day, First day, we had very copious preaching. Even Sarah Black, and Anne Butt, who had been
thrown quite in the shade by the brightness of the
English luminaries, essayed each a sermon-" a few
broken words," as they said themselves.
It was a very pleasant Meeting; we renewed old
acquaintances, and made several new ones. We got
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DUBLIN YEARLY MEETING.
very good advice on many occasions, and on several
subjects; and found the Friends, despite of all their
oddities, most friendly, good-humoured, hospitable(as soon as ever the Meeting was over, the good dinners began again)-and light-hearted. The world goes
well with them, and they stand well with the world.
But religion, saving religion-alas! alas! that it
should be so-is smothered under the load of co-operations which the doctrines of the Society inculcate.
144 
RETURN HOME.
CHAPTER VIII.
Public Meeting at Enniscorthy-Scene at the Inn there-The great
Friends visit our city-Establish a Ladies' Society-Government
interferes to prevent visiting the Gaols-Quaker scruples-Difficulty
of being consistent.
THE Yearly Meeting ended, and our own private
business in Dublin transacted, we returned home
through the county Wicklow, for the purpose of seeing the far-famed Vale of Avoca, and the exquisitely
beautiful scenery of that unrivalled county, with the
many objects of interest it contains.
We travelled in a post-chaise, and such a chaise
it was as Maria Edgeworth's pen describes. Three
times we broke down on the road; and once the
horses, or rather the animals they called horses, fell
and rolled over. However, as we were all unhurt,
and the day very fine, and the road so very lovely,
for my part, I rather enjoyed the accidents. It gave
me time to climb up the hills, and to obtain a view of
the far-off sea and the cloud-capped mountains, which,
with the highly cultivated, and well-wooded foreground, formed a landscape replete with life, and
teeming with plenty, such as compels a frail mortal to
bow his head in marvellous adoration of the goodness
13
145
t 
VINEGAR HILL.
and power of the Almighty Creator of so magnificent
a scene.
At length we arrived at Enniscorthy late at night,
and the following morning, after an early breakfast,
and ordering a chaise to be ready the moment it was
called for, we went out to take a walk, and see that
spot of hateful notoriety, Vinegar Hill. A respectable-looking old man, with a spade on his shoulder,
seeing us looking towards the hill, accosted us with
the usual "God save you."   My father returned his
greeting, and entered into conversation with him. He
told us of the dreadful scene. He had himself been
in the rebel camp. It was an ease to his mind to talk
of it, even now, after so many years had passed. He
said, the screams and shrieks of the unhappy victims
still sounded in his ears, and that, night and day, they
were ever before his eyes. "And yet," he added, "I
could not help it. I was driven into it. Our own
priest was in it, and he made me and a whole lot of
us go with him. You are a priest, sir," said he, mistaking my father's dress.  "Tell me, for Qod's sake,
wont the blame of it be on him that drove us into it?"
Smarting under the lash of an accusing conscience,
which for thirty years had embittered every joy of
life, and marvelling at the confession of it being made
to total strangers, we left him, but not before my
father had admonished him to flee from the wrath to
come, and to cast himself and his sorrows on the
mercy of Christ Jesus the Lord.
On returning to the hotel, we found the English
146
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PUBLIC MEETING AT ENNISCORTHY.
Friends had arrived there, and were about to hold a
public meeting. They had two or three young men in
their train, and these were sent through the town,
distributing printed papers which they had brought
from Dublin, inviting the inhabitants, rich and poor,
high and low, to attend the Meeting, which was to be
held in about an hour, in a large room hurriedly fitted
up for the occasion.
We resolved to delay our departure, and to avail
ourselves of the opportunity of again hearing those
celebrated Friends' preaching.
There were about two hundred people who came to
the Meeting. Not being accustomed to sitting down
in silence, it was no wonder they could not understand
its being necessary to do so; and John Earl at last
rose up on the platform, and explained the necessity
for silence being observed. Whilst he was speaking,
they were quiet, but as soon as he ceased the chatter
began again.
" What did they bring us here for?" said one.
"Faix I don't know," was the answer.    Maybe
the decent people are going to treat us genteelly."
" Whist with you," called out a loud voice; " Didn't
the gentleman tell you to sit quiet, like the Quakers
themselves. Ye'll give a bad impression to the stran gers, I'm thinking, in regard of politeness."
"And isn't it yourself is making the noise now?"
said another.
"Arrah, now, isn't that too bad? and I only teaching you manners," he answered.
147
a 
148     PUBLIC MEETING AT ENNISCORTHY.
After repeated efforts to obtain silence in vain, one
of the women Friends rose up, and in her soft, sweet
voice, addressed them on the value of the soul, and
the need of a Saviour, the uncertainty of life, and the
value of the Bible. When she resumed her seat, I
was just wondering whether the Quaker phraseology,
in which her ideas were shrouded, would be understood by such an assembly, when I heard a voice close
by me audibly whispering  "She is a fine portly women, God bless her. I
wish somebody would insense me into the meaning of
what she was trying to say."
" I'll tell you," said another voice. " The decent
woman says she has her eye on you, and that you are
a big blackguard, and that you are going hot-foot to
hell; and she does be crying her eyes out about you
and two or three other boys that's going the same
way.
" Oh! then," answered the first speaker, " isn't she
a knowledgeable creature? She knows more about me
than ever I knew about myself. You are clever at the
talk, Tom-will you go and tell her I'm obliged for
the good opinion she has of me? And tell her she
need not be troubling herself about me, for Father
Kelly is my own first cousin; and if I am sent there
itself, he is the boy will get me out cheap."
The other two Friends also preached. Excellent
good advice they gave; but the multitude of words
employed were only suited to those who are initiated
into the manner of Quakerism. To the assembled
L
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SCENE AT THE INN.
auditory there, they might as well have spoken in
Greek.
When little Elizabeth had spoken with much energy
of manner, I overheard the comment on her.
"Go it, little one; but you are a great game hen,
for all you are so weenshe. You got it out very brave;
and I'll give you my blessing, for you meant to be
kind, I see, only you have a queer way of showing it."
I have been at several public meetings.   Those
held in barns and large rooms are generally much the
same in point of solemnity as this was; those held in
Friends' Meeting-houses are more quiet and orderly.
Our chaise was at the door, trunks were packed on
it, and we were taking a snack dinner, when we heard
a loud altercation under the windows.
The English Friend had ordered the horses to be
taken from our carriage and put to his. He travelled
with four, and the number he required was not to be
had; so, without any ceremony, he was for taking
ours. One of the helpers, who happened to know us,
objected to obey the order; and blustering very loudly,
declared he would not "stand by and see the tnglisher lord it over the real gentry that a-way." We ran
to the window to see what was the matter, and soon
perceived how the case was.  "Oh!" said my dear
father, "we shall have to remain in this wretched
place another night."
"And will thee tamely yield to such unheard-of
impertinence?" said my sister.
"Why," he replied, "how can we help it? I did
13'
149 
SCENE AT THE INN.
not think any Friend would do such a thing; but as
he has, of course we must yield."
" Of course, no such thing," she said. " Do thee
sit quietly here, and do not even show thyself at the
window, and I shall go down and manage him."
I was not restricted from looking out, and enjoyed
the scene below with interest. Ellen appeared presently, and demanded.   "What are you taking the
horses off the carriage for?"  "' Tis the English gentleman, ma'am," said our acquaintance, the helper.
" lie says his sister can't travel without four; and
when I told him, first come first served, and that the
master himself owned this pair, he said,'they are a
better pair of horses than those you are putting to my
coach, and I must have them for wheelers;' and more
than that he said, Mliss, that yee's might stay here
till to-morrow, but that it was of consequence for him
and his sister to get on their journey."
John Earl then came forward, smiling, though somewhat ruffled by the unusual occurrence of any one
daring to dispute his orders. 
"Wilt thou please desire this man to put those
horses immediately to our coach?  He has refused to
do so without thy father's orders. Wilt thou give
directions, for my sister is already annoyed by this
delay? Our carriage is heavy, and we cannot get on
without four."
"Oh!" she answered, "you cannot have ours; but
cannot you give a few shillings to one of these men,
and he will go to the fields and get horses in for you?"
150 
SCENE AT THE INAN.
Then turning to the grooims, " Be quick, and fasten
all right again. How dare you unharness our horses
for any one? Be quick, I say."  And quickly indeed
that order was obeyed by the grinning men. But
Friend John was not content.   "I will go speak to
thy father," said he, " I am sure he will not refuse to
accommodate my sister." She laid her hand gently,
but firmly on his arm, and said, " I cannot allow thee
to disturb nay father now; he is at his dinner. Those
horses are mine, thou canst not have them."  "But
I must;" said he, "I have no alternative, for we cannot get on without them." She turned to the grooms,
"D)o not let my carriage be disturbed again," she
said. "Never fear, Miss, never fear," they answered,
"we'll fight for you.  The Englishman shan't roughride it over you, that a-way, and we to the fore."
My sister then turned again to Friend John, and
said, "Is not the scenery of the County Wicklow,
through which you passed, very lovely? The journey
before us is not so interesting. I hope we shall see
you soon in our neighborhood, and that you sill arrange to dine with us. Fix the day and hour to suit
your own convenience, and we will invite a large
company to meet you.  Farewell;" and she glided
away without giving him time to reply.
We saw no more of our Friend John at Enniscorthy.
He was not visible when we started, but his great
heavy coach and pair of horses were in attendance.
The groom, as we got into ours, put his head into
the window and said, "Say the word now, Miss, and
151
— L, 
GREAT FRIENDS VISIT OUR CITY.
I'll tackle them garrons of his on for leaders, in a
jiffy.  Will I Miss, alanna?"  "Oh! no; and off we
drove, my father, dear man, afraid to ask how the
matter had been arranged, glad that it was so, but
quite fearful the Friends might be offended.
A few days after, these same Friends arrived in our
city, and lodged with my uncle. They arrived on a
seventh day afternoon. Their intended visit had been
announced, and every preparation made, that the
kindest hospitality could devise, to give them a cordial
Irish welcome. My uncle was a widower, and although his housekeeper was a clever young woman,
and well skilled in the culinary department, still he
felt greatly burthened with the honor which had been
conferred upon him, in having to entertain these great
Friends. At his request my mother had been all
over his house, to see that the accommodation provided
for them was suitable. Beds of the softest down, and
sheets of the finest Irish linen, were prepared for them;
and a double-bedded room for the two young men,
whom they were in the habit of taking about to swell
their train, and run of their messages.
About seven o'clock that evening, we saw my uncle
hastening up our lawn; and, knowing from his manner,
that something had occurred to ruffle him, my mother
went to meet him.  "Oh!" said he, "what shall I do;
after all, I have not got things right for the Friends,
and I am come to thee to help me. They cannot drink
anything but London porter, and Elizabeth has called
for calf's-foot jelly.  I sent to all the confectioners'
152 
GREAT FRIENDS VISIT OUR CITY.
shops, but there was none to be had; and Debby is
kept running about waiting on them, so that she could
not make it; and, beside that, the butchers have not
got any calves' feet. I sent round to them all to try.
Friend John says he is quite distressed on account of
his sister, as she requires those things, and that they
quite expected to have them at my house, which makes
the disappointment greater to them now."
" Could thee get pigs' feet?" said my mother.
" Oh, yes, in plenty."
" Well then, send me two sets of them, and I'll make
jelly; she will never know the difference. Thee shall
have it by ten o'clock to-morrow, and I would advise
thee to tell the young men, and they will manage the
porter for thee."
He took my sister home with him to make tea for
the Friends, and she told us she had a very pleasant
evening. They were chatty, and communicated much
that was interesting, about the plans formed in London for ameliorating the condition of the poor, and
encouraging women in industry and cleanly habits.
Indeed it was to form a Ladies' Association for this
purpose, that Elizabeth visited our city. She succeeded in doing so, and in forming another Society
for ladies to visit the prisons, and read the Bible to
the prisoners.
It was nine o'clock before the pigs' feet came, and
then we set to work to manufacture them into jelly.
My mother sat up all night, and had her task accomplished by eight o'clock in the morning, when it was
153
r 
ENGLISH FRIENDS.
sent down in a large cut glass dish; and she had soon
after, the pleasure of hearing that the English Friends
said it was the nicest calf's-foot jelly they had ever
tasted.
This was now first day; the Friends were to dine
with us at three o'clock, and to have a Meeting at
seven, to which the town's-people were invited.
A dozen of our acquaintances were invited to meet
the Friends at dinner; and it fell to my lot to stay
from the Morning Meeting, in order to attend to the
needful arrangement of this repast, which was as
choice and abundant as could be provided on so short
a notice. My sister had brought us word the night
before, of the honor intended for us.
The Meeting was over at twelve, as usual; and at
half-past two, up drove the well-known coach, with
its important burden. The ladies were soon seated
in the drawing-room, the gentlemen strolled into the
garden, and the other guests dropped in one after
another. Scarcely had the clock struck three, when
Friend John said to my mother, "Three,,I think, is
the hour for dinner; shall I ring the bell." "Oh! no,"
she replied; "some of our friends have not yet arrived."
He sat down for about two minutes, and then began
again.  "My sister will, I fear, be annoyed; she quite
expected dinner would be ready at three o'clock. We
English Friends are accustomed to be punctual to
time."' "Dinner is quite ready to be served," said
my mother; but we must wait a few minutes for the
guests we have invited to meet you." "Probably they
154 
ENGLISH FRIENDS.
will arrive," he said, "whilst dinner is being placed
on the table. With thy permission, I will ring for
it." And he rose and walked across the room, and
rang the bell.  The butler entered.  "Let dinner be
served," he called out. The man looked amazed, but
withdrew. I went down stairs to tell my sister how
the matter stood. She countermanded the order; and
fearing that the Friends were hungry and suffering,
called one of the "train-young men," and told him to
hand them a glass of wine and a biscuit, to enable
them to fast for about ten minutes longer. "Ah! said
he, "there is not the slightest occasion; as soon as
ever the Meeting was over, they went home, and called
for beef-steak and porter; they all three eat heartily
of that, and jelly besides." Whilst we were speaking,
Friend John himself joined us in the dining-room.
"Really," said he, "I am annoyed.  This want of
punctuality is very trying. My sister's convenience
is sadly disregarded."
Ellen at that moment saw the gentleman we were
waiting for, entering the gate; and at a quarter after
three, Friend John and his sister were satisfying the
desires of the inner man with much apparent enjoyment. As soon as the cloth had been removed, and
the wines and fruits laid on the table, the Friends
dropped into the well-known ominous silence; and one
after another preached a domestic sermon. Then they
regaled on the dessert, and when satisfied, requested
to be shown to bed-rooms, where they might "take a
lay,"' to obviate any tendency to drowsiness in the
155 
ENGLISH FRIENDS.
Evening Meeting. The ladies were immediately accommodated; but we were somewhat surprised, when
the gentleman required the same for himself. His
wants too were supplied, even to a night-cap, and a
shawl to throw over his shoulders; but ere he composed himself to sleep, he gave orders that tea and
coffee should be ready for his sister at half-past five
o'clock.
It was made ready as he wished; and then the three
resumed their seats on the sofas, gracefully arranging
the pillows and stools, and the ample folds of their
drab dresses and shawls, so as to form a pleasing
tableau vivant. There they were served with tea and
coffee; and again we had the satisfaction of thinking
their appetites were not impaired. A plate of bread
and butter, cut, as we thought, thin, being handed to
the little Elizabeth, she helped herself rather superciliously, and then remarked, "Ah! this may pass with
me; but certainly it will not with my sister." One
of the young people took the loaf to cut some thinner
slices for the important lady; and whilst doing so,
Friend John leaning forward, said, "Dost thou not
feel it a privilege to be permitted to cut bread for my
sister?" We were all glad when the weary day was
over; for though we fully appreciated the honor of
having the company, under our own roof, of these
celebrated Friends, still our feelings had been tried,
by the manner in which they had received our attentions.
The next morning the public Societies were organ
156 
ENGLISH FRIENDS.
ized with unparalleled cleverness; and rules and regulations given by Elizabeth herself, in so clear and
concise a manner, that there remained no difficulty
after she had left, in carrying on the system so ad
mirably set going.
We met again at dinner at my uncle's; he had a
very large company assembled in honour of his English guests. At Friends' dinner parties, the fish, soup,
and meat are all served together for the first course.
We had a boiled turkey at the head of the table, and
and a roast loin of veal at the foot; the sides and
centre were covered with every variety of food, dressed in the most appetizing forms. After the usual
momentary silence, which Friends observe, instead of
saying grace, when the covers had been removed, and
the viands exposed to view, Friend John turned round
to my uncle, and said, "I do wish thou had'st told me
what was to be for dinner. My sister always likes
turkey to be roast, and veal boiled. This is really
very unfortunate."  Iis sister, who always looked
greatly pleased when his care for her comforts was
openly shown, said, "Yes; and it might so easily have
been done right; however, I have no doubt, I shall
be able to manage." By this time we had been somewhat accustomed to their oddities; and having often
heard that the English Friends were great boors, we
rather watched for these developments, and laughed
at them.
When the Friends had satisfied their appetites, they
retired "to take a lay," ordering tea, as with us the
14
157
l 
ENGLISH FRIENDS.
day before; for there was to be another public Meeting this evening at seven o'clock. The tea passed over
without any thing particular; but as soon as the great
lady had finished, she dropped into silence. The rest
of the company having only just commenced, no notice
was taken of her; so she rose silently, and with a
stately step walked into the adjoining room, assisted
by her brother's arm, and two or three following, to
proffer any required service. They soon returned, and
said, the dear Friend was under a concern to speak to
my sisters and myself, apart from the rest of the
company. We had been pouring out tea for them,
and had'not tasted any ourselves; but though my
uncle was distressed, that we should be deprived of
what all the others were enjoying, it did not trouble us
much, and we hastened in to the great Friend, whom
we found on the sofa, as usual, in a graceful attitude.
She motioned to each of us where to seat ourselves;
one to an arm-chair, on which her arm carelessly
reposed; another to a spare morsel of the sofa on
which she reclined, and me to a footstool close beside
her. After a momentary pause, she addressed us in
a kind of familiar preaching, and in a low musical
voice. She said, we were a lovely and most interesting trio; she did not blame us for our dress being
somewhat smarter than that of most young Friends;
for she had herself loved dress with an exceeding
love. The time was long past now, but there had
been a time, when she had revelled in all the gay
seductions of fashionable life. She had frequented
158 
ENGLISII FRIENDS.
balls, and theatres, and concerts; she had drained
the cup of earthly pleasure, and could assure us that
it was all delusive; and that having been enabled to
take up her cross, and to surrender to the requirings
of the inward monitor, she had found peace. She had
thought it well to tell us these things; for why should
we wander on in the enjoyment of the blessings of
this life, with which she observed we were surrounded,
and not to be told they were fallacious?  She told
us of her brother's devotion to her-of her brother-inlaw's consequence as a member of Parliament-a good
deal about the wealth of her family-of the happiness she felt in her own mind because of her Quakerism, and of her devotedness to the service of the Lord.
When the address was ended, she presented each of
us with a tract, in which her own name was written,
as a memento of her visit to Ireland; and said sho
hoped, before long, that we might feel a drawing to
attend the London Yearly Meeting.
These important Friends did not remain many days
in our city; and when they were gone, we were told
many anecdotes of their manners and queer ways.
My uncle told us, that when shown to their rooms the
night they arrived, they had felt the beds, as if they
were at a doubtful inn; asked were the sheets clean,
and desired to be shown what other rooms were in
the house, that they might choose which they would
prefer. One of the ladies selected my uncle's own
room for herself, and ordered her trunks to be removed
into it; and as nobody seemed to venture to dispute
159 
ENGLISH FRIENDS.
their wills, he was about to yield to this whim, when
it was found that his room was locked, and the key
not to be found. One of the lads had overheard the
uncourteous order given, and determining that the
kind old man should not be robbed of his night's rest,
had slipped up stairs, locked the room, put the key in
his pocket, and walked out of the house, not returning till they had gone to rest.
In another place they honoured an aunt of mine
with their company, and one day kept dinner waiting
after it had been placed on the table, for more than an
hour, whilst they sent a man on horseback to the
town, to purchase Eau de Cologne, in which to bathe
their faces, after the fatigue of a few hours drive.
We heard many such stories as these. Wherever they
went, their odd conduct formed a strange contrast with
their preaching and praiseworthy endeavours to rouse
the attention of the humane to strenuous efforts for
the benefit of their fellow-creatures.
Friends invariably describe their ministers and exalted members as beings who have attained perfection. They carefully suppress every trait of character which they imagine may bring contempt, or disgrace, or disrepute upon the system and the sect.
Quaker biography is a record of immaculate devotion,
as untrue as it is uninteresting. Sin and frailty are
inherent in mortality.  You might as well expect a
picture to be beautiful, if the light and brilliant foreground was unrelieved by shade and shadow, as expect
a sinful mortal to profit by, or appreciate the example
160
t
i 
LADIES' SOCIETY.
of a fellow-sinner, who is represented as freed from
those imperfections which we all know and feel to be
inseparable from humanity.
It is a great comfort to the soul which is battling
with temptations to know, that the best men who ever
breathed the breath of this life, have been overtaken
by them; and the exquisitely pathetic stories recorded
by sacred writers of their fall, and of the compassionate mercy which again raised them up, and kept
them until the end, is so corroborative of the Christian's own experience, that he derives hope from the
darkest trials, and looking on them as having been,
like himself, deeply dyed in sin, like them, too, he
hastens to wash, and make himself white in the blood
of the Lamb.
My mother entered with much spirit and energy
into the management of the Ladies' Societies now
formed in our city.  One large district was allotted
to her and six other ladies. They, however, soon fell
off, and the whole care devolved on her, and I was
her assistant. Several hundred poor women, were
employed in manufacturing flax and wool. Their
houses were whitewashed, and frequent visits paid
them.  No religious instruction was allowed to be
given; and, therefore, I have no doubt it was, that
after several years of most arduous endev6n,rs to
improve their condition, no benefit was found to result from them. God was not honoured, and, therefore, His blessing was not on our work.
Once a month, a Committee, composed of all the
14*
161
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VISITING GAOLS.
ladies from all the districts, was held.  They were of
all creeds and sects. The Bishop's lady generally
presided. Friend Elizabeth's views were carried out
to the letter. No pains, no trouble was spared;
every thing that could be devised was strenuously
done,'to promote the temporal benefit of the poor.
Alas  it was all in vain.  I do not believe that one
single individual was raised in the moral scale by all
our efforts.
In the Society for visiting the gaols, and reading
the Scriptures to the prisoners, we had far more comfort. The result of our labours there may not be
revealed until the Judgment Day. What was done
was certainly a step in the right direction. Both the
women and men to whom we read seemed greatly
pleased and interested in what was to them a great
novelty-the simple word of Scripture. Anty Whelan, who had perjured herself in her defeated attempt
to ruin my dear brother, was one of my daily auditors; and I have seen the tears course each other
down her cheek, and beheld the glistening eyes of
many others, as they listened to the tale of Jesus'
love to man.   Several of the prisoners being unable
to comprehend the English language, one other lady,
a Quakeress, and myself, learned Irish sufficiently
well to be able to read the Testament to them. But
our work here, too, was but short-lived. The Roman
Catholic Priests made a complaint to the Government
that we were proselytizing, and an order was forthwith issued, prohibiting us from visiting the gaols.
169 
QUAKER SCRUPLES.
We incurred censure in another quarter also. The
overseers of our Meeting visited, and remonstrated with
us on the great danger which, they said, we incurred,
in mixing with "people of the world," under the specious idea that we were doing good to our fellowcreatures. They said, that "Friends had best stay
quietly away from mixing up."  They said, "It was
not becoming for my mother, the head of a large family, to sit in a Committee by the side of the Bishop's
wife: that to countenance her, in any way at all, was
indirectly to countenance the hireling ministry of her
husband; and they wondered greatly that a Friend
could so far deviate from the principles of our Society
as to do so." Besides this they said, "There was a
great snare to young people, in looking on the gay
dresses of those worldlings who attended the Ladies'
Committees, and that my mother had much to answer
for, in exposing her daughter to such a temptation."
And then they reminded us, "That it was impossible
for us to be consistent, and sit quietly by while the
Bishop's wife would open the Committee, by,saying,
'Ladies met, May 13, 1827.' Surely it was a forsaking of our testimony against the heathen names of
the days and months of the year." And another
reason why they warned us to give up these associations was, that "Evil communications corrupt good
manners;" and sometimes Friends were so led away
as to forget themselves, and adopt the language of
the world. It was a very deplorable truth, that now a-days our young people were becoming unguarded.
163
ll 
QUAKER SCRUPLES.
It was no uncommon thing to hear them say " you,"
and "ma'am;" and the heads of families would do
well to consider were they guiltless in this matter,
especially when they themselves countenanced the
young, in associating with those by whom they were
so liable to be betrayed into a forgetfulness of our
Christian peculiarities."
We had to endure very many of these visits. They
threatened to bring us under dealing for this matter,
but did not. We gave them, as usual, cake and wine,
and were most civil and condescending; and then, as
the Friend who established those Societies was herself
a preacher in good esteem in London, they were fearful of overstraining the discipline, although they took
good care to tell us that there were many points in
which they did not feel full unity with her.
Some of us knew well, that even the great Elizabeth
was not sufficiently orthodox to please our plain
Friends. It had been whispered about as a great
secret, even during the Dublin Meeting, that the
overseers had visited her on the impropriety, of wearing a silk gown, the Irish women preachers having
hitherto refrained from silk. IHairbine, stuff, and
Irish tabinet, were their approved materials for dress.
Now, however, this is altered. The preachers now
wear silk; and perhaps few ladies moving in the fashionable circles of life can boast of a greater number
of silk dresses, or of more costly fabric either, than
they, whose colours, however, are confined to either
1k
164 
DIFFICULTY OF BEING CONSISTENT.
drab, or very dark shades of purple, brown, and
green.
It is really a very difficult thing for a Quaker to
be consistent with his own principles; and even the
most rigid are often found swallowing them wholesale.
For instance, the vain adorning of the person with
dress, jewelry, and gold. He considers it a sin to
indulge in those things, and yet in his shop he sells
them. He makes his money by providing for the sins
of his fellow-Christians. He deems it a right thing
to wear a broad brim to his hat, but he has no scruple
about making and selling hats of a fashionable form
for his fellow-Christians to wear. He would not be
so wicked as to dress his servant up in livery, with a
gold band, &c., but in the way of business he will do
it for another.  If the "peculiarities" are essential to
the salvation of a Quaker, are they not also essential
for all Christians?  Can it be that "Friends" sell
and deal in those forbidden things, because they think
"the people of the world" have no chance of salvation at all, and that, therefore, it signifies bu! little
what they indulge in, so that Friends profit by it?
165
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LONDON YEARLY MEETING.
CHAPTER IX.
London Yearly Meeting-Various concerns brought before the Wo men's Meeting-Bible read in public, and the reader sent to the
Mad-house-Great Dinner  at Mildred  Court-Awful Sermon King George IV.-Frustrated attempt to penetrate the mysteries of
the Women's Meeting.
I HAD often expressed a wish to attend the London
Yearly Meeting: for as our Quarterly Meetings were
inferior to the Dublin Yearly Meeting, so the Dublin
was considered, in comparison to the London. I
wished very much to know how the affairs of the Society were managed in the great annual assembly, to
which all the smaller Meetings were subordinate; and
my father, with his invariable kindness, resolved to
gratify my desire. He was appointed one of the Irish
representatives, so that my sister and I, accompanying him, had all the opportunities which such good
credentials generally bestow.
We had a week only to prepare for the journey,
and the Friend who made our bonnets, knowing that
she was of unrivalled skill in manufacturing that elaborate costume, and being withal somewhat crazy,
was, with great difficulty, prevailed on to have ours
ready in time.  True, we had plenty of other bonnets,
166 
LONDON YEARLY MEETING.
but no respectable Friend ever goes to a Meeting
without having, at least, one complete suit, quite new.
The rich plain Friends, generally, have a different
suit for every day the Meeting lasts. They think it
derogatory to wear the same dress two days consecutively. We were not so particular; not being so plain
as others, it did not signify for us, but still going to
London was an event of no small moment; and preparation was unsparingly made for it. We crossed
in the steam-packet to Milford, and had on board one
of the great London preachers, and her daughters,
with two Englishmen Friends. They were returning,
after attending the Dublin Meeting. We had no previous acquaintance with them beyond a mere formal
introduction; and as they were not remarkably prepossessing, either in manner or appearance, we kept
aloof on the voyage, merely sharing with them the
contents of our well-stocked hamper of eatables.
On arriving at Milford, we were met by a Friend,
who, grateful for some kindness he had received at
our house, where he had been carefully attended during a tedious illness, some time before, now hastened
to welcome us, and had his car at the shore ready to
convey us to his house, where he said, dinner was prepared, and accommodation for the night, if we would
accept it. The dinner was accepted, but we wished
to proceed a few stages further on.
When this kind and hospitable man had assisted
us to get our luggage landed, he proceeded to conduct us to his car, but Friend Grubly, and her
167 
LONDON YEARLY MEETING.
daughters had been before him, and taken possession
of it for themselves. He was exceedingly annoyed,
and told them they must, at least, make room for us.
They refused to do so, and said they wished to have
their trunks beside them. Our Friend, Paul, then
said to one of the daughters: "Wilt thou look amongst
those trunks, and see which is thine?"   She got out
of the car to do so, and immediately Friend Paul actually lifted me in, shut the door, and ordered the
driver to go on. My father and sister had preferred
walking. I had suffered from sea sickness, and was
not well able to do so; but, indeed, my drive was not
over pleasant, for my two companions were somewhat
unamiable towards me, and loud in their anger that
Paul should have left their dear Hannah  to walk.
However, she and the rest of the party soon after arrived, and peace was restored by the happy good
humour of Paul and his wife. Just before we sat
down to dinner, Friend Grubly said to my father,
"Dost thou intend to proceed towards London tonight?"  He answered "Yes;" and she then hurried
out of the room. An hour after dinner was over, the
London coach drove up to the door, and she said, in
a triumphant way, "My daughters and I have engaged three inside seats; two of you must travel outside, for I will not consent to be crowded."   "We
are not going by the coach," said he; "we travel post."
"Oh! dear," said she, "if I had known that, I need
not have sent the young man away from his dinner
to secure the places. Thou should'st have told me."
r
168
r_ - 
LONDON YEARLY MEETING.
We had a delightful journey, posting with four
horses, all the way from Milford to London; stopping
a few hours or minutes at the different stages, as inclination led us. In these rail-road days, nobody
thinks of travelling by post. A rapid transit is now
the only desideratum. A place may have historical
interest, or legendary renown, or the scenery may
be transcendently lovely, but who, now-a-days, cares
for such things? It is only puff, puff, whizz, whizz,
and away with speed to the journey's end.   The
romance of travel is lost and gone; and with it, man
has lost one of the purest and most refined enjoyments
of this life.
The lamps were lighted when we entered London.
The extent amazed, and the noise confused me; the
enormous wagons and the ponderous horses astonished
me; and the long unbroken line of carriages we met
led me to think that the Londoners buried their dead
in the evening, and that these were the long funeral
trains we were so constantly encountering.
A lodging had been engaged for us in Bishopsgate
Street, near the Meeting-house in Devonshire Square.
It was over an apothecary's shop, and redolent with
all the abominable smells that could be exhaled from
a vast accumulation of unsavory drugs; and morning, noon, and night, the monotonous sound of the
pestle and mortar, was heard, thump, thump away.
The Friend who had taken this lodging for us, told
me, that the smell we so complained of, was the great
recommendation to her taste, in selecting them for us.
15
169
p 
LONDON YEARLY MEETING.
The great London annoyances, she said, disliked the
smell of an apothecary's shop, as much as ourselves;
and therefore it was probable we might be able to
sleep in peace at nigh. We were in a humour to be
content with discomforts; to enjoy every thing that
was intended to please us; to relish all that was novel
or strange; and, I may add, we anticipated that the
Meeting we had come so far to attend, would prove
of incalculable benefit to our moral welfare.   The
Irish preachers did not stand high in our estimation;
and we anxiously wished to hear the English, of whose
celebrity we had often been told.
The first Meeting we attended was in Gracechurch
Street, and we had no less than seven sermons in the
two hours it lasted; one short one from a man Friend,
the rest all women. One of the women spoke three
times. All were much in the same strain; the speakers' feeling of the deep importance of the Yearly
Meeting-of the willingness of the Lord to own it,
and of the necessity for us all to be silent in the soul,
as well as in the body. 
After meeting, there was a great shaking of hands,
and greetings. We were recognised by one or two,
and then introduced to very many, who kindly invited
us to their houses, telling us a table was laid at a
certain hour every day, and that we were welcome to
come and partake as often as we pleased.  We thanked
them. It is not very flattering to be allowed to go
dine with the Friends, instead of the Irish mode of
requesting the pleasure of our company; but there
170 
LONDON YEARLY MEETING.
was the charm of novelty in it at any rate. As my
father had been more cordially invited by one of the
men Friends, a preacher, we went with him and his
family. They were very rich people. A company of
twenty-two assembled-eighteen of us were females.
The table laid would have accommodated more
Friends; and the fare provided was good and plentiful; but to our eyes it looked queer. At the top of
the table was a fine salmon and lobster sauce; near
it, in the middle of the table, was a dish of cut bread;
then the long stretch was quite bare to the very end,
at which was placed, as close as ever the dishes could
be to each other, an enormous surloin of roast beef,
a huge round of boiled beef, a large Westphalian ham,
and a fine leg of mutton. The women were all at the
top of the table, the men in a group at the bottom.
Our host Cornelius, informed us, that he had adopted
that arrangement of his table, because it was so convenient for the men to carve; and he liked to see his
female Friends sitting in the upper seats. We had
no pastry, pudding, or wine. When the cloth was
removed, coffee was served up, and then we hurried
off to Meeting again, at Devonshire House.   Oh!
what a crowd was assembled in the yard and hall.
We used to think the men Friends lining the vestibule
in Dublin, to stare at us, as we came in and out of
Meeting, an annoyance; but it was nothing to compare to the English men. They stared and pushed,
and without any introduction, would catch hold of
171
iw
?9 
LONDON YEARLY MEETING.
one's hand, and shake it, and ask our names, with
the most outrageous rudeness.
The pushing and driving to get seats was quite an
ordeal to get through. We could not manage it, and
were consequently left standing at the door. Two
of our English acquaintances saw us, and every day
after, of the two weeks the Meeting lasted, they contrived to meet us outside, and taking us, one each,
under her care, regularly fought the way for us to
the foremost and best seats. At the second Meet
ing, we had sermons from three men, and no women
at all-a most unusual circumstance; but so it was.
The subject of one of them was-" The true foundation, which was from the beginning of creation to the
close of time, and which would lead to a happy eternity." He enlarged much on the subject, but omitted
to mention what the true foundation was. It is possible that he did not know; for Friends despise what
they contemptuously term, "head knowledge."
Our Women's meetings for Discipline were the
same as in the Dublin Meetings, only larger, a greater
number of rcpresentatives, from different places, and
consequently more answering of queries; frequent
preachings on the deficiencies reported in the observance of our rules, and admonitions largely administered for our future conformity to the discipline of
the Society, which we were often told,'"our worthy
predecessors had been enabled, in best wisdom, to give
forth."
One Friend was concerned on the subject of Mem
172 
LONDON YEARLY MEETING.
hers "deviating from simplicity, by affixing Mr. and
Mrs. to names, and thereby opening a door for further
departure from our first principles." Another "was
impressed," she told us, "in a very remarkable manner, with a view of the wasting and destruction in our
borders, by Friends allowing themselves'latitude in
apparel.'" Five others also spoke on the same subject, and pathetically deplored "the inroad which the
enemy was making upon us, because of our unfaithfulness, and reluctance to bear this, our cross, in the
eyes of the world." Two of these last orators found
the burden of this matter so heavy on their minds,
that they resigned themselves to the duty of going
into the Men's Meeting, sitting hard by, there to impart similar admonition.
One had to inform us that the painful burden of her
spirit, was because of the deficiency reported in our
peculiar language.   "The thee and thou; yes, the
thee and thou; it was a stumbling-block to many."
And yet she said, "it was the distinctive mark, that
we were the Lord's people. It was declared in Holy
Writ, that the Lord's called and peculiar people were
a little flock, a people of a plain language." She
dwelt a good deal on "the duty of mothers to enforce
this language on their children, and if need be, to
chasten the rebellious."
The propriety of regularly attending Meetings for
both worship and discipline, was "spoken to;" and
the advantage which would result, if in "' the Meetings
for Discipline, Friends would try to sit in a waiting
15*
173
_r 
174   CONCERNS BEFORE WOMEN' S MEETING.
state of mind; not absorbed by the business, but in
quietness and stillness; then we should find that some
amongst us would be raised up, and empowered to
offer, it might be, a word in season."
Another hoped "Friends would be careful to regulate their domestic avocations, so that their youth, and
that important class amongst them, their apprentices,
might not be hindered from duly attending Meetings;"
and advised that shops and places of business should
be closed during the hours of Meeting on week-days,
expressing her "conviction that no ultimate lessening
of income would result from the apparent sacrifice of
time." She spoke very impressively of the duty which
man owed to God, and of the great error of allowing
temporal affairs to engross the entire attention. She
then went into the Men's Meeting, and laid the same
subject, I was told, very weightily before them.
There was a tall, elderly spinster, who very often
"spoke to the Discipline." She had a marvellous
flow of words. Sometimes, without pausing, she could
keep on speaking for an hour at a time.   Her "concerns" were numerous, and she united with, and had
something to say on the "concerns" of everybody
else. Some departures from our rules having been
reported by different representatives, on the head of
marrying out of Meeting, this spinster Friend had much
to say in reprobation of the evil. It was very evident
she had no sympathy for the transgressors. She marvelled "how any one could so far forget themselves,
or yield to temptation, as to be drawn away from the
r' 
CONCERNS BEFORE WOMEN'S MEETING.
high privileges which they enjoyed as members, permitting themselves to be joined in marriage with
strange men, and thereby sanctioning an hireling
ministry."  She said, "That wasting and destruction
to families had grievously resulted from this evil; and
that she had known instances where the transgressor
had irretrievably lost her own peace of mind from
it."  She said, "To her mind it seemed an indelicate
thing for a young female Friend, who had been brought
up in our habits, and who was accustomed to associate
with our worthies in Meetings and elsewhere, to resign
herself to the company of those without our pale.
People of the world could not be expected to appreciate our customs; and once united to one of them, our
dress and our speech must be resigned. A wife was
bound to due obedience to her hushand; and these
things, which they thought little things, (because too
often the light that was in them was darkness,) were
obliged to be given up for peace sake; and thus it
was, when the hedge was broken down, the wild boar
of the wilderness found an easy access, and the adversary triumphed."
There was much said about slavery, and the women
and men united in getting up an address to Parliament
on the subject. There was also much consultation
about receiving an epistle from one of the American
Meetings, which it was reported  had become New
Light or Unitarian in its principles. This was left to
a Committee to investigate, and we were only told
that it was judged better not to receive that dubious
175
l 
176   CONCERNS BEFORE WOMEN'S MEETING.
epistle; not to read it in our Meetings, but to return
it, which was accordingly done; and both we, and the
Men's Meeting also, were cautioned "not to indulge
in any conversation on the subject, nor to seek for information about it, as those who were best able to
judge had been enabled to do so very wisely."
Drawing up answers to the accepted epistles was,
as usual, entrusted to Committees. One day there was
what is called an Open Committee, and the young
Friends were invited, and indeed urged to attend it.
I went with several others; but after long sitting, and
nothing done, one of the Friends at the table said, it
was not easy to transact the business when so many
were present, as it was needful to converse on it; and
she therefore proposed that the old plan, of a small
number of Friends, of mature understanding, should
undertake the business in the usual way-a room by
themselves. We had several testimonies for departed
Friends, preachers of course. None others are thus
honoured; and as they are all "inspired ministers,"
or they would not have been in our galleries, so also,
of course, their ministrations are commemorated in
those laudatory records.
We had two Meetings every day for two weeks; and
the subjects I have mentioned were scattered over all
that time. Each was dwelt on with all the solemnity
which was becoming to an assemblage which gravely
asserted, and the majority of whom undoubtedly believed, they were listening to admonitions which the
speakers were under the immediate inspiration of the
z —;,
W-, 
CON-CERNS BEFORE WOMEN'S MEETING.
Holy Spirit in giving forth. We had five visits from
men Friends, two or three at a time. One of them had
travelled to the Ionian Islands, and was grieved at
witnessing the degrading worship of saints and images.
He advised that large numbers of Friends' tracts
should be sent out there, and said, that he had "reason
to believe that both in Spain and Portugal a door was
opened for usefulness in the same way."
One day, at the close of the Morning Meeting, we
were informed that some of our Friends in the ministry
were under a concern to have a Meeting that evening,
in the large room, for the youth, male and female, and
that it was not desirable that any over thirty-five years
of age should attend. I went with the other young
people, and was led to think that the English atmosphere had some marvellous power to make people look
old. Those juveniles of thirty-five actually looked, for
the most part, over fifty; but a friend informed me,
that unmarried Friends never grow older than thirtyfive.
In the Meetings for worship, which were frequent
during the session, we had a great deal of preaching
from all the best ministers, men and women, in the
Society. Our old acquaintance, Joseph John, was, to
our mind, infinitely superior to any one else. He
rarely descended to the peculiarities of the Society,
but preached of faith, and hope, and love. His quotations from Scripture were correct; and, by the way,
we may remark, that is a very unusual accomplishment in our ministers. They very often commit slight
verbal inaccuracies: sometimes more serious ones.
177
v.
I 
BIBLE READ IN PUBLIC.
One day we went to the Borough Meeting-house,
and there, to our extreme surprise, an elderly man
Friend rose in the gallery to address us; and, drawing from his pocket a small Bible, he commenced
reading a chapter in the Gospels; that ended, he
spoke on the subject, as he told us, "not by inspirationl, but in the simple manner in which a schoolmaster would address his pupils." The elders and
overseers became very fidgetty on his saying this,
and soon made him sit down; and when he repeated
his attempt to speak, they broke up the Meeting. A
few days after, I heard he had been sent for care to
a Friends' Mad-house. Whether he had ever shown
any other symptoms of madness, I never heard. We
asked repeatedly, and one very plain Friend, to whom
I put the question, for I felt so sorry for the poor
man, answered me: " Surely thou must know, every
one knows, that a man must be mad who would read
the Bible aloud in our Meeting."
The parting Meeting was very large; to get in we
had to undergo such pushing, squeezing an,d jostling,
as I never met any where else in all my life. One
great, tall awkward Friend, from Wales, with a preposterous broad brim, held his umbrella horizontally
out from his chest, and so cleared a path for himself
and some women, who held fast by him. An acquaintance of mine was cruelly wounded in the arm by a
prod of that umbrella; and I heard the man several
times boasting of what an excellent plan he had contrived for getting through the crowd.
178
r
I I 
GREAT DINNER AT MILDRED COURT.
As we were of some consequence, it soon became
remarked that we had not availed ourselves of the
permission given us by so many Friends, to go and
take dinner at their houses. We were spoken to about
it, and when we said, that we considered as those
offers were made to us as a matter of convenience, and
as we did not stand in need of any such, having very
comfortable dinners at our own apartments, it was of
no importance to any one but ourselves. We were
told that it was our Irish pride, and that we had given
offence. There were some who would not wish it to
be said, that a representative from Ireland, and his
daughters, had not been entertained at their houses.
Hannah Smith, a very nice English girl, an old acquaintance of ours, was especially commissioned to
bring us to one of these dinners, given by the great
Elizabeth, at her own house. As she had so recently
been our guest in Ireland, Hannah urged us very
much to go with her; but we told her, whatever was
worth having was worth asking for; and if Friend
Stately wished for our company, she might take the
trouble to invite us, and then we would go.  "Ah!"
said Hannah, "I told her already, that you, Irish,
had ideas of etiquette quite different from us; and
that I feared, unless either she, or one of her daughters invited you, you would not come for me. She
said,'she could not understand that anything more
was needed, than to let you know that she kept open
house during the Meeting; that her table was spread
daily for upwards of fifty.' Do come," said Hannah.
179
W
0
.if. 
180     GREAT DINNER AT MILDRED COURT.
"very likely not one of the family will speak to you;
but it would never do to say you had not been to
Mildred Court." However, we would not go; but
coaxed Hannah, instead, to stop with us; and a very
pleasant little repast we had, half lunch, half dinner,
my father having brought, as usual, two or three
of our men Friends to join us. We had quite as
much of all the passing news of the Meeting as we
wanted. What report of her non-success Hannah
gave, I don't know; but two days after, a livery servant was sent with a polite note from Friend Stately
herself, requesting the pleasure of our company to
dine with her in three days' time. We accepted that
invitation, and went.
There were eighty-two guests assembled in two
large badly furnished rooms. No lady presided to
receive us; we were conducted by our friend Hannah
into the room, and with difficulty got chairs. There
were more than a dozen standing by the door, who
had no seats at all. About five minutes before dinner was announced, the portly mistress of the mansion
entered the room, leaning on her brother's arm. She
did not take the slightest notice of us, or of any one
else; but swept across the room to the uppermost
sofa, which was immediately vacated for her, the former occupants retreating to the group at the door.
When seated comfortably, her pillows and footstool
arranged, and her two daughters, who had followed
her into the room, also settled toher mind, she looked
round, and nodded to one, and smiled at another.
rI" 
GREAT DINNER AT MILDRED COURT.
At length her eye fell on me, and she beckoned me
to come over to her.  I did so; and had the honour
of a cordial shake hands, and a most gracious welcome to her house, and to the London Mleeting, and
to England in general.  She then introduced me to
her daughters, one of whom slipped her arm inside
mine, and re-conducted me to my seat. My sister
underwent the same ceremony, and then my father
was summoned in his turn. She was very polite to
him, and actually made room for him to sit beside
her on the sofa.
Dinner was announced, and the lady and her brother took the lead.  The women Friends, with here
and there a venturous man, next forced themselves
on, each trying to get foremost. My father made
his way through the crowd over to ius, and held nay
sister and myself on his arms. We whispered to
each other what a strange scene it was, and waited
till the crush had passed us by; then we followed into
the dining-roomn. Two long tables were laid, and both
were quite filled; and at the first, at which the great
Friend herself presided, the work of demolition had
commencedcl.  A gentleman at the foot of the second
table spied us standing outside the door, jumped up,
and quickly and unceremoniously sweeping away three
men, he handed us to their seats, and bade them wait
until another table was prepared for them.  We re monstrated.  "'Oh "  said he,  "never mind them,
they know how to take care of themselves."  The
fare at our table was only middling in quality, and
16
181
r 
GGREAT DIN'NNER AT MILDRED COURT.
very scanty in quantity. Half a salmon at the head,
and a roast leg of lamb at the foot, a small dish of
potatoes, and a large silver basket of cut stale bread,
was all provided for twenty-five people. The old
Friend who carved the lamb was very facetious. He
reckoned heads.  "Twenty-five," said he, "and the
men will surely ask for two helps. I wish I had a
compass, to cut it even, share and share for all. A
thin slice will do for the females; they sometimes
like to be thought delicate in their appetites; so I can
only hope, now, they may feel flattered at my supposing them to give a preference to a delicately cut
morsel."  What was at the best table I do not know,
but believe it was more plentiful, as one of the young
men who was dining in another room with the residue
of the guests, told me, that when the dishes in our
room were carried out, they were taken possession of
by one of their scouts, and that on one of them there
was a bit of beef.  It was not firom our table that
went; we sent nothing away.
Dinner over, one of the daughters came over to
me, and said, would I like "to take a lay?"-that
there were four bedrooms open for Friends, and if I
would go quick, before the crowd, I could be accommodated.  Her mother had gone, and she was going,
"it was so refreshing before the Evening Meeting."
Curiosity induced me to accompany her up stairs, and
indeed it was to me a novel sight, to see from three
to four dozen women Friends crowded together in the
)bedrooms, some anxiously searching out their bonnets
182 
GREAT DINNER AT MILDRED COURT.
and shawls, some eagerly securing for themselves a
place on the beds " to take a lay," and some, like
myself, swelling the throng, for the sake of looking
at the ludicrous anxiety of the others. When we left,
there were seventeen stretched on the beds, and two
humble-Lminded young women on the floor, seeking
their accustomed antidote to drowsiness in the Evening Meeting.   Our repast had not been so heavy as
to make us dread any danger of transgressing the
query. On the contrary, it had been so very sparing,
that we complained of actual hunger to my father,
who confessed to the same himself; and, therefore,
we hurried to our own lodging to get a bit of dinner.
As we were going out of the house, we met three
young men of our acquaintance, and one lady, and
said,' "Where are you hurrying to? Come with us."
They hesitated a moment, and then said, "The fact
is, we scarcely got a bit of dinner, and we are going
to a confectioner's to get something to eat."  So,
finding we were all of the same mind, they came with
us, and we had an impromptu dinner, far more plentiful and merrier than the much-talke(d-of affair at
which eighty people were assembled, that it might
be said, suchl vast numbers were daily entertained at
Mlildred Court.  Before leaving London, we received
an invitation to dine at the coiuntry-house of these
great Friends; but the specimen wee had had of their
style of enterttainment suLfficed us, and we declined
the honouir.  My aunt was invited at the same time.
She went, and told me afterwards, that it was quite
188
ik 
AWFUL SERMON.
a different affair from the Mildred Court dinner. She
said, they had a sumptuous entertainment, well served,
with abundance of plate, glass, &c. &c., and half a
dozen livery servants to attend, and that very few of
the guests were Friends.   There were Members of
Parliament, a Baronet, and two I-Ionourables; and
the portly mistress was the graceful, entertaining,
courteous, ladyv-like hostess; not the haughty, supercilious woman she had been to us, who seemed as if
she thought herself very condescending to sit for a
few minutes in the same room, or breathe the same
air with us.
We dined at another Friend's house, with a very
large company, and had a most plentiful repast, as,
indeed, we had wherever we went, with only the one
exception; but these great companies were not pleasant; and having satisfied our curiosity, with four or
five of them, we refused to join any more. The English Friends are not nearly so polite or so well-mannered as the Irish; they push and drive to get the
best seats for themselves, stretch across you at dinner,
help themselves, and think not of others; and except
of the Meeting, they had scarcely any other topic to
converse on.
What Meeting wast thou at yesterday?"
I was at Devonshire house.  Elizabeth Dilmana
was very large in the ministry; and we had quite an
awful sermon from Sarah Wormley."
"Indeed  dost thou recollect it?  I should so like
to hear it."
184 
AWFUL'.SERMON.
" Oh! thou knowest we are advised not to speak of
those things."
"Well, I know we are in general; but thou says it
was an awful sermon.  Do tell me; wilt thou not?"
"She said, our Society had fallen very low; and
that as we had deserted the cross which was given us
to bear, we might look for the time that the cross would
be taken from us and given to those who were now
as the offscouring of the earth; that we would be
sifted, as gold and silver, in the furnace of affliction,
and that all the dross and reprobate silver would be
cast out; that we had been tried and found wanting.
A small burden had been given us to bear-even a
peculiar dress, and a peculiar language; and that we
had kicked against it; and that unless there was a
returning to first principles, and an humble dedication
of self, a keeping down of the risings up of the worldly
spirit, which was laying waste our borders, she was
bold to say we would be cast out as a brand fit for
the firing.  She said, it was a vain thing to deceive
ourselves with false notions-to imagine we ha,d more
light than our worthy predecessors. She knew there
were reasoners afloat-proudl boasters-Bible readers
-people who met together to study the Scriptures.
They might read the Bible from Genesis to Revela tion, and yet be in darkness. It was only Christ in
you, the light in you, that can lead you into right eousness; and be assured, that true light will never
lead any one into a joining with the vain customs of
this wicked world.  She said, the Bible should never
16*
18 o
r'; —
r_ 
AIAWFUL SERMON.
be read, but in a prepared spirit-in the spirit of
prayer; for' the letter killeth.' That her words
might seem harsh; but she did not wish to be a prophet speaking smooth things; for the time was fast
coming, when there would be a shaking of the dry
bones, an emptying of the whitened sepulchres. The
cry was already going forth-Who is on the Lord's
side, who?  And the day of battle would be a day of
clouds, and gloominess, and sorrow."
" Oh! I wish I had been there; that sermon was
worth hearing.  I was at Gracechurch Street, and we
had only four very third-rate sermnons-just Friends
easing their own minds."
" Dost thou know many of the Friends here today."
" Yes, I know almost all of them; that elderly
couple on the sofa are bride and bridegroom; she is
seventy-two, he is sixty-eight.  Look how lovingly he
holds her hand in his.  Is it not pleasant to see how
the tender feelings of youth outlive the decay of
years?"
" Yes, it is pleasant to see that even the stiffest and
starchest amongst us can relax their gravity sometimes.  That dear aged couple look as happy, as loveing, and as self-absorbed, as if they were actually in
love -with each other."
"And so they are.  No  young bride could take
more pains to select a becoming and costly dress than
our Friend yonder. Look close at her cap, and thou
wiilt see it is miade of Indian muslin, and cost a guinea
186
r 
KING GEORGE IV.
a yard; her gown is of the richest and softest French
silk, and her petticoat matches it.  His raiment also,
is all super-superior, from his grey silk stockings, and
gold knee-buckles, up to his fine cambric cravat. But
he has long had a concern not to wear cotton, on account
of the slavery question; neither does he eat sugar.
He is fond of sweets; but puddings and pies, and
tea, and coffee, must all be sweetened with honey for
him."
This was the general style of conversation at the
London Yearly Meeting convivial parties-what had
passed in the Meetings, or talking about the people
present.
I was shown in the Women's Meeting-room, the
seat on which his Majesty, King George IV. when
Prince Regent, had for a moment placed himself, when
led by the spirit of adventure, and, as my informant
stated, a most unbecoming curiosity, he had, disguised
as a woman Friend, made his way into the secret conclave. His dress was all right; a grey silk gown, a
brown cloth shawl, a little white silk handkerchief,
with hemmed edge, round his neck, and a very well
poked Friend's bonnet, with the neatly crimped border of his clear muslin cap tied under the chin, completed the disguise, in which he might have escaped
detection very well, were it not for the tell-tale boots,
and the unfeminine position in which the arms and
legs bestowed themselves. The young women who
sat behind him, and saw the heel protruding from its
silken robe, slipt quietly out of Meeting and gave the
187 
KING GEORGE IV.
alarm.   Two men Friends were speedily summoned,
and the Royal intruder felt himself gently tapped on
the shoulder, and requested to walk into another room.
He made no resistance, but quietly went away; and
receiving the usual notice, that the rules of the Society
would not allow any but members to be present, he
retired, and calling a hackney coach, drove off, perhaps flattering himself that his incognito had not been
penetrated; for although his countenance had been
instantly recognized, still nothing was said to intimate
that it had been so.  Resolute that none but the initiated should be present, they were yet careful to
treat with courtesy their most unexpected visitant,
and even deferentially to respect his assumed character.
188 
HAT WORSHIP.
CIIAPTER X.
Hat WVorship-Marriage Ceremony-English Customs-Ignorance of
Friends-Method of paying tithes-Tribute of respect to the Es ta)lished Church-Advice about dealing exclusively with Friends
-Evidences-Venerable-looking men chosen to sit in the galleries
-Committing the Scriptures to memory, for the sake of repeating
in Meeting, forbidden.
WE remained in London for six weeks after the
Meeting had ended, seeing all the wonderful and interesting sights of that vast city. We had to go by
ourselves to Westminster Abbey, and to St. Paul's, on
account of the annoyance which results from Friends'
testimony against taking off the hat going into a place
of worship, or even a private room, which they call
c hat worship."  We could not prevail on any of our
men Friends to accompany us to these places.  It is
not pleasant when a man feels that he is displaying a
moral courage, which it has cost him much to acquire,
in upholding the manifestation of his own peculiar
views, to have that lofty feeling of self-satisfaction
rudely dashed to the ground, by the hand of a Verger
quietly and gently removing in silence, and as a matter of course, the hat, the broad-brimmed hat, which
he wears as a symbol that hlie is separated, by peculiar holiness, from the "people of the world." An
189 
HAT WORSHIIP.
officer being appointed to take off the hat of a Friend,
in courts of law, churches, &c. &c. is, I believe, the
very greatest cross which Quakers have, in reality, to
bear now-a-days.   It is, such a ridiculously simple
termination of all their scruples on the subject, and it
is so entirely impossible to object to it, that it makes
the mortification complete.   The young Quakers, for
the most part, do violence to their conscience, rather
than submit to the humiliation.
We went to the Jews' Synagogue, and there our
escort was most courteously treated. In the Synagogue no " hat worship" is allowed. If you take off
your hat, some Jew will oblige you either to put it on
again, or to go out of the house.
I was one day greatly amused, by watching a very
plain man Friend, who was paying us a morning visit.
It was a hot summer's day, and he had walked a long
distance.  He came into our room, as all orthodox
Friends do, with his broad brim on, shook hands, and
sat down. After bearing his testimony thus for a few
minutes, he took off the hat, and laid it gn the floor
beside him. We were chatting away, when a loud
rap at the door announced some more visitors. Friend
Hugh in a great hurry popped on his hat, lest any
one should see him "shirking, his testimony."  As
soon as he had satisfied himself that his orthodoxy
was sufficiently manifested, he yielded again to the
natural feeling, and laid the hat beside him. But
soon came another visitor, and another, and poor hotheaded Hugh replaced the badge of membership again
190
w
Ilk 
MARRIAGE CEREMONY.
and again. This happened so often, that at last it
became very ludicrous.
We visited all the Meetings in the vicinity of London during our stay; and as we came home slowly,
we "sat with" Friends at all the different towns and
cities we passed through, when it happened that we
were there on Meeting-days.  They were one and all
silent Meetings. And on remarking how strange that
seemed, I was told that ministers had exhausted themselves at the Yearly Meeting; that the exercise of
their spirits, during that solemn time, was so great,
that they generally needed relaxation and quiet for two
or three months after.  I have since often observed,
that those who spoke most at Yearly Meetings, had
the least to say for a long time afterwards.
Soon after my visit to London, I was married. Oh!
what an ordeal I had to go through.   My intended
husband lived in England, and I in Ireland; so that
we had to undergo all the formalities which the Society
boasts of having instituted, under the "influence of
best wisdom," for the performance of the ceremony.
First of all I had, in the presence of two men witnesses,
to sign a document, stating that the gentleman was
authorized by me to stand up in his own Meeting, and
to inform his assembled brethren that he had an intention of marrying me, telling them all who I was
and where I lived. His Meeting then made inquiry
into his former conduct; and a month after, they gave
him a written permission to marry me, as they had
satisfied themselves that he was "clear of all other
191
il 
MARRIAGE CEREMONY.
marriage engagements." The second step was then,
that he and I, with a large company of our respective
relatives, had to walk in together, arm-in-arm, into
the women's Monthly Meeting that I belonged to;
and there, before the assembled throng, all seated,
gazing at us, we had each to make the appointed
speech standing, then to sit down, while the Clerk of the
Meeting asked the relatives who accompanied us, did
they consent to the "presentation of marriage" which
had just been made?  They answered "Yes;" and
then the written permission from the English Meeting was read. We then "paused a bit," and retired
from the women's room, in the same solemn procession we had entered it; and, having walked into the
men's Meeting-room, there went through the very
same formalities.
It is esteemed very desirable that, as soon as the
ceremony is over, the presentation party should, one
and all of them, return to their respective Meetingrooms, and "sit out the sitting" with the Friends.  We
evaded this custom, and returned home.,We had a
large dinner party that day, and I received many
compliments on the elegance of my dress, the beauty
of my companion, the satisfactory manner in which
we had performed, and admonition on the necessity
of speaking louder at the next and final ceremony.
Five weeks after this, another Monthly Meeting was
held, and then the two men and the two women
Friends who had been appointed to make inquiry,
reported, that there did not appear to be any reason
192
W
fz 
MARRIAGE CEREMONY.
for refusing to allow of our marriage; and therefore
they gave us formal permission to go on with it.
There was then a delay of two weeks more, before the
wedding day came. At last it arrived, and then,
accompanied by sixteen couple, we were marshaled
into the elders' and overseers' gallery, which is two
steps lower than the ministers,' and, like it, fronts the
whole assembly. As usual on such occasions, a vast
number of the town's people flocked to see the show.
A Quaker bride is not allowed to wear a veil; and
there, for two long weary hours, we had to sit and be
stared at. About the middle of the Meetinlg, an appointed man Friend came over to where we sat, and
placed before us the words that we were to stand up
and repeat aloud. Then we signed each the long certificate, which was a very elaborate and elegant specimen of penmanship, on vellum, and the man Friend
read the whole out very loud. After this was done,
three women Friends preached. I was told afterwards
that it was to me they preached, and that they had
admonished me, and hoped good for me and my consistent walk through life, most beautifully. I did not
hear a word of it. I knew somebody was speaking,
but the words conveyed to my mind no more meaning
than the sound of the waves as they ripple on the
shore. One of the speakers was my own new sisterin-law. Even her voice, which was very peculiar, did
not rouse me out of that dreamy state which the
lengthened restraint I was compelled to keep myself
in, while the public exhibition lasted, had sent me into.
193 
DINNER PARTY.
Our dinner party was very large. All our respective fathers and mothers, uncles and aunts, brothers
and sisters, brother-in-law and sister-in-law, nephews
and nieces, and first cousins, had been invited for a
month beforehand; and from far and near they came.
We assembled over eighty altogether, and the feasting and merry-making continued for nearly a week.
Some of my near relatives were not Quakers. They
drew me aside from the crowd, and prayed for me,
and blessed me; so did my own dear father and mother, but no one else.  That such a service is desirable, I believe rarely enters into the head of a true
Quaker.
My father had spared no pains or cost to provide
an entertainment worthy of the occasion. Even one
of his own pet, beautiful peacocks was sacrificed to
do us honour. Venison and pine apples, &c. &c.,
were sent him by his noble acquaintances; and the
Lord Bishop of the Diocese actually sent his own
French cook to dress the dinner. Quakers boast of
being " a self-denying people." It would be curious
to analyze in what the self-denial consists. The ministers, elders, and overseers, who rule over each
Meeting, are certainly very strict in denying the
young people those indulgences, and that liberty of
thought and action, which is the inherent birth-right
of us all. To maintain their order, to uphold their
system, is necessary to them. It is a pleasure, not a
cross to them, to wear the garb, and use the language,
and live isolated from even Christian communion
194 
ENGLISH CUSTOMS.
with their fellows; and it is a pleasure, not a cross,
to tyrannize, as they do, over the mass, by enforcing
on them those burdens which few, comparatively, have
sufficient energy of mind to reject. The great body
of the Society tamely submits to the arbitrary dictum of the few; but that cannot be called self-denial.
I have asked different individuals, both in England
and in Ireland, dozens of times, "Why does thee
wear the bonnet or the hat?"-and the general answer
was, "I wear it to please my father and mother.   I
hate it, and can see no earthly good in it; but the
overseers would torment us if I left it off." This was
not self-denial; and I am sure, that in the matter of
appetite, some Friends are the most self-indulgent
people in the world.
Soon after I had moved to my new home, near
Bristol, I was duly certified to the Meeting there, as
a Member.
Some of the customs of the English Friends were
strange to me. For instance: it was on a third day
morning that I made my first appearance, in the
Meeting. A seat was appointed for me on the second
row of seats, high up. Very many of the Friends
shook hands with me; several introduced themselves.
Nothing could be more flattering than my reception
there. That day, two cousins of mine dined with us.
After dinner, my husband and the gentlemen went
out for a walk into the city. We sat chatting over
the drawing-room fire, which was blazing so brightly
that we put out the candles to enjoy it more tho
195 
ENGLISH CUSTOMS.
roughly. Seven o'clock came, and immediately carriage after carriage drove up to the door, and, to my
utter dismay, in came Friend after Friend, all inl best
company dress; upwards of thirty of them.  I did
not know the name of one of the party, but that
made  no difference; they knew  mine,  and made
themselves quite at home, and ran about the house to
find chairs for themselves. I sent one of the servants
off in a great hurry to nay sister-in-law, who lived
near, to tell her of the inundation which had come
on me, and how unprepared I was for it. With the
greatest kindness and good humour, she promptly set
to work, and packed up a large basket of her own
china, silver spoons, and all other requisites, which
she knew we had not had time, as yet, to provide for
ourselves. She sent these things on before her, and
then put on her bonnet, and taking another servant,
with another large basket with her, she went to the
grocer's, confectioner's, fruit-seller's, and purchased
for me all things needful for the entertainmcnt; and
then she came, and helped me to get tea,for them.
To do all this took a long time; and when my husband came home at night, he was somewhat surprised
to see his house lighted up, and filled with so unexpected a party, just commencing to regale themselves
with the refreshment which was at last made ready.
Fortuniiately he knew them all, and introduced them
to me by name; and then we found out that it was
the custom in that city, when they wished to be very
polite, and to form an intimate acquaintance with a
196
ir 
IGNORANCE OF FRIENDS.
newly settled family, to flock in crowds to the house
at tea time, on the day of a first appearance in the
Meeting. I was also then informed, that my guests
were of the richest and highest families belonging to
the Society in Bristol; and that they had paid me
the greatest possible compliment. Of course, I felt
greatly flattered, and could only regret the awkwardness of being so unprepared to receive them as I
should have liked. The next evening about a dozen
more came, and apologized for having delayed their
visit for twenty-four hours longer than they had
wished.
I found them, one and all, amiable, kind-hearted,
and benevolent; but they did not appear to be religious, or, at least, although they were all plain
Friends, they scrupulously avoided religious conversation; and we have it on the authority of Holy writ,
that the mouth speaks of those things which the heart
cherishes.
Some of the English Friends were very ignorant;
they asked me questions which astonished me from
persons moving in such a sphere of life. One asked
me, "by what conveyance I had travelled from Ireland?" and when I mentioned the steam-packet, she
said, "she would have preferred the coach, the sea
was so dangerous." Another, who told me she was a
botanist, asked me "were there any wild flowers in
Ireland?" and another, "was the water in Ireland
good and clear?" and numerous such like questions.
The Bristol Friends had another custom which
17*
197
.1
17
61 
METHOD OF PAYING TITHES.
amused me, it was so unlike our Irish ways. When
we went to return our bridal visits, we were received
ceremoniously in the state and coldest room-kept
waiting until the ladies had time to array themselves
in best order; and one good creature actually thought
it right to apologize for receiving a bride in her second best gown. Then, after chatting a while, the
lady of the house would say, "Wilt thou allow me to
call for the tray?" At first, I did not comprehend
that this was intended to convey the idea, that I was
to consider I had been offered lunch; but having subsequently, for the amusement of the thing, assented
to the tray being called for, and seen the neat, tidy
servant maid, in answer to the summons, lay on the
table a tray, often a silver one, with plates, and knives,
and glasses, but nothing else; and watched the mistress of the house pretending not to see her, and to
be so engaged in conversation, as to forget the tray
until we rose to depart, and then hospitably attract
our attention to it, I was able to understand the value of appearances. Except in Bristol, I,never met
with this custom; there, I have seen it over and over
again.
Soon after becoming a housekeeper, I was called on
by the tithe collector. Friends annually sum up the
amount of all they have lost by this suffering, as they
call it; and I was then under the idea, that "our
noble testimony against an hireling ministry," was an
essential part of all true Christianity, and that our
refusal to pay the unholy tax was an acceptable mar
198 
METHOD OF PAYING TITlIES.
tyrdom, in a small way. I had heard much preaching on the subject, and very much self-laudation on
the faithfulness of the Society generally, indeed universally, to this our testimony, which so widely separated us from the hirelings of all other creeds.   The
two men who called on me, for the purpose of collecting the disputed impost, were exceedingly gentle and
polite. They saw at a glance that I was an ignoramus, and kindly volunteered to inform me how other
Quakers managed, for I had told them, that my profession would not allow me to pay tithes; and that if
they insisted on forcibly taking away my property,
though I would not resist, still I would look on it as
actual robbery.
"Did you ever pay tithes ma'am?" said one of the
men.
" Never," I replied.
" Well, then," said he, "you are a stranger here,
I see, and I'll just tell you how the Bristol Quakers
manage, for I am going about among them for twenty
years past, and I am always glad to accommodate
them, and meet their scruples. The sum you must
pay is one guinea; so I will call here to-morrow, at
eleven o'clock in the morning, and you just leave on
the sideboard there some articles of plate-your teapot will do very well, or spoons, or whatever you like
-then I come and take it away. You don't give it,
and so your conscience is clear. You will then return to your Meeting-people, that your tea-pot, worth
ten guineas, was distrained for titlhe; and as soon
199 
METHOD OF PAYING TITHES.
after as you like, you can go to Mr. Jones, the silversmith, and tell him how you lost your tea-pot, and
are obliged to buy a new one. He will condole with
you; and after showing you a variety of new ones to
select from, he will hand you your own identical article, and say, he can sell you that cheap-say one
guinea. You pay your guinea, and get your own safe
back again, cleaner and brighter than ever; and, if
you like, you can purchase some other little trifling
article; for Mr. Jones is a very accommodating
man.
I was really shocked at the cool proposal of so
nefarious and unprincipled a transaction, and indignantly rejected it; declaring, at the same time, my
firm belief, that no Quaker would be guilty of so undignified and false an act. The man smiled, and said,
"Aye, that is the way they all go on at first; but
ma'am, it is a great deal the easiest and best plan in
the end;" and then he gave the names of very many,
my own acquaintances, who regularly once a year, as
he jocularly said, "allowed Mr. Jones to clean their
plate." " There is old Mr. R." said he, "has a fine
massive silver tea-pot. It is always laid out ready
for me; I always give notice before I go; and now,
twenty times I have carried it off, and got it brightened for him. He values it at twenty pounds, and
his tithe is only one pound ten. And there is young
Mr. R. He likes me to get his spoons done for him.
He gives so many dinners, he likes to have them bright
and new looking." Seeing me still very incredulous,
200
'r, 
METHOD OF PAYING TITHIIES.
he said, " Well, ma'amrn I wont call on you for a week,
to give you time to think about the matter."  During
that week I went to old Mr. R.'s, and told his daughter that tithes had been demanded of me, but that I
had not paid them, and was expecting another visit
from the collector.
"Oh! yes," said she, " this is just the time they
go about.  They seized a valuable silver tea-pot from
us last week. MIy father values it at twenty guineas,
and the demand in money is only about thirty shillings;
but it is a noble testimony we are called on to bear;
and I trust our faithfulness will yet be the means of
opening the eyes of professing Christians to the nature
of a pure, free, gospel ministry. I trust, my young
Friend, thou wilt be faithful."
She spoke so seriously, that I hesitated to say what
I intended about Jones's shop, lest the idea that I for
a moment could think her or her father capable of
such a deed, might offend.
I then called on young Mrs. R., and mentioned the
same thing to her.   " They did indeed," said she,
" take our spoons; but my William has some way or
other to get them back. I can't tell how he manages;
but I suppose they are ashamed of taking so much
over their demand, and so return them.  At any rate,
they are sent back beautifully polished; and not only
that, but a handsome sugar-spoon, with our crest engraved on it, was also amongst them. I suppose they
were sorry, and put in the spoon by way of atonement." I suspected that my Friend William might
201
I 
METHOD OF PAYING TITHES.
know more than his wife on the subject, but said
nothing.
I then went to Jones's shop, and boldly asked, if
they would return me articles of plate which might
be distrained for tithe, on paying the exact amount
of tithe demanded, and was politely informed, that they
would be most happy to do so-to enter into the same
arrangement with me as with other Quakers.  "But,"
said I, "what recompense will you require, for affordme so great an accommodation?"
"None whatever," replied the shopkeeper; "the
Friends are very good customers of ours; we are always glad to see them entering our doors."
"And what must I pay the collectors?"
"They make no charge either; you can give them
an odd shilling now and then if you like, for they are
very honest, civil fellows."
Faithful to their appointment, at the end of the
week, the men came to me, walked straight into the
parlour, and over to the sideboard, and looked disappointed not to find the plate ready laid out for them.
I told them I had to apologize for doubting their veracity. I had inquired, and found that their statement
was true; but as I could not see any sense in such a
round about way of paying, I thought it simpler, and
came to the same thing in the end, to pay the money
at once, which I did. They thanked me, and broadly
grinning, said, " I was the only Quaker in Bristol who
did the thing in a straight forward manner, as most
of the Society had a crank in their consciences about
202 
METHOD OF PAYING TITHES.
it." This first drew my attention to the doctrine of
our Friends as relates to tithes.  I studied the rules
of the Meeting, Barclay's Apology, and various tracts,
&c. on the subject; and finding that, in the first place,
they assume, that all who receive any pecuniary aid,
are hirelings, and preach for the sake of filthy lucre;
and in the next place, that the one only Scripture text
on which they profess to be called on to bear this
testimony, is this-" Freely ye have received, freely
give," I imagined, that the first was an uncharitable,
as well as a most unwarrantable assumption; and the
second seemed to me an actual command to give.
Surely it is a curious perversion, to construe, "freely
give," into "do not give."
I never was called to account by the Meeting for
paying my tithe. The Friends to whom we reported,
when called on for the amount of our "sufferings for
the cause of truth," merely remarked on the small sum
we returned; and at the next Monthly Meeting, I
heard the query satisfactorily answered-and by one
of those very Friends, whose names had been' mentioned to me, as customers of Jones the silver-smith"that Friends were faithful in bearing their Christian
testimony against paying tithes, priests' demands,
and church rates."
I really felt that day, that I was an awful hypocrite
in the sight of God, to sit quietly by, sanctioning such
a mean, cowardly subterfuge. But my conscience soon
got-hardened  again, by listening to the repetition of
the thing; and besides, it is only by very slow degrees
203
4 
THE ESTABLISHED CIIURCII.
that the light breaks in upon a mind which has been
drilled into a system. When I think now, of the great
difficulty I felt in shaking off the mental thraldom of
Quakerism, and of the many years that I lived, seeing
the fallacies of the system, and alive to the discrepancies between profession and practice, and yet
unable to see my way out of the distorted system of
Christianity which I knew it to be, I can feel very
tenderly for those who are still dwelling in that gloom,
from which I was only rescued by the rough hand of
adversity, and the persecution which, for ten years
past, the Society has condescended to inflict on me;
but I am not come to that yet.
There was an elderly female preacher, who sometimes favoured me with a morning call. She always
spoke kindly and affectionately to me; although she
considered she was in the line of her duty in reproving
me for the fashion of my window curtains, and the oil
paintings on the walls, still it was  not done in an
offensive manner, and evidently only for the "ceasing
of her mind." This dear old woman had One conversation with me, which left an indelible impression on
my mind. It was in reference to the study of the
Scriptures daily, which she was advocating. She said,
she greatly admired the Established Church, because
in it the Scriptures were so freely and so largely read;
and that notwithstanding the many practices therein,
with which as a Quaker, she could not unite, still she
felt very sure the Lord would honour it, because it
honoured his written word.  And in conclusion, she
204 
EXCLUSIVE DEALING WITH FRIENDS.
said, "If I were not a Friend by birth, and education,
and habits, and family ties, I would join myself to the
Established Church." Never before, and never but
once since, have I heard a plain Friend speak even
kindly of the Church of England; and as I had imbibed much of the dissenting spirit myself, these remarks, from one I esteemed highly, surprised and
interested me; and it was ill consequence of them, I
resolved to go to Church, and judge for myself-a
resolution I carried into effect, and which has drawn
down on me ever since, the wrath of the Society.
Another little elderly female preacher also visited
me. Shc was not of the set I belonged to; for the
Bristol Meeting was divided into three sets: the high
Friends, or the rich and well born; the rich and low
born, and the poor. My visitor, Grace Mann, was
in the second set, and consequently her visit was unexpected. But she was a minister, and therefore welcomed with all due gravity. Hlalf preaching, half conversing, she informed me that her concern in visiting
me was to urge upon me the propriety of dealing
at Friends' shops. She thought, "as a people, we
would do well to encourage each other; and besides
that, there was a temptation to depart from the plain
language, when we resorted to shops kept by the
'people of the world;' it was sometimes hard for
young people to be faithful to their testimonies in
such exposed situations;" and then she asked, "who
was my baker?" I mentioned the name. "Ah!"
said she, "now I am coming to the point.  My son
18
205
li 
EVIDENCES.
Daniel is in the baking business. He makes very
good bread; I think Friends ought to deal with him
more generally than they do."
Quakers are often said to be a sly set of people;
and indeed I often thought our preachers very much
so, when they attract one's attention by the words,
"a concern," or "an evidence," which conveys the
idea of an inspiration from heaven, and which ought
to be irresistible in its influences, and then to press,
as they so often do, some point which bears, directly
or indirectly, on their own individual welfare and
interests.
The "evidences" go farther still; they sometimes
reach beyond the tomb. There was a young woman,
who had a very uneasy conscience as she lay upon
her dying bed. She longed for pardon and peace;
but knew not where to look for it; and neither her
mother or sisters could direct her fainting heart aright.
At last they sent for a female minister, a very celebrated one in the Society. She sat with the invalid,
and preached to her, and read a chapter in the Bible
too; but still no ray of joy beamed on the dying
pillow. The poor sufferer told them of her agonized
feeling of uniforgiven sin. There was a protracted
silence; and then the minister spoke, and bade the
dying woman not to fear, for that she had "an evidence" that her sin was blotted out, and that the pearl
gates of heaven were open to receive her. The invalid did not again speak of her own feelings; whether
she felt satisfied with the "evidence," or whether she
206 
EVIDENCES. 
felt ready to say with Job-"  Miserable comforters
are ye," no one knows.
An elderly unmarried man Friend, also was dying.
His death-bed was attended with unremitting attention
by another woman preacher. He, too, was in a pitiable state of mind, dreading to meet the face of an
offended God. She nursed, and cared, and read, and
preached for him. She told me he had to undergo a
great mental conflict; but that she always rejoiced to
witness a conflict, as it was a good sign for the departing.  After some days witnessing the terrors of
death, she told him, that "she had an evidence of his
acceptance." He clung to it, as a drowning man would
to a straw, and died, relying for pardon and for heaven
on her "evidence."   He had been always a plain
Friend, a regular attender of Meetings; and being
well to do in the world, it seemed to Friends unaccountable that he should so tremble at the sight
of the grave.  Some time after his death, it was discovered, that he had been a clever, but most arrant
knave. I-e had been remarkably obliging, in helping
unmarried women and widows in the management of
their affairs, and especially kind in relieving them of
the unpleasantness of going to the Bank to make their
deposits; and sometimes with, but oftener without asking them even, he would good-naturedly receive their
dividends, and bring or send the amount to them.
Death, that dread revealer of secrets, told, that whilst
so kindly paying the dividends, he had put the principal into his own pocket; and the deceived women soon
20'i'
1;-, 
EVIDENCES.
found that their receipts were forged. One poor widow,
with a large family, lost her all-two thousand pounds
-by this orthodox firiend, who was safely sent to heaven on an " evidence."
I was greatly shocked at hearing of another " evidence," and the effect on the survivors from heeding
such an unwarrantable assumption of inspiration. All
acquaintance of mine died, too proud to talk of his
mental agony, which was only known to those about
him by an occasional, and apparently uncontrollable
outburst of terror.  Ilis life had been  an irreligious
one; and his latest act was a malevolent attempt to
sow the seeds of strife and domestic unhappiness in a
family over which his wealth had given him influence.
The widow and children, whilst they rejoiced in being
released from his tyranny, trembled with horror at the
idea of the future, on which he had now entered. He
left directions that his widow should continue the unhallowed conduct which God had prevented him from
finishing.  She recoiled from the hateful task, and positively refused to aid in the unrighteous work. She
became sadly anxious for the soul of her departed
husband, and was daily becoming more and more alive
to the necessity of securing her own salvation, and
fleeing from the wrath to come.  In this state of mind
she was visited by a woman preacher, a relative of
her own, one who knew well the ungodly character
of the deceased. She pitied the poor widow; and
having sought in vain to console the wounded spirit
by ordinary means, at last resorted to an "evidence."
208 
VENERABLE OLD MEN.
One morning, whilst dressing, in the act of lacing her
stays, she hurried across the lobby into the widow's
apartment, and in an excited manner exclaimed,'1 Oh!
I have had an evidence.  Whilst lacing my stays, I
had a clear evidence, that thy husband is in heaven,
and I have hurried here to tell thee, for I knew it
would so cheer thee." The widow, from whom I had
the story, took the comfort it was designed to give
her.  She undoubtingly assured me, that such an evi dence was incontrovertible. She ceased to sorrow for
the soul of her husband; and soon after, imagining,
naturally enough, that if his conduct was not so bad
as to shut himn out of Heaven, it was not so very dangerous for her to continue his ill deeds. She took up
the business he had left undone, from which she had
at first shrunk with dismay, and soon entered into the
spirit of it, with as keen an eagerness, and as reckless
a disregard of all righteousness, as he had done.
In the Bristol Meeting, there were two men and
half a dozen women preachers. Several other men
were accustomed to sit in the gallery; for, both among
the English and Irish Friends, it is the custom, when
there are not a sufficient number of men preachers, to
select a few others, of the most respectable.  Gravelooking, white-haired men are preferred to sit in the
gallery. The object in doing so is, that if any of
the people of the world" should chance to come into
Mleeting, they might behold a wel]-filled preachers'
gallery; anid as the women everywhere so greatly outnumber the men, it is not deemed desirable that a
18-'
iI,
209
b — 
THiE CI-IRISTIAN S TEST.
stranger should, at a glance, be aware of that fact,
which is not altogether a satisfactory one.
In consequence of what that good, pious little woman had said to me about the Established Church, I
went to see and hear, and judge for myself.   By the
merest chance I went to St. James', and had the great
privilege of hearing that good old saint, the Rev. Mr.
Biddulph, preach.  In his sermon he introduced the
text, " There is no other name given  among  mlen,
whereby we may be saved, but only the name of
Jesus;" and dwelt much on the necessity of the name
" Jesus" being revelenced and honored.  Hie said,
"It was a test of our being Christians, and that vast
numbers of pro-fessors were aslhamed of it, and avoided
the use of it.  That it was a  tumibling-block over
which mlany fell; and that no one deserved to be called a Minister of the Gospel who did not faithfully
and lovingly publish the glad tidings, that faith inl the
name of Jesus, wh-o shedl his precious blood to atone
for sin, was the only way -whereby salvation might be
attained."  I was so pleased withl the service of the
Church, and with the intelligible and reasonable sermons I heard there, that I continued a frequent attender, but only at such times as did not interfere
with my own Meeting, to which I still felt bound.
The contrast betweeni the sermons I heard at Church,
and those I heard at MAeeting, was painfully striki.)g.
Our Friends scarcely ever mentioned the name of
Jesus.  They seemed as if careful to avoid it, or fearful of using it   Tl.ev -vo1ll  says our Redcier, ollt
41-) I 0 
PREACHERS.
Saviour, our Lord, our Heavenly Father, and even
Christ, but the name Jesus-the sweetest name that
mortal lips have ever breathed-was very rarely mentioned.
There was an old man, Francis Armit, who spoke
almost every first day.  It was very tiresome to listen
to him, he spoke so slow and so sleepily.   TWhether it
was for the sake of appearing solemn, or whether it
was that he had to think what word should follow the
last he had spoken, I know not; but the effect was
exceedingly unpleasant to any one who took the trouble
of listening and trying to comprehend the idea, if idea
hie had.  Several Friends told me they never thought
of listening to his monotonous drawl; and, indeed, I
am  very sure, had any one asked him, when it was
over, what he had been saying, he could not himself
have told.  I was often under the impression that he
was asleep; and as his eyes generally closed soon after
hlie began, it is not impossible that he may have been
so, and just spoke on as he had for so many years
been in the habit of doing. I asked one day, after
one of his see-saw, sleepy sermons, how it was that
such wretched drivelling was tolerated? and was answered, thus, "1 Oh! we have so few men ministers, sure
it is well, for the appearance of the thing, to have him
even.  Besides, having been acknowledged as an inspired minister, Friends can't go back now.   That
would intimate that their own inspiration, in electing
him, did not come from' best wisdom.' "  As soon as
Friend Francis had dlone, and sat down, up wouM   rise
211
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i 
PREACH ERS.
little Grace Mann, and invariably begin with, "And
it is given me to add a few words to the valuable instruction we have just been favored with." She would
keep on speaking for about five minutes, and her object seemed to be, to make us think the former
speaker's address really had some sense in it; and that
as she guessed we could not find it out, she would tell
us what it was.
The other women were very " small in their gifts."
They rarely spoke, and then only "broken words."
and I may add, broken sense, too. There was another
man speaker too, who gave us, in tolerable good language, an occasional address, a short essay on truth,
or on virtue; but from the time I had heard  Mr.
Biddulph's sermon, I watched closely, and wrote down
almost all I heard in that Meeting, and assuredly it
was not the Gospel of salvation.  Others were aware
of this fact as well as myself.  One man, the father
of a motherless family, having in vain tried to have
the Bible read on first days, was actually in the habit
of committing to memory a whole chapter in the
Gospels, and repeating it. But this gave offence,
and he was forbidden to do so any more.
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I " 1g-'Iil 
213
CHAPTER XI.
Speculation-Anecdote illustrative of the value of richles-Theatre
better than Church-Quaker idea of what dissipation really is Maneeuvring  for a husband-Elopements-Feelings-Education
unnecessary for a Preacher-Persecution-P Friend Gregory's me thod of taking revenge-Disownment and its consequences.
SOME of our men Friends were remarkably clever
speculators on'Chlange, and were particularly noted
for making "good hits," after having sat in the usual
week day Morning Meeting.  They would laughingly
tell us, that the two hours quiet mental calculation
helped them greatly; and were quite delighted, and
took it as a compliment, when a gentleman one day,
with a very sober face, remarked, "Indeed I aml no
match for you, after your Tuesday Meeting.",
The printed rules of the Society are good and sound
in reference to speculation, but the practice is totally
different. So long as a man is fortunate, and that
wealth flows into his coffers, he may speculate in every
conceivable way; and the richer he becomes, the higher
he will rise in the estimation of the Mleeting; but
should his speculation fail, then, indeed, the overseers
will be on the alert, and the rules rigorously enforced.
If the unfortunate has lost only a part of his property,
SPECULATION.
tlWI — 
VALUE OF PICiIES.
they will " deal with him gently," and not put him
out; but if he has lost his all, no mercy is ever shown.
The Meeting testifies its displeasure of his infraction
of the rules, and he is " disowned," or in other words,
excommunicated.
There were two brothers, partners in business, who,
at a time when speculation ran high, had entered into
the spirit of it, and realized an enormous sum.   With
them the old adage proved a true one, "' Much would
have more;" and again they ventured, and lost all,
and more than all they had won. Whilst the Fates
had been propitious they were loaded with congratulations and compliments on their sagacity and clever
management; but when the tide of fortune turned,
they were looked coldly on, and the " Rules of our
Society," those "inspired Rules," were held up to
them in terrorem. The brothers were both married
men. The wife of one of them had a moderate annuity settled on herself; the other was now penniless.
The overseers visited them in the solemn way in which
they always deal with defaulters.  How  they separated the sin of one brother from that of the other
did not transpire; but the resuit was, that he whose
wife had the independence remained a Quaker, and
the other unfortunate was disowned.
This is by no means an isolated case, and the practice of the Society is oftentimes really curious.
It is a rule of the Meeting, that you must attend
regularly, if in health, all the appointed Meetings. If
you neglect to do so, the overseers make inquiry as to
214
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I  
THEATRE BETTER THAN CHURCH.
the cause of your absence. Should they ascertain that
you go to any other place of worship, especially to the
Church, or, as they politely call it, "the Steeple
House," you are immediately put under the most ri gorous " dealing;" but if your absence from Meeting
is only the result of perfect indifference; that you
stay at home, and do not go to any place of worship,
it is all right, and you are in as good estimation as
ever. In the same way a Quaker may attend theatres, balls, races, &c. &c., all of which are forbidden
by the rules, and he will not be disowned for it; but
if he is found to be guilty of going to Church, he
Lmust be cut off from the body as a diseased branch,
"fit only for the firing."
There was a young Quaker lad, who having formed
an acquaintance with a Christian gentleman, was invited to accompany him to a meeting of the Plymouth Brethren. The lad went, and was so pleased
with the Christian instruction he there received, that
he spoke of it to his mother. She was a minister,
and, not satisfied with sharply reprimanding her son,
she made it her business to speak to the gentleman
who had invited him, to request he would never again
lead her son so astray. The gentleman, who was really interested in the welfare of the lad, replied to
her thus: "Your son is in danger of being drawn
into infidelity. His companions are young men of
notoriously incorrect lives; and he is so pleasant a
companion, and so easily led, that I should have
thought you would rejoice to hear that he took plea
215
r 
WHAT DISSIPATION REALLY IS.
sure in attending a place of Christian Worship. You
know he is constantly at the theatre, and he told me
you had reproved him for going there."   "Yes,"
she answered, "I do know he goes to these places;
and I know that his companions are wild young men;
but I had far rather he should be there with them,
than go with thee to a place of' common worship.'
When he grows older he will settle down into a steady
Friend; I have no fear of that. But if once he gets
into the habit of frequenting thy Church, he will be
lost to the Society."
Some of the Friends have very confused ideas of
what sin really is. A young friend of mine was about
to be married. The intended bridegroom was a total
stranger to me, even by name. I asked a mutual
friend about him-"Is he a plain Friend?  Is he
young? and is he rich?" She replied, "I He is young
enough, and he is rich enough, but I am sorry to say
he is not a plain Friend; indeed, I am told he is a
very dissipated young man."
"Indeed," said I, " I am sorry to hear thee say
so, for our dear Anna's sake. But how is he dissipated?"
"Ah!" she answered, "he wears a collar on his
coat, and a diamond ring on his finger; and, worse
than that, he often goes to Church."
"I Well," I replied, keeping on as grave a face as
I could, " If that is the only dissipation he is guilty
of, he may make a very good husband. But how
216
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I     1l": 
MAN(EUVRING FOR A HUSBAND.
happens it that he has not been disowned for going
to Church?"
"For a very good reason," she answered, "because
he is rich. They do not like to disown a rich young
man, for there is always the hope that such may mar ry among us; and then so much depends upon the
wife, whether they may become steady Friends or
not; the chance is, they will.  When once they sow
their wild oats they settle down quietly, and do not
think any more about the religion of other people,
which does not concern them at all."
Many amusing stories of love, and marriage, and
manceuvring for husbands have come to my know ledge; and in narrating some of them, I am influenced
by the desire of showing, that the assumption of being led and guided in all things by the Spirit of truth
is an egregious mistake. This, connected with the
doctrine of " perfection," invariably leads the Quaker
mind into the belief in its own infallibility. True,
they do not claim infallibility. They reject the wordit is a Roman Catholic word, and not to be found in
"Friends' writings."  But what means the constantly
repeated phrase, "best wisdom?" What do the preachers mean, when they call upon us for reverential obedience to them, when they tell us "it has been given
them" to direct us?  What mean the  "concerns"
which the preachers so very often have, and to which
they expect implicit obedience? What mean the
" evidences," but that the preacher has some peculiar
mode of communicating with the Almighty, which is
19
217 
MIAN(EUVRING FOR A HUSBAND.
of equal, if not greater authority than the Holy
Scriptures, the guide of all other Christians? and
which they certainly enforce with an authority that
infallibility alone can claim.
I was one evening, at a large tea party, introduced
to a very beautiful young bride. She had a large
figure, well and most gracefully formed; the roseate
hue of her cheek, and the soft brilliancy of her downcast eyes, were only equalled in beauty by the exquisitely fair neck, and the rich dark brown hair,
banded in the smoothest Madonna style on her lofty
brow. Her dress was of the richest dove-coloured
satin; and her Quaker cap, and neck-kerchief, folded
in neat plaits across her bosom, were of India's most
costly muslin. The handkerchief was attached to
the dress by a gold pin, with a pearl head; and the
belt of her dress was fastened in front by two more
gold pins, each with a diamond head. The bridegroom was a very small, thin, awkward, ill-made man;
his face-from which every morsel of whisker had
been shaved off-was white, flat, and meaningless;
and his dress, though quite new, was badly made, and
badly put on; it was, however, a strictly Quaker
costume.
In the course of the evening I said to the lady who
had introduced me, " How ever did that mean-looking
little man manage to get such a very lovely bride?"
She smiled, and answered, "Strange as it may seem,
I assure thee, it was Rachel who courted him, not he
her. I will tell thee the story. About four years
1', 1 8 
MANEUVRING FOR A HUSBAND.
ago, Rachel's younger sister was married; and she
was somewhat annoyed that she, the elder, and so
much the handsomer, should have been passed by; so
she resolved to provide herself with an husband; and
thou knowest when a woman makes up her mind to
do a thing, she triumphs over every obstacle.  Rachel's first step was to draw out a list of the names
of the eligible young men; opposite to each name she
placed the amount of his annual income, as correctly
as she could ascertain it. The most wealthy was
placed at the top of the list, and so on in regular gradation. She had twelve names down. They lived
in all parts of England; one in London, one in York,
one in Bristol, and so on.
"Sylvanus Otway was at the head of the list. She
had never seen him, and he lived near Norwich.  He
was down for seven thousand a year. Rachel seriously
informed her father and mother, that she had " a concern" to attend the Norwich Quarterly Meeting.
They had no acquaintances they cared for there, and
were disinclined to take so long a journey; but Rachel
became so silent and sad, and so often told them she
was burdened with the weight of her concern to go,
that they at length yielded to her wishes; and father
and mother, Rachel and her sister Susanna, and one
of the brothers, all went to Norwich. As the father
and mother are acknowledged ministers, of course
they were taken much notice of, and invited to all
the Friends' houses; amongst others, to Friend Otway's, and Rachel soon had the pleasure of being ir
II, 1 9
W. — 
MANEUVRING FOR A HUSBAND.
troduced to Sylvanus. She was delighted to find him
a fine, handsome, intelligent-looking young man, and
to perceive that he was decidedly fascinated with his
new acquaintances; and when, at parting, he whispered
to her sister, loud enough for Rachel to hear,'I hope
soon to be in your city, and to have the pleasure of
calling at your house,' her cheek flushed with triumph,
and her heart palpitated with joy, at the success of
her scheme.  Sylvanus soon followed them, as he had
promised, and proposed for Susanna. He was promptly
accepted; and they were married as speedily as the
rules of our Society would permit. Rachel was exceeding vexed and disappointed; but she is not a
person to be discomfited by one failure, so she resolved to try again; but she has never been friendly
with Susanna since. The next on her list was Josiah
Gumble, of York, and his income was six thousand.
Again she informed her father, that she felt it was
required of her to attend the York Quarterly Afeeting; and she added,'it had been borne in on her
mind, that the ministry of her beloved father, at that
solemn assembly, would be blessed to some waiting
minds.'
"There is nothing pleases our ministers more than
flattery of their preaching gifts. Rachel is an adept
at it. I have often found it difficult to keep my features in sober decorum, when I have heard her speaking of the inward peace she had felt from the acceptable service of her much valued Friends. And then
she presses the hand of the minister she is flattering,
ow
220
,-a 
MAN(EUVRING FOR A IIUSBAND.
with so much feeling, as she says; but they like it,
and Rachel has her own ends in view.  She went. to
York, and soon obtained the desired introduction to
Josiah Gumble; he too, was young, and passably
well-looking; Rachel contrived to be very much in
his company; but she saw clearly that he could not
be caught. She told me she had never met any man
who was so coldly insensible to beauty, and so stupid ly indifferent to flattery. Hiowever, Rachel was not
disheartened; for it soon came out, that Josiah was
the victim of an unrighteous attachment to the daugh ter of a clergyman; for love of whom, he deserted
our Israel, and is now-alas! that it should be so with his six thousand a year, gone over to the camp
of the alien.
"The third on Rachel's list was John Jones, of
London, her bridegroom now; he is worth about two
thousand a year; and, as thou must see, no beauty.
When Rachel first saw him, she was half inclined to
leave him for somebody else; but the next on her list
is only six hundred a year.  The sacrifice  ~as too
great, and besides, James Lewis might be as meanlooking, so she resolved on the conquest of John
Jones.  It was very easily accomplished, he made no
resistance, he at once became the worshipper of her
beauty; and now that they are married, I think it
will be her own fault if she is not happy. He is not
very wise, but he is good-huinoured and good-natured."
" How did thou become acquainted with this amusing story?" said I. "Is it not a breach of confidence
19*
221
VW
I 
MANEUVPRING FOR A IIUSBAND.
to tell it?"  "No, indeed," she replied, "'there were
more than a dozen of us in the room when she told it
herself, and showed us the list; she said she did not
want it now, so she gave it to Martha Elton, and bade
her give a copy of it to any of the girls who would
like to try the same plan of getting settled in life."
Several years elapsed before I chanced to hear any
thing more of the beautiful Rachel Jones. It was a
sad termination to her career; but the hypocritical
system of her youth had paved the way for her dismal
fall. She lived for a couple of years in her husband's
splendid domain, surrounded with all the comforts and
luxuries which his doating fondness could accumulate
about her, and seemed happy, but her temper was not
so even, or her spirits so joyous as formerly.  Then
she took a very pious fancy, spoke in our Meetings
for Discipline, and was rising in the Society. She
established schools for the poor in her neighbourhood,
and being very strict in requiring a regular attendance from her pupils, she would go herself to their
cottages to inquire the cause of absence.   This often
brought her into contact with scenes of poverty, sickness, and sorrow.  She gave up attendance at the
school, and devoted her time to visiting the poor.
There she would go, day after day, attended by her
own coachman, carrying food and clothes, for her to
distribute, as she saw they were needed.   She would
read a chapter in the Bible to the sick, and she would
kneel down and pray beside the bed of suffering.
Then wearied in body, and exhausted in mind, she
222
.1
F , 
MANCFUVRING FOR A HUSBAND.
would return home, generally leaning on the coachman's arm.  This continued for months to be her
daily habit, during which time her husband minded
the house and children, for she had two fine boys; and
though he regretted that the poor, and the coachman
should so engross his wife's attention, still he expected
that, like the school, the fancy would soon wear itself
out.
One day, she did not return as usual; week after
week passed, and no tidings camne of her. She had
taken up, at several times, large sums of money in her
husband's name, as he had from the first, resigned to
her, as she wished it; the entire management of his
property; about ten thousand pounds, it was supposed,
she had in her possession when, with the coachman,
who was an Irish Roman Catholic, a handsome young
man, she sailed for America-there, under the name
of Mrs. Patrick Murphy, she terminated her unhappy
career before one year had elapsed.
No notice, that I ever heard of, was taken of her
conduct by the Monthly Meeting to which she belonged.  It was thought more expedient to let her drop
away unnoticed, than, by disowning her for immorality,
to allow any record to appear on the books, of this
sin having ever been heard of amongst us.
Is is, indeed, a rare sin amongfst  the  Women
Friends. The few instances of it, that have come
under my knowledge, have all been in families in which
the mother was a preacher.
A refined purity, il wor,d, thought, and deed, is an
223
I 
ELOPEMENTS.
almost universal attribute of the Quaker ladies.  Nor
must it be thought that the numerous elopements
which take place, result from any deficiency of this
principle; but the heart will flutter and throb as
wildly under the neat folds of a Quaker costume, as
beneath gauze and lace, when the shaft of a young
love has pierced it deeply.
When a Quaker girl forms an attachment for a
person, "not of our Society," no matter how suitable
a connection —no matter how good his character, or
how unobjectionable he may be, she is required to refuse him.  Her father and mother, she knows, would
themselves, be turned out of Meeting, were they to
consent to the marriage. She feels that although the
rules of the Society hedge in her way, yet that no law
of God confronts her; and therefore not to subject
herself to the possibility of disobeying her parents,
she elopes, generally, in the very simplest and least
improper of all ways. Her name is called in the
Church three times; no Quaker is there to hear of it,
or to tell the overseers; and she just walIs quietly
from her father's house, for an hour or two, and comes
home a bride.
The parents, to escape the censure of the Society,
and the inquisitorial annoyance of the overseers, invariably assume the appearance of indignation for a
short time.  The daughter understands their feigned
displeasure, but real affection for her and her husband;
she keeps at a distance from them, until the overseers
have got somne other occupation to engage their atten
224
9t 
ELOPEMENT,S.
tionl, and then cordiality, both in reality and in appearance, is resumed.
This is very frequently the true state of the case,
although, no doubt, many Quaker girls have eloped
without so good an excuse. Some, anxious by any
means, to escape the disagreeable surveillance they
were subjected to by their overstrict relatives, have
been too precipitate, and too rashly confiding.
On the occasion of one elopement, the whole Society
was thrown into a ferment. It was a young woman
who had been educated most guardedly, that is, who
had been carefully kept from all communication with
"the people of the world;" from books and newspapers, and even from associating with any Friends'
families, but those who were of the utmost orthodoxy;
whose chief employment was hemming muslin, and
attending MAleetings, and whose greatest indulgence
was to be allowed out to tea with the ministers and
overseers.
Youth must have some excitement, and she was
naturally ambitious of distinction; that inherent trait
of her character developed itself, in the only accessible way allowed by the rules; she became a preacher.
tIer youth, her good looks, and her pleasing voice,
combined with her grave and extra-sober demeanor,
soon satisfied her Meeting that she was raised up to
be what the Society now-a-days sadly wants, "a
standard bearer, an inspired minister." Many and
many a private meeting was held by ministers and
elders that each might tell the others, what was the
225
I 
226 EDUCATION UNNECESSSARY FOR A PREACHER.
feeling of their minds on the important question of
allowing her "a seat in our gallery," and after inquiring into the "feeling" of all the plain Friends
all over the country, and they unanimously agreeing
that Jane ought to be acknowledged as an inspired
minister, she was so appointed, and took her seat, to
the great delight of her relatives, who were proud of
her elevation. To have a preacher in the family,
confers a reflected estimation on it.
When the ministers and elders are considering of
the suitability of appointing a minister, they make no
account of education, that they professedly despise;
they make no inquiry, even into the candidate's
knowledge of Scripture-no examination whatever is
considered necessary. They decide wholly and entirely from their "feelings," and they profess themselves to wait for inspiration, which comes to them
always, and only through "feeling."   Hence  the
great difficulty they sometimes suffer under, when an
acknowledged minister has proved indisputably, that
she is not " inspired;" they must, in testifying against
her evil deeds, admit that their own inspiration, when
acknowledging her, was not from "unerring and best
wisdom." Gi ave offences are often passed over in a
minister, rather than that an open admission should
be on record, of the possibility of the Meeting of
ministers and elders making a mistake, which strikes
at this fundamental doctrine of the Society.
Jane being now a minister, was consequently given
a pre-eminence over her parents, and no longer con
t 
ELOPEMENT.
sidered herself in subjection to them.  She tyrannized
over them, as well as the rest of the family, by her
numerous "concerns" for their spiritual welfare, to
which she required and obtained implicit submission.
She had entire liberty to go in and out as she pleased,
and might tell or not tell where she had been. Jane
enjoyed her new-found liberty, and made full use of
it.  She soon found out, that "the people of the
world" are not all quite so bad as she had been taught
to consider them; and having been kept from temptation by the seclusion of her former life, not by sound
scriptural principle, which is the only true repellant
of temptation, poor Jane could not resist the flattering attentions of a respectable and handsome suitor,
who spoke to her of feelings which her woman's heart
could well understand, whilst he laughed at her idea
of "waiting for a feeling" on which to guide her conduct. She eloped and married him, and was never
forgiven by her parents, or by the Society.
Friends, as a body, are extremely vindictive and
unforgiving.  Parents will often, at the instigation of
the A-eeting, and to escape blame themselves, persecute their offending children with exceeding severity;
and as the Society refuses to take any cognizance of
unkindness, or of unchristian severity, or injustice,
unless the sufferer be "a member," the persecutor
feels encouraged, thinking, that if the Society really
consider his conduct improper, the overseers would be
only too glad to call upon him.'
So it is in regard of law-suits. The rule is very
227
r
' Pk 
METHOD OF TAKING REVENGE.
stringent, that Friend may not go to law with Friend;
but Friends may go to law with "the people of the
world," as much and as often as they please. A
Friend may be guilty of the meanest, and shabbiest,
and most dishonorable conduct, and provided it is only
one of "the people of the world" who suffers, his
Meeting takes no notice of it, unless there be danger
of such publicity as may damage the well-established
character of the Society. And if a Friend wishes to
go to law with a Friend, he can manage that too. He
has only to press his broad brim more tightly on his
brow in Meetings; to be more devoted in his attention
to the high, plain Friends; squeeze the ministers' hands
as they come out of Meeting after speaking, and ingratiate himself with the overseers; and if he is a
moneyed man, lay them under pecuniary obligations,
and the difficulty which the "rules" opposed to his
wishes, vanishes.  I-e can invent, or he can find out,
some flaw in his adversary's Quakerism, and have him
put under dealing, which being conducted on a most
provoking and irritating system of domiciliary visits,
generally results in the victim sending in his resignation of membership, for the sake of getting rid of it.
There are other ways of eluding the rules. This I
have described is the most common; for when once
the resignation is sent in, Friend Broadbrim can go
to law, uncensured and unnoticed.
I knew an instance where a man, who was very
rich, and of high standing in his Meeting-that is,
who was sometimes appointed representative to Lon
228
L*
KL —
I
I --
11.         44  '. 1 
METHOD OF TAKING REVENGE.
don, sometimes made clerk of the Quarterly Meeting,
who spoke in the meetings of discipline, and kept an
excellent table, to which the ministers, elders, and
overseers always had a ready access. This man was
a violent radical, and quarreled irreconcilably with
another Friend, for refusing to join with him in some
rather dubious demonstrations in favour of the radical
candidate for parliamentary honours. He who refused
was a conservative, and well known to be so; but
Friend Gregory had found so many only too glad to
have it in their power to please him, that he was mortified and indignant that one whom he had the power
either to serve or to injure, should refuse, and, more
than that, should dare to assign a conscientious reason
for not doing his behest. Gregory had evinced on
other occasions a somewhat vindictive spirit. He now
commenced to work on the plan he had cautiously laid
to ruin the offender. He all of a sudden became very
friendly with his victim, appeared to enter with kindliness into his affairs, and offered to lend hiln a consid(lerable sum of money. He thus obtained, easily
the knowledge he required of the private history, and
the connections of the other, who was unsuspicious, and
credulously confiding in what he deemed the wonderful kindliness of Gregory. Trouble after trouble came
now upon him. Like the waves of the sea, they followed each other in rapid succession, and in an unaccountable manner; but he was a Christian man, and
bore up bravely against the flood. At last a near
relative died, and in his will gave strange reasons for
229
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20 
METHOD OF TAKING REVENGE.
alienating some property which he had expected.
This led to inquiry, and it was found, by the papers
of the deceased, that Gregory had long been in correspondence with him; and, whilst sympathizing hypocritically with his victim's afflictions, had been
slandering him most foully. When discovered he threw
off the mask, and became an open and formidable
enemy.   The victim addressed the Monthly Meeting
on the subject of the wrongs which Gregory had inflicted on him, and asked the overseers to restrain him,
according to the rules, from the persecution he was
so wilfully pursuing; but the overseers were Gregory's
own people, and the whole Meeting was at his feet.
Their letter in reply, which I have seen, was a very
curious specimen of Quaker justice. They said, they
had been deeply pained to find that any one had accused their esteemed Friend Gregory of persecution;
that they had several "solid Meetings" to consider
of so grievous a complaint; that the result of their
waiting for the inspiration of best wisdom had been,
to summon Gregory before them, and to read to him
the letter of accusation; that it was done in a very
weighty manner, as became so grave a charge; and
that they had been exceedingly relieved by that dear
Friend informing them that it was all a mistake; that
he was incapable of such base conduct as he had been
charged with; that so far from his wishing to injure,
his heart overflowed with love to his tried Friend; and
they added, that as it was impossible to alter the high
opinion they entertained of so consistent a Friend as
230 
METHOD OF TAKING REVENGE.
Gregory, it was no use whatever to address them again
on the subject.
There was, however, one minister in that Meeting,
whom Gregory was fearful had misgivings.  The minister was influential, and it would be inconvenient
should he look too curiously into the matter.  It was
necessary to blind his eyes, and none knew better
than Gregory how easily that might be done. The
minister was poor, comparatively, and had a large
family. Gregory was a notoriously benevolent man,
a large subscriber to all the charities.  It was only
what might be expected, that he should call on the
minister, express sympathy at the pressure which the
wants of so numerous a family entailed on one whose
mind ought to be relieved from sublunary cares, that
he might the better be enabled to attend to his high
calling; and Gregory begged his acceptance of a note
for five hundred pounds, which the other accepted,
and never since has had misgivings of the rectitude
of that ornament of our Society, Friend Gregory.
The illusion caused by the most splendid scenery
is dissipated when one gets a peep behind the scenes.
Mlany a house is neat and clean outside, and very
dirty within. There is a time coming, when things
will be revealed of " that respectable body, the Society of Friends," which the world now little dreams
of.
Friends claim for themselves, both publicly and
privately, thie honour of being free from the sin of
persecution.   Not long since, I observed a letter
231
PI
v 
232    DISOWN(WIMENT AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.
written by some one of them, to one of the periodi cals, boldly demanding a public recognition of this
claim.
There is nothing in Quakerism to prevent a man
persecuting his fellow. On the contrary, there is
very much in the system calculated to encourage the
growth of that spirit. When the MIeeting testifies
against any infraction of its rules, and the offender
has been "disowned," every relative and connection
he has is called upon to persecute him. He is not a
Friend now. Friends are advised not to associate
with any but Friends.  I-e is cut off from domestic
and social companionship. Is not that persecution?
What crime has he been guilty of, that he is thus severed from all the associates of youth? Why do all
his old friends look so coldly on him? Why do they
put an evil construction on his every act and word?
Why seem to watch over him for evil? and why prophesy of his ultimate fall?  Why do they refuse,
with a mysterious reservation, to bear witness to his
honourable conduct, to his integrity, or to,his moral
worth, whilst among them? They profess to cast
him off; they do so, in such a way as that, if they
can help it, he shall never get on. And what is the
crime? Perhaps he has attended the service of the
Parish Church; or has allowed his daughters to learn
music; or has dressed himself or his family in mnourning for a father, a mother, or a wife; or has paid
tithes; or has accompanied his sister when she was
going to be married in the Church; or, perhaps, he 
DTISOWNA-IENT AND ITS CONSEQUENTCES.    233
has brought dishonour on the Society by a failure in
his business.  True, he has told the overseer how that
failure was caused, by some Friends, high in the Meet ing, having taken an unfair advantage of him; having
advised him to take the unfortunate step he did, with
the understanding, that though their names were not
to appear, they would back him privately. He has
shown that the positive fraud of a "high Friend" has
overwhelmed him; he has intreated for mercy, for he
dreads the effects of disownment. But all in vain.
I-e is sharply reproved for " highly improper conduct," in mentioning the names of the Friends he has
inculpated; and he is tauntingly reminded that he
has been lax in the observance of our rules, for a
lengthened period. A quick glance at his coat tells
him that now a standing collar, and a rounded skirt
would have served his cause; and the mention of our
overseer, Martha Wrigley's name, brings to his recollection the repeated visits of that "important Friend,"
to his wife and to himself, to remonstrate with him on
the sin of having his daughters taught to play on the
piano.
I have seldom known an instance of a member being
disowned for sin. But for being unfortunate, and for
transgressing the rules of the Society, paying tithes,
marrying out of Meeting-often, very often. But for
sin, never, unless compelled by publicity. Sin is
passed over, rather than have such things recorded
on the books.
There is nothing in Quakerism, as I have known
20*
.1 
INFIDELITY.
it, to prevent an humble, loving spirit from meekly
drinking the waters of salvation.  The Holy Scriptures may be freely read in private, and they can accomplish their own mighty work on the hearts of the
upright and true followers of the Lamb. But there
is nothing in Quakerism, so far as I have known it, to
prevent the commission of crime, to preserve from
temptation, or to make the road to heaven one whit
more accessible, by all the various and specious devices which " the best wisdom of our worthy predecessors" has ordained, than that plain, straightforward way, which Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, in
the good old times, pointed out to us.
I have often met with open infidelity under the
name of Quakerism; and a teacher in Friends' famnilies, a pious man, has lately informed me that, with
very few exceptions, the young Quakers, his pupils,
are growing up infidels
234
W-1 
COUNTRY MEETINGS.
CHAPTER XII.
Country Meetings in England and Wales-The Ethiopian and the
Leopard-Bonnet and Hat essential to Friends' worship-A doubt ful Minister-Sleepy old Friend-Dry Meetings-Exhortation to
assist in the ministry, and honour promised to reward compliance
-Story of poor Mary-St. Paul's want of politeness-Sitting on
Dress-Funeral CustomsSchism-Overseers' method of getting
Information —Wedding at an Inn.
I HAVE had several opportunities of attending the
small country Meetings in England and Wales.  In
one of them we sat down in number eight persons, one
of them was a child of about six years old. The room
was large enough to hold a couple of hundred people,
and was cold and damp.  We took our seats in right
order; the plainest dressed man and woman sat fronting the empty room, and the rest of us on the top
seats. The silence and the chilly feel soon became
painful. The child did not understand or enjoy it.
He slipped down quietly off the seat behind his father,
and ran over to his mother, saying, audibly, "Oh!
Mamma, let us come away."   She tried to keep him
silent, and succeeded for a few minutes; but there
was a very pretty girl near, and he again forgot decorum, and said aloud, "Mamma, that Friend has a
very nice face." This unusual breaking of the silence
235
14 
236     THE ETHIIOPIAN AND THE LEOPAntD.
upset the gravity of all. The friends on the raised
seat shook hands, and the only public worship which
these Friends had on that Sabbath day was concluded.
They had sat in the Meeting-room for just one hour.
I was sorry to hear afterwards, that the child had been
severely punished for his disturbance of the assembly;
and not surprised, when told, that the pretty girl had
married the Curate of the Parish Church, to which
she was in the regular habit of going, as soon as ever
the mockery of a Meeting, which her parents constrained her to attend, was over.
At another country Meeting which we were told had
the great advantage of a resident minister, we sat
down, about forty in number, many of whom, like
ourselves, were strangers. After some twenty minutes
silence, the minister rose to address us.  He did not
use any opening text, but in the course of his rambling
oration, he made use of these words-" Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots? No,
my friends, they cannot, because they are both brute
beasts, and they perish together." When the Mleeting was over, mnany spoke and laughed at the mistake,
but none, as if they deemed such ignorance sinful in a
professed minister of the Christian Religion.
Travelling through South Wales, we were told one
Sabbath morning that there was a Friends' Meeting
held in the house of a Friend, and that it was according
to law, a registered place of worship. We resolved to
attend it, and went there; it a was a gentleman's comfortable house, surrounded by a small, well-kept lawn, 
COU-NTRY MEETINGS.
and gardens. The owner, his wife, and brother, con stitutecl the usual assembly.  We were cordially wel corned at the door, as an acceptable addition to the
Meeting.  The drawing-roomn, a very elegant apart ment, light, cheerful, and decorated with numerous
articles of taste and vertu was the meeting-room.
The lady retired for a few moments, and returned
with her Friends' bonnet and shawl on, her husband
then slipped down stairs, and came back with his hat
on. Then we all sat down, and "cdropped into silence."
It had not continued five minutes, when the owner of
the house got fidgetty, and jumping up, said. "I do
not think we can manage a silent Meeting well. Shall
I read a chapter in the Bible?"  We all assented, and
he laid on the beautifully inlaid table, a magnificent
copy of the Holy Scriptures, from which he read two
chapters and a psalm; a two-minutes pause succeeded,
and then he turned round on his chair, and gravely
shook hands with me.   Meeting was over, and we
began to chat; he insisted we should remain and dine
with him, as he said Friends always did when, they
attended that Meeting. And his wife proposed a walk,
which we all enjoyed very much; the day was fine,
and the scenery quite new to me, the mountain air
invigorating, and our companions intelligent and exceedingly agreeable.
The lady laughingly told me, that she always put
on her bonnet, and her husband his hat, when sitting
in their drawing-room-their make-believe Meetinghouse, on first days; "but," said she, "it would not
,)2,7
- 4ZE- 
A DOUBTFUL MINISTER.
feel like a Friends' Meeting, unless we had on those
appendages of our Society."  She told me that "her
husband had subscribed several hundred pounds for
the building of a large church which was quite near
them; that she often thought it would be more sensible to go there to worship, that the minister was a
valued friend of theirs, and that they could not see
anything wrong in the service of the Church; but
that, as it would expose them to so much annoyance
from the Society, they kept on the old way, sitting
silent first with hat and bonnet on, for the name of
the thing, and then reading the Bible for edification."
I attended for several months a country Meeting,
in which there was one woman preacher. She, and
one overseer, for company-sake beside her, and an
old, plain, white-haired man, who, though he had no
appointment, was, on account of his wealth and his
orthodox appearance, approved of, sat in the upper or
preaching gallery. The Meeting was principally composed of young people, several large families living in
the neighbourhood.  The preacher's gift was very
small. She would sometimes repeat the salhe sermon
over and over again. Some thought she had but one
text, so committed to memory as to be able to repeat
it aloud.  She was a very proud woman, and took
offence readily, when not treated with that deference
which she conceived her appointment to the ministry
entitled her to.  Her husband was also a very plain
Friend; but there were some rather dubious money
transactions, in which both were involved, which made
238
14 
SLEEPY OLD FRIEND.
this Friend's preaching be received more coldly than
usual. Plain Friends may do pretty much what they
please. The discipline of the Society is never rigidly
enforced, when the outward appearance is in all
points regulated by the standard of orthodox Quaker ism.  It is not considered desirable to interfere; for
it is so unpleasant to have to put a Friend, whom we
have already acknowledged to be an inspired minister
of our Society, under dealing, that the sin is covered as
much as possible. But if the truth be whispered about,
such ministers generally consider it prudent to absent
themselves very much from Meeting, under the con venient plea of indisposition; or if they do go, it is to
sit up on their elevated seats, but generally in silence.
Sabbath after Sabbath, these young people sat in
that Meeting-house, without hearing one word to enlighten their understandings, or to teach them how to
attain salvation, or to worship God aright.  The old
man, after making divers twitchings and contortions,
indicative of a determined resistance to the somniferous
influence of the silent Meeting, would invariably yield
to it. It was almost impossible for any one present
to avoid looking at him, as he sat directly raised up
in front of us; his head bobbing from side to side,
first very gently, then as the sleep grew deeper, down
it would sink lower and lower, until at last one great
drop down would rouse him up, to open his eyes, and
look about him, in a kind of wild way, as if he would
say to the bright young eyes he saw gazing up to him
— " How dare you think I would go to sleep in Meet
ri
239 
SLEEPY OLD FRIEND.
ing?" He was generally roused to break up Meeting, by the ringing of the Church bell, which was
very conveniently timed to do so. But on one occasion, even that did not wake him-he slept soundly;
and the Meeting sat on, wearily watching his awaking. Half an hour longer than usual, sitting in a
silent Quaker Meeting, is no small trial of patient endurance. At last it became unbearable, and a man
Friend, sitting in the middle of the Meeting, shuffled
his feet about, and making a noise, rose up to depart.
This example was followed by all the rest; and the
sleeper awoke to find Meeting broke up, without his
usual shake of hands. He was very angry about it;
and his sons, tall, stalwart men, threatened to chastise the individual who had infringed on their father's
prerogative.
A gentleman told me he had stopped a Friend one
day in the street of a large city to speak to him on
business.  Ah! Robert, said the Quaker, "I am glad
to see thee, but I can't talk to thee now; I am just
going to our Week Day Meeting.  Will, thee come
and sit a bit with us?" "Well, Sir," replied the gentleman, "I have no objection, since you ask me-I
will go with you." They went and sat together; the
meeting was a silent one, and lasted an hour. When
it was over, the Friend addressed his companion"Well, Robert, how does thee feel after that?  Dry
work, is it not? Come with me now, there is a tavern
close by, and we'll get something more comfortable
for ourselves."
240
rr — - 
DRY MEETINGS.
A silent Meeting is technically called, a dry meet ing, in contra-distinction to the streams of living
waters which are considered as flowing from the lips
of acknowledged ministers.
I was now living, as Friends say, within the com pass of a highly-favoured meeting, that is, we had an
unusually large staff of preachers. We had six ac knowledged ministers, and four candidates for that
honour; besides this, we often had visits from travel ling Friends. Several of these came to our city under
"the weight of a concern to sit with Friends in their
families," and I, of course, came in for my share of
their visitations.
There was a woman Friend, on one of those occa sions, whose address pleased me very much. Her
concern was to urge on us the frequent and prayerful
reading of the Scriptures, and the importance of knowing our own impotence, and our need of the guiding
light of the Holy Spirit.
Our old acquaintance, the great John Earl, also
paid us a family visit. He honoured us especially by
volunteering to dine with us, and was cordially welcomned, as every one was, who came to our house, as
a messenger froml Christ.  To my delight, he came
without the usual attendant.  His conversation both
before, and at dinner, was entertaining and instructive, but at last he dropt into the well-known ominous
silence.  His concern was different from any of the
other Friends; it was, "that my husband might be
made willing to yield himself up to the work of the
21
241
w 
EXHORTATION.
ministry; and that I might be an help-meet for him
in so arduous a vocation." He said he had long thought
his " dear friend was pre-eminently qualified for a seat
in our gallery, that his commanding figure, and his
rich deep toned voice, were gifts which ought to be
cast into the Lord's treasury." He spoke for several
minutes in the most flattering manner of our connections, position in the Society, and of the prominent
part which he considered we were both designed to
take in the management of it, and he assured me that
the trifling sacrifice which would be required of me,
in my outward appearance, would be amply compensated for by the delightful feelings I should experience in beholding my husband one of the most honored
and most influential men in our Society. He then
knelt down, and prayed that the Lord would open our
hearts to receive the message which he had been the
humble instrument of conveying to us; and especially,
that I might be kept from doubting, and from putting
any stumbling block in my husband's path. After
this, and the usual silence which followed itchad ended,
he chatted on different subjects, but before going
away, he said he hoped we would not lightly put away
the subject he had felt it his duty to speak to us on;
and that he would recommend us to study Scott's
Bible, with notes and observations, as a peculiarly
suitable preparation for that usefulness in the Church
to which we are called.
I do not know whether he spoke to others of what
he said to us, but about two years afterwards, a woman
242 
STORY OF POOR MIARY.
preacher reproved me very sharply for having, as she
said, stood in my husband's path, to impede his ser vice as a minister. And another told me, I had
proved a very unfit wife for one, whose early piety
and personal beauty, had marked him  out for the
preacher's gallery.  I told them I had never had an
opportunity of sinning as they accused me of, for that
his own inclination had never been towards preaching,
though he certainly was anxious to live as a Christian
ought; but it was all in vain, and I had to bear some
very hard speeches for it.
The Friend, whom I engaged as governess for my
children, was an enthusiastic Quaker. At last she
became so carried away by her feelings, as to attempt
speaking in'Meetings. To her extreme mortification
and distress, the overseers visited her, and informed
her that her attempt at ministry was not acceptable
to the Meeting, and peremptorily told her she would
not be allowed to speak there. Poor Mary was overwhelmned with chagrin, and when I soothingly inquired
the cause of her distress, she told me all-the feeling
of duty which had prompted her to overcome her own
natural dislike to speak in a public assembly; the
doctrines of the Society which she had studied carefully; she had had visits from travelling Friends, and
advices from the overseers, often and often, in which
they had warned her of the danger of resisting the
guidings of the light within.  And now, when she had
done so, they blamed her, and spoke harshly to her.
Poor Miary! she wept bitterly.  I proposed, and she
243
i I 
STORY OF POOR MARY.
gladly agreed, that we should both search out in the
Scriptures, and write down every text we could find
on the subject of women's preaching.  We did so,
and comparing those from which Friends draw an
inference, that women's preaching is a part of the
Gospel scheme, with St. Paul's positive command"Let your women keep silence in the churches,"
(where he immediately afterwards informs  us that
every one who is spiritual must acknowledge he has
written by the commandment of the Lord;) we were
both, I believe, satisfied, that for once the overseers
had done well. Mary, however, never recovered the
painful shock her feelings had received; she was vexed
for having exposed herself to the rebuff she had met;
she was mortified with the belief, that it was because
she was poor in worldly wealth, they had silenced
her; and she was intensely grieved to think she had
presumed to take upon herself the office of a minister,
without being called of God to do so.  She had an inherited tendency to consumption; and now, having to
work for her living by day, and fretting over these
thoughts at night, she soon sunk into the grave.  Two
days before she died, she told me of the great kindness she had recei;ved from a medical Friend, whose
purse had been freely opened to her need, and of the
peace and joy she felt in heart, at the prospect of so
soon seeing her Lord and Saviour.
Some time after her death, I was speaking to an
elderly Friend, on the subject of women's preaching,
and said, " I cannot understand how our Friends ex
244
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SITTING ON DRESS.
plain away that fourteenth chapter of 1 Cor.; the
command is so positive, and so solemnly enforced."
She replied, " Ah! my dear, sure thee knows St. Paul
was a bachelor; no one could expect that he would be
very polite to the females."
There was an overseer in our Meeting, who often
paid me a friendly visit, and professed to feel great
interest in my welfare, and personal affection for me.
She was elderly, unmarried, very rich, and somewhat
eccentric. She lived in luxurious comfort and elegance,
and indulged freely in her one extravagance, the love
of old china.  I reckoned eight curious old teapots,
one day, ornamenting her plain black marble chimney piece. One with the handle across, like a kettle, she
took down with trembling care, to indulge me with a
nearer view of the delicate, semi-transparent china,
and told me it was invaluable. She had given ten
guineas for it; and would not part with it for ten
times that sum.
I used to like my Friend Ennice's visits at first;
but when she began to find fault with me, and to
dictate what I ought, as a Friend, to do and to wear,
I lost her favour, by objecting to comply with her
wishes. One morning she came early, and I received
her in my common morning attire, a simple blue muslin
dress.   After the usual salutations, she said, " she
wished to sit silently for a bit."  I immediately put
on my gravest face, and respectfully sat down near
her, wondering what was to come. The pause was
very long, and then she told me, that for many weeks
o1.
245
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SITTING ON DRESS.
past, it had been on her mind to sit with me-"' On
thy dress, my dear, on thy dress." She seemed so
overcome with the weight of her burden, and sighed
so deeply, and paused so long, that although it is usual
to sit perfectly silent, I thought it would relieve and
assist her were I to speak; so I said, "What is it that
displeases thee in my dress; surely I am now as simply dressed as thyself."
" Ah! my dear"-and she gasped and smiled alternately-" a real Friend ought not to wear blue; but
it is not that alone; but look at the vain fashionlook at thy sleeve"-and she drew it out to the full
extent;-" and look at thy skirt-what waste of material; it is one half nearly wider than mine."
I could not resist the temptation to say playfully,
"Well now, Friend Ennice, let us compare it altogether. Thy dress is just what a real Friend's ought
to be, and mine is so unfriendly that it draws down
thy censure. Thine is, I see, a dark green, Irish
tabinet; blue must have been used to dye the green;
blue and yellow, both very unfriendly colours, and
mine is only simple blue. My sleeves are too wide;
thou hast no sleeves at all, but then thou hast an un commonly well-shaped arm to show. My skirt is too
wide, but look at thine; thou can'st not walk across
the room without holding it up, it is so long; so what
I have in the width, thou hast in the length, and as
to expense, my muslin has not cost me one-tenth the
money thy tabinet has cost thee.
She laughed outright, and tapping my cheek said,
246
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SITTING ON DRESS.
"Thou art a strange young woman; who, but thyself,
would ever think of commenting on my plain dress;
but, my dear, thou should'st not indulge in so unbecoming a levity, on so important a subject; and I am
to blame for listening to thee; it was not as an acquaintance, but as an overseer, that I came to speak
to thee; and I must do my duty, and inform thee,
that Friends are not satisfied with thy general appearance.  Really thou must give up thy own will, and
take up the cross. Thou wilt only, at first, feel it irksome; and besides, thou wilt be thought much more
highly of by Friends."
I was going to speak, but checked myself, lest any
reply might annoy her; but she said, in an affectionate voice, "Now, my dear, tell me, wilt thou not
yield?  Speak to me, and tell me freely, what it is
that impedes thy dedication to usefulness amongst us.
WTould'st thou not like to be one of our representatives to London? I am sure the way might be opened
for thee to perform that service."
"Well, my Friend," said I, "in the first place, I
am not ambitious of that office; but as thou art so
anxious I should take up my cross, and dress myself
as thou dost, I will consent to do so, on one condition,
that is, that thou wilt set me the example, and take
up thy cross, by dressing thyself as I do now. Surely
that is only fair.  Wilt thou?"
"'le," said she, "dress myself up in a blue muslin! I would be ashamed to be seen in it. A common,
vulgar, blue muslin.  My dear, how can'st thou speak
so lightly of serious matters?"
huh11
247
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FUNERAL CUSTOMS.
"IWell," said I, "never mind the muslin.  Thou
shalt have one of my neatest and plainest silk dresses,
and my best straw bonnet."
"Nonsense," she sharply answered.  " I would not
wear thy Babylonish garments for anything in the
world.  Thou hast distressed me very much by thy
levity. I am sorry I came to see thee to-day."
"I should be sorry to offend," said I.  "I only
wished thee to understand how disagreeable it would
be to me to alter my style of dress to please thee;
so, perhlaps, we had better both stay as we are."
She replied, " Thou hast a most extraordinary way
of speaking; but I must make allowance for thee, as
thou art Irish.  Indeed, I don't feel that I can be
offended with thee, although I do not think that any
one ever before spoke to an overseer as thou hast to
me.  iMe put on thy dress!"   And she laughed at
the idea of the appearance she would make. She
parted firom me with apparent cordiality, and even
kissed me, but never honoured me with another visit,
and, soon after, ceased to give me even a passing nod
of recognition; and I think she must have comnmunicated to the other overseers the result of her interview, for I was never again visited on the subject of
dress.
I accepted an invitation to a Friend's funeral, as I
vishied to know how they managed this matter in
England.  The printed card of invitation, though not
in mourning, was printed in a very sombre style. It
informed me that a carriage would be at my door at a
248 
FUNERAL CUSTOMS.
certain hour, and that after the funeral, the dinner
would be at a specified time.  The hearse and eight
carriages, which formed the cortege, were painted as
dark a colour as possible, without being black.  We
hadl three sermons at the grave, expressive of the estimation in which the deceased had been held, and then
we went to the dinner.  It was just a regular company dinner, plentiful and good, with abundance of
sweets and wines. We were all very grave. Who
could help being so, whilst the very shadow of the
grim monster was over us?  But still, conversation
was kept up.  All the women members of the family
were in new dresses, of the very darkest shade of
brown; and when I remarked, that it was more than
a week since the death had taken place, the eldest
young Friend answered, " Yes; but it is a great hurry
in a week to get so many dresses made up." And
yet the Society considers it a sin to wear mourning! I
have known instances of whole families leaving us, in
consequence of the displeasure incurred by persisting
in wearing that customary tribute of respect to the
dead.
How absurd! let a sober man think for an instant,
and discover if he can, what connection there is between piety, true spiritual piety, and the colour of
our garments-the purity of the soul, and the extent
of his head cover!
Can any rational being bring those two things into
discernable connection? or show in what way the salvation and sanctity of the soul are confederate with
249 
SCHIISIM.
the outward garb of the body? Did any of the apostles indulge in, or appoint such habiliments?  Was it
made a part and parcel of primitive Christianity?
" What a disgusting contrast to true godliness is
there in all this parade of folly.'Pure religion and
undefiled before God and the Father is this, to visit
the fatherless and the widow in their affliction, and to
keep ourselves unspotted from the world.' These are
but Popish mummeries; and when the soul is so besotted as to receive such things as the all in all of
godliness, there is no limit to its madness. When it
is remembered that an excessive partiality for externals has ever attended an infidel disregard of the letter
and spirit of Christianity, we exult in every frank and
manly effort that is made to quell and crush the incipient evil of superstitious vanity."
This extract is from an article on Popery, in the
Achill Herald. It is equally suited to Quakerism, in
which the external appearance is the chief care; and
as I have heard some of themselves say, " the foundation stone of the Society." 
Whilst I was a member of the Bristol Meeting, there
was a great schism in the Society. Some were in
the habit of meeting once a week, to read and study
the Bible, compare text with text, and converse together on the meaning and teaching of the inspired
Word. This led naturally to some great discoveries
of the unscriptural doctrines of the Society. With
simple uprightness, these Bible-readers imagined that
they were doing an acceptable service to the others,
250
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METHOD OF GETTING INFORMATION.
by pointing out the discrepancies they had found, and
a book, or rather several books, were published: "The
Beacon," "Holy Scripture the Test of Truth," &c.,
&c. The result was very different to what had been
expected. The main body held tenaciously to their
cherished errors.   Meetings for the study of the
Scriptures were suppressed, conversations on religion
forbidden, and the term "Beaconite" applied in derision to all who dared to think for themselves.
Some of the best preachers, and many of the most
enlightened and worthy men and women in all parts
of England, on this, seceded from Quakerism. And I
may add, the greater number of them, after wavering
about amongst the various sects of Dissenters, finally
settled down into sober members of the Evangelical
Church of England.
Another development of the working of Quakerism
was brought under my notice, by a very unexpected
and unannounced visit which I received from two of
the women overseers-Sally Adams and Anny Draper.  They informed me that in consequence df having heard a report that Rebecca Gardiner was supposed to be contemplating a marriage out of the Society, they had called on me to ascertain the truth of
it, as they knew that Rebecca was an intimate friend
of mine, and that I would be likely to know all about
it.
I told them, "I was surprised they should come to
me on the subject, and that even if I were, as they
imagined, well informed on it, I would certainly re
251
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252     METHOD OF GETTING INFORMATION.
fuse to betray the confidence my friend had placed
in me.
"Ah! now," said Sally, "it is really trying to
hear thee speak so, or use such a word as betray. We
have a very arduous office to perform, for thou knowest, as overseers, we are liable to blame unless we
impart suitable admonition to the young woman."
"It is thy bounden duty," said Anne, "to give us
the information we require. The Monthly Meeting
will hold us to have been negligent of our office, unless admonition has been timely given to the young
woman.
"1 Why do you not go to Rebecca herself," said I,
" and ask her."
i Oh!" said Sally, "because thee sees, after all, it
is only a rumnour we have heard; and if it is altogether false, as rumours sometimes are, it would be
injudicious to mention it to herself."
" It might put ideas into her head," said Anne,
"that maybe never were in it; it would not be prudent to go to herself, until we know morq about it.
Thee must tell us."
"If I did know all you ask me to tell you," said I,
' I would decline doing so. Ilow can you ask me to
be guilty of such a breach of friendship?"
"We will not let thy name appear," said Anne.
"No, indeed,"  echoed Sally,  " she shall never
know that it was thee told us."
"We never give up the name of an informnant,"
said Anne
r
k 
METHOD OF GETTING INFORMATION.
"I can give you no information," said I.
"Sure thee don't mean to say thee will put us off?"
said Sally. "Who is there but thyself would be likely
to know about it, to tell us? It is astonishing the
difficulty we have in getting private information, and
we can't put Rebecca under dealing without something more substantial than just bare rumour. It is
thy duty to tell us, and really thou must. She shall
never hear thy name mentioned in connection with
our dealing."
"Suppose," said I, "you dismiss the subject from
your minds-why trouble yourselves about a rumour?"
"Come," said Anne, "there is no use in our staying here any longer, she wont tell us. And remember," said she to me, "thou art not to mention to
Rebecca that we have called on thee."
Thou had better not mention it to any one," said
Sally.
I was one evening in a company of Friends, when
the topic of conversation was the conduct of a lady
who had recently fled from her husband's houses The
husband himself, and his brother, my old acquaintance, Friend Gregory, were present; and the chief
speakers were an elderly lady sitting on the sofa next
me,         whispered-" Is it not very bad taste in those
two         men to speak thus publicly of a circumstance
which they ought to blush to hear mentioned?"   "I
do not know the lady they are speaking of," said I,
"or        what was the cause of her flight."  "I knew her
very         well," she answered,  "she was a very nice         22
253
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254     METHOD OF GETTING INFORMATION.
looking young woman; but her parents, who are both
preachers in our Society, acted very injudiciously towards her. They forced her to marry that man who
had nothing on earth to recommend him but his
wealth. She was, of course, unhappy. He is an
odious man; and perhaps it was to cheer her depression, or perhaps to induce forgetfulness, but certainly
she got into the habit of putting a few drops of brandy into her wine, and of taking it a little too often.
Then he, and Gregory, and the rest of them, upbraided her, and tormented her so much, that really
it was no surprise to me to hear that she had fled
from his house.  But let us listen to what Gregory is
now saying.
" I found out," said he, "that it was to one of the
fashionable watering places she had gone; and as I
could not trust any one to find out all I wanted for
me, I resolved to go myself, and that she might not
suspect any thing I disguised myself."
"How didst thou disguise thyself?" asked one of
the party.
" I disguised myself," said Gregory, as "a gentleman. I got a black double-breasted coat with a collar
on it, a velvet waistcoat, and black trowsers. I bought
a gold chain to hang over mny waistcoat, and a gentleman's hat; no one would have known me. I soon
found out where she was, and by night and by day I
watched her, until I found out all I wanted to know."
And he chuckled and rubbed his hands with glee, at 
WEDDING AT AN INN.
the idea of having discovered that his sister-in-law
was living a life of sin.
"Ah!" said the husband-an ill-shaped, unprepossessing looking plain Friend —" was not Gregory
very clever to think of disguising himself?"
" Iad he only assumed the habits, as well as the
dress of a gentleman, the disguise would indeed have
been complete; but perhaps he could not do that,"
whispered the lady beside me.
I mention this circumstance to show, that there is
no meanness which may not be resorted to, when
Friends resolve to disown one who has incurred their
displeasure. As for thee, poor erring wife, let a veil
be drawn over thy sad story. Who can tell the agonizing thoughts which burned thy brain to madness,
before the intoxicating draught had touched thy beautiful lips! Who can tell of the floods of tears which
drowned the light of thy soft beaming eyes, before
the fountain was exhausted which left them dry, cold,
and scornful? Who can tell of the bitter words,
of the heartless unkindness, which first chilled, and
afterwards destroyed, thy woman's feelings and affections? Great as was thy fall, they who witnessed
that evening the unmanly triumphing, and indecent
garrulity of thy husband and his brother, can well
believe thou hadst been more sinned against than
sinning.
I was favoured with an invitation to a curious wedding. The dinner was to be at a hotel, not an unusual customn in England.  Both bride and bridegroom
255
I 
WEDDING AT AN INN.
were very rich; so no expense was spared, and the
best fare was ordered. The arranging of the procession into Meeting was not done in the orderly way
they conduct these matters in Ireland. The different
couples walked in, and sat down julst where they
pleased.  At dinner it was the same-no order, no
attention to ceremony, was observed.  I never, before or since, dined with so unmannerly a set of people. However, I was highly amused watching the
scene, and looking at the awkward attempts at carving, and the visible enjoyment of the eaters. As to
the bridegroom, he very nearly devoured the whole of
the little roast pig which was before him; and the
way some of those Friends spoke was so new to me.
"I am glad to see thee.  Bee'est thee very well?"
"Be'ent thee pleased to see the bride looking so
bravely-?" "I don't think there be a nicer young
woman in our meeting." As soon as dinner was over,
we rose from table, and went to the other end of the
long ball-room, in a corner of which we had dined;
whilst the waiters, who could scarce do their business
for laughing at the uncouth company, laid on the tea
and bride-cake. Again we sat round the table as at
dinner, and the large cake soon vanished before the
vigorous onslaught of those wonderful eaters. The
whole affair was over, and we had taken leave of the
very elegant and graceful bride, by six o'clock in the
evening.
256 
RETROSPECT.
CHAPTER XIILI
Retrospect-Radicalism-Devonshire  Overseers'  Advice-Indepen dents- Wesleyans-Plymouth Brethren-Cathedral-Curious cus tom-Return to Ireland-Adventure with Smugglers-Jacob rules
-A  First Day Morning Meeting-Ballyhaganites-Reasons for
joining the Society-A Convent-Music mistaken for Hebrew Ignorance and its results.
Wlio can turn over the volume of memory, and not
meet many a page blistered with the tears of suffering and sorrow?  God has mercifully granted that
man shall have a feeling akin to pleasure, in the recollection of bodily pain; and the innocent joys that
are past, grow brighter and brighter, as they shine
in the light of years gone by. But there are wounds
which time can never entirely heal-which still bleed,
when the covering is removed, and must continue to
do so, until warmed by the dawn of the glorious light
of eternity.
My bark had floated lightly over many a stormy
wave. The breakers had been around and about me,
and I had been many a time drenched with the spray;
but I heeded them not;-smooth water was before,
and a bright sky above me, and those I loved were
by my side.
22*
il
257
PI  
RETROSPECT.
Death came, and with his unerring arrow pierced
my father. I felt then the smart of that keen, sharp
cut, which the dread messenger alone can give. I
loved him with the most intense affection. I thought
him when living-and now, after the lapse of many
years, I think him still-to have been the very best
and most perfect of all the erring sons of mortality
whom I have ever met with. Never was he known
to speak an unguarded word; never was he known to
do an unkind act. And his death was happy, as his
life had been most blessed. The carriage was at the
door for him to take his accustomed( drive, and he was
eating a morsel of bread for his lunchl, when the summons came, and fould him ready.  htis lips moved,
he faintly uttered the words, "Lord, thou knowest
that I love thee," and all was over.  My father! my
father! thou art not dead.  Thou art living in the
realms of glory; and often in the dreams of the night,
I see thee standing at the gate of the heavenly Jerusalem, waiting to \velcome me in, and to lead me to
the footstool of the throne of the Redeemer.
My father was most conscientiously a Quaker. For
his sake I feel an interest, even now, in the Society
he belonged to; and the warmest wish of my heart in
writing these sketches is, that " the dry bones may be
shaken."  That as I have had opportunities, far more
than others, of seeing and knowing the way in which
the machinery has been worked-as I have been in side the doors which carefully locks up the wheels,
and have been well nigh smothlered( by thie dust which
258 
RADICALISM.
is accumulated there, I may, by directing attention to
the neglected state of that apartment, be instrumental
in causing it to be cleansed.
All nature is progressing, and Friends have been
foremost in spending their wealth to promote what
they call Radical Reform. And yet-oh! strange
inconsistency!-they are the staunchest conservatives
of those odd dogmas, which, having been handed down
from father to son, endorsed with the words-" best
wisdom," are now allowed to pass current amongst
them, almost to the exclusion of that pure gold of the
realn, on which alone is stamped the king's image.
I was one evening in company with several very
orthodox Friends, when Radicalism was the theme of
conversation. One said, he had given fifty pounds
for the Radical dinner; and another, that he had given
one hundred.   Said another, "I had not a hundred
to give, but I went to it, and it was a glorious scene."
"Yes," said another, "I saw thee there; and when
Lord John Russell's health was drunk, and the cheering was most uproarious, I saw thee take off thy shoe,
and pound upon the table with the iron heel, till the
glasses danced again."
These speakers were all men who would have shrunk
with horror from the idea of wearing a double-breasted
coat, or of going inside the door of a Church. Such
is man!
Some of our family being in delicate health, we
resolved to go and live in Devonshire, hoping that the
259
p 
260      DEVONSHIIRE OVERSEERS' ADVICE.
soft and balmy air of that beautiful county, might
invigorate the invalids.
We were not long settled in our charming home,
when I was favoured with a letter from two of the
women overseers. They required me to inform them
did I attend Friends' Meetings regularly? and asked,
did I wish to be still considered a member, for the
purpose of having a certificate sent for me. I replied,
that of course I was a member, and had not any intention of leaving the Society; but that I did not now
attend the Friends' Meeting, as the nearest to my
home was forty miles away from me.
Some weeks elapsed, and then came another letter
from the same two Friends, telling me that having
made anxious and due inquiry, they had ascertained,
that although the nearest Meeting-house was forty
miles off, still I might be enabled to uphold the precious doctrine of our Society, respecting silent Meetings. They informed me, that in a small country
town, eight miles distant from my residence, there
lived a man Friend, whose name they kindly gave
me.   This man, they told me, was in the habit of
sitting in his own parlour on first day mornings, and
had expressed a more than willingness that I should
go, and sit with him at that time. And these wise
women-two old maids, by the way-actually required
me to comply with their advice-to drive sixteen
miles every Sabbath morning, for the ridiculous, not
to say indelicate, purpose of sitting in the parlour,
back of a cutlery shop, for two hours, with a middle
r, 
INDEPENDENTS-WESLEYANS.
aged bachelor.   To save me from the impiety of
attending a place of "common worship," those two
steady, highly consistent overseers, wrote this sage
advice to me. I did not answer that letter; but I
keep it as a curiosity of Quakerism.
They wrote to me a third time on the same subject;
but that letter came at a time when my heart was
lacerated by a double bereavement, and it escaped my
attention. The grave had opened, and in one short
week received both my mother and sister to its dark
bosom.  They descended into it, in the sure and certain hope of a glorious resurrection. Tears for my
own loss, and joy for their happiness, banished from
my mind the memory of my annoyance  from the
overseers.
I had still very much of the Quaker feeling of dislike to the Church service; and the Quaker idea, that
any form of dissent was to be preferred to the State
Church, haunted my mind.
I could not go to Meeting; it was forty miles off.
I would not go sit with the man Friend; and for the
sake of my young family, if not for conscience sake,
I must choose some of the places of "common worship."  First, I visited the Independent  Meetinghouse, and did not like it. The preacher there enforced on his auditors the duty of signing petitions to
Parliament for Reform, with more energy than suited
my idea of a Christian minister. Then I went to the
Methodist preaching-house, and my Quaker feelings
were shocked with seeing a fiddler stand up to raise
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PLYMOUTH BRETHREN.
the tunes. Besides this, they had the water for baptism brought into the Church in a common, small,
blue, earthenware bowl; and I thought that did not
look nice for a place of worship; but the preaching
was very good, and I went there regularly, until they
changed the preacher. Ihis successor was a politician;
so I left. Then I went to the meeting of the Plymouth
Brethren; but I could feel no unity with them, in what
seemed to me an insult to the Almighty. They would
not ask a person of rank to meet them in such a den, as
they had thought good enough to consecrate to the service of the King of kings. It was a loft over a stable.
You had to pass through a coal-yard to the half-ladder,
half-stairs, by which it was gained. A dark, dirty,
small, mean room, with an unceiled roof; and, in the
evening service, two shabby chamber candlesticks
were placed on the top of two men's hats, on a little,
ricketty deal table.  The brethren were a wealthy
body, and built up good houses for themselves.
Not liking any of these places of worship-and I
will not say that my dislike to them was a reasonable
one-I was compelled either to stay at home, or to
go to the Cathedral. I went. The Scriptures of the
day were a balm to my soul, and some of the beautiful prayers in the service touched a chord which still
vibrates to the sound. The preacher was a sportsman;
and when speaking of the sin of maligning our neighbours, he bade us "mind what we were about; and,
instead of poaching on other people's manors, to confine ourselves lawfully to our own preserves."  I did
262
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ESTABLISHED CHURCH.
not like the sermons. We were only favoured with
such instructions once a fortnight. Every alternate
week the Sacrament was administered, and on that
day we had no sermon; but the Scriptures and the
service more than compensated me for it. They suited
my state of mind; and with them I felt, that let the
preacher be what he might, the auditors were independent, and could worship God in spirit and in truth,
whilst the instruction of the Scriptures, prevented any
one from feeling they had been unedified.
This has always appeared to me to be an inestimable blessing in the Church of England and Ireland.
If the preacher is a good man, and an eloquent
speaker, it is a privilege to receive instruction from
his lips; but if he is deficient in knowledge or in gifts,
still the humble, upright Christian is sure to receive
some food for his soul, from the appropriate and intelligible prayers of the service, and from the inexhaustible treasury of God's Holy Book. This is the
great and blessed peculiarity of that Church. Well
may the lover of freedom and independence chvrish it!
In all the various sects of Dissenters, the people are
dependent on their ministers for edification. They
may or may not read the Scriptures-I believe all
except Friends do; but it is often a very minute portion. Preaching is the important part with them, and
the quality of that varies exceedingly.
The Devonshire people have some original customs
amongst them. One I will mention, as it is uncommon,
and will probably, as the tide of reform sweeps on,
263 
RETURN TO IRELAIrD.
become extinct. In the shops, wherever I made purchases amounting to, and over, one pound, I was invariably asked to walk to the upper end of the shop,
where was placed a chair on a nice piece of carpet.
The shopman would leave me there a moment, and
returning with a neat small tray in his hand, he would
present me with a glass of wine and a slice of plum
cake.
Domestic circumstances having occurred, which rendered it desirable that we should remove to Ireland,
we resolved to make the journey a pleasure trip.
Sending the rest of our family direct, with our two
eldest children, we drove from Devonshire to Liverpool in our own light phaeton, stopping here and there,
as fancy or fatigue induced us, and seeing all the
beauties and wonders of nature that lay in our path.
We were six weeks in accomplishing this most interesting and delightful excursion, and like all other
travellers, we met with some adventures.
Our guide-book described the valley of Trentishoe
as being delightfully wild scenery; so we turned off
the high road to see it. When once you ehter on a
Devonshire by-road, you must go on, there is no retreating. Every half a mile or so, you will meet with a
gateway or a nook, where it is just possible to pass
another vehicle; but on you must go through the beautiful high hedges, up and down hills, short, but almost
perpendicular, which the country people call "smart
pitches," and over ruts and stones, which tried even
the temper of our pet black mare. At length we got
Th
264
I 
ADVENTURE WITH SMUGGLERS.
through the hedges, and emerged on a kind of conmmon; there were car tracks to guide us, but no living
being seemed there. The scenery was very lovely all
around; hill and dale on one side, purple with the
mountain heath, on another, ornamented with plantations. And the sunbeams glittering on the sea, as we
caught a glimpse of it occasionally between the hills,
reconciled us to the difficulties of our path. The wheel
marks that we were following, led us down a hill so
steep and winding, as to make us anxious lest our
equipage should roll over and over. We had to drag
on, and held the back as firmly as we could, to assist
our willing steed. We reached the bottom of it in
safety; when, to our dismay, we beheld the road-way
ascending up another hill, steeper if possible than that
we had just come down. Our mare looked up the hill,
snorted, and refused to stir. She had never before
balked at her task, and we knew she would not now,
had it been possible to accomplish it. We had lost
our way; evening was coming on, and not a creature
near to guide or direct us.
There was a small barn or house in the valley. We
went to it. The door was fastened. We called and
knocked, no one answered. The window was just
under the thatch, and up so high that we could not
look in. We unharnessed the horse, and led her to a
stream of water hard by, where she could crop the
grass banks. Then we seated ourselves on the ground,
and, drawing out the basket, which we always took
care to have well stored on these nomadic excursions,
23
265
ol 
ADVENTURE WITH SMUGGLERS.
we eat and drank, and laughed at the dilemma we
were in. Whilst so doing, a little child crept near us.
Where he came from we did not see, and he was too
young to speak. We put into one of his hands the
leg of a cold roast chicken, and into the other a piece
of bread, and off he ran towards the barn. The door
was opened for him, and a tall, bony young woman
appeared on the scene. We asked her for meal or
oats for the horse; but she was very surly, and said she
had not anything, that she was a poor lone creature.
We offered her food, she took it, and asked what
brought us there? We told her that we must have
mistaken the road, and mentioned where we had intended going.   She then  asked me-" Aint  you
afraid?"  I said, "No, what should I fear?  We
have done nothing wrong, we have not harmed anybody."
She left us abruptly, and soon returned, bringing
a bundle of hay, and a plentiful drink of meal and
water for the horse.  "Ah!" said I, "you are a kind
woman after all, to give us the very things we want
most." She smiled, and went back to the barn, bringing this time a tumbler of raw spirits. We tasted it,
to show that we appreciated her good intention, and
the remainder she tossed off, as one well used to the
intoxicating draught. Again she went to the barn,
and with her came out, one after another, one, twoaye, six-tall, fierce, daring, resolute-looking men.
"Lend a hand here, my good fellows," said my husband; "that decent woman there, I believe, was afraid
266
4 
ADVENTURE WITH SMUGGLERS.
of me and the children." They touched their caps,
and becoming immediately most respectful in manner,
lent a ready aid in every way they could. We again
tried to mount the hill, but in vain. The horse could
not go up it; and yet there was the recent track of
wheels on it. The men whispered among themselves,
and then told us there was another way out of the
valley, and that two of them would accompany us. We
thanked them, and they turned the horse's head. One
of them led her, and the other pointed out the path we
were to walk on, by the side of the stream, which
after passing through a grove of tall trees, opened out
into a small river. It was into the bed of this river
they led the horse and phaeton; and when a large
stone impeded the wheels, the second man lifted it
out of the way, and returning, kicked it back to its
place, as one well practised at such work. For about
half a mile we toiled on through the river, and then
turned into a field. Our guides pointed out the way
we were to go, told us there was either a gateway or
a broken hedge to pass through, until we reached
the high road, some two miles further off.  "It is a
poor place, sir," said one of them, " it is not worth
coming to again."
" Never fear," he answered, "we will neither come,
nor send any one to visit such a lonely place as you
have chosen." The man smiled; he saw he was understood; and we parted, mutually well pleased to do
so. Fromn one of the hills we passed over, we looked
back to the scene of our adventure, and saw the tall
267 
OVERSEER'S VISIT.
spars of a rakish-looking vessel, peeping up in a creek,
which could not have been more than a stone's throw
from the place where we had dined.
I had been a very short time in Ireland, when I was
favoured with a visit from a lady overseer, who told
me, she had been desired to call on me, by Friend
Oversight, who had received a letter from one of the
English overseers respecting me.   The lady herself,
as well as Reuben Oversight, were strangers to me;
at least, I only knew them by name. I begged to be
allowed to read the letter; but that was refused me.
The lady was very polite. She gave me to understand
that the letter from England intimated that I was
somewhat deficient in orthodox Quakerism; that I had
not made my due appearance at Meetings; and that
there would consequently be a difficulty about my certificate. I told her there ought not to be any difficulty,
as I had never knowingly transgressed any rules of
the Society.  "We have been told," said she, "that
thou hast frequently gone to Church."
" Yes," I replied, "often and often; but there is
no rule to prevent my doing so."
" There is in Ireland," she answered.
To find it acknowledged, that the "inspiration"
which had guided Friends to draw up their rules
for England and for Ireland was different, surprised
me, and led me to inquire the cause, which I ascertained to be this.  Some years before, three or four
of the Dublin Friends had warmed themselves up to
an almost enthusiastic excitement about the minor
268 
THE JACOB RULES.
characteristics of the Society. The principles and
the peculiarities had hitherto been considered independent of each other; these ardent Friends wished
to see them amalgamated. A peculiar costume was
not an original attribute of Quakerism. Nothing of
the kind was contemplated in the days of George
Fox and William Penn. They recommended a Christian simplicity of dress, in contra-distinction to the
extravagant and most foolish fashions of the day,
when women would sit up all night lest they should
spoil their elaborate head-gear by reposing on a pillow, and men wore chains to fasten the long points of
their shoes up to the knee. Dress was now to be
made an essential. Two, or perhaps three women,
and one man, Joshua Jacob, who is now the leader of
the sect of the White Quakers, assumed great power
in the Monthly Meetings. They planned out of
Meeting, and they professed in it great zeal for the
regeneration of the Society.  No body took sufficient
interest in the matter to oppose these reformers. By
a little clever manceuvring, they succeeded in gaining
their desired point, of having new rules inserted in
the books; and in making them so stringent, as that,
whoever refused to submit to them, should be disowned. They decreed, that any one who kept a piano
in the house should be cast off. Any one who put on
a black dress for a deceased relative, should be disunited. Any one who went to Church, or to any place
of worship but Meeting, should be separated from all
connection with them.
23*
269
r
ok 
THE JACOB RULES.
These, and several other such like rigorous ordinances, are now called, "the Jacob rules;" they are
marked in the Irish Book of Discipline, by the date,
1836-that auspicious year, when, as a Friend told
me, a new light had dawned on the Society, and fresh
vigour been infused into its legislation.  It is true,
that Joshua Jacob has left the Society himself, and
incorporated one in which the primary rule is, that
the members attire themselves in undyed garments.
They have cast honesty and even morality away, as
needless attributes, and are wholly and entirely repudiated by the body they once belonged to. It is also
true, that the women who helped him to pass those
rules, and who, by their style of preaching, by treating
the external forms as the primary duty, were mainly
instrumental in having these tyrannical records of ignorance and bigotry placed on the same page as that
which inculcates the Christian doctrines, have seen
fit to disown all connection with him.  Yet the rules
remain; and whilst the Society, now, unanimously
censure the man, they pertinaciously retain his alterations and additions.
The Pope, claiming infallibility, cannot annul any
act. In the same way, I suppose it is, that the Friends,
having the " inspiration of best wisdom," cannot recall
any of their decisions. I have heard many regret
that the rules of 1836 were ever placed on record,
but none spoke as if it were possible they could be
rescinded.  It was on one of those rules that I was
to be tried and found guilty.
2 i'O
LI
W 
FIRST DAY MORNING MEETING.
However, Friends are very slow in coming to their
decisions in general; and, as I was a very difficult
case, there being no accusation against me except the
one, that I sometimes accompanied my husband to
Church, he having many years previously left the
Society, they kept me several years "under dealing,"
during which time I was earnestly engaged in ascertaining what state the Society was in all over the
country. I travelled about a good deal, and attended
the Meetings, took notes of the sermons, and made
minute inquiries.
I had often heard queer stories told of one of the
Northern Meetings, and being in the neighborhood,
curiosity led me to attend it. The edification which
was one Sabbath morning given to somne hundred
ignorant people there, was as follows:
A Friend, whom I shall call Tobias, rose up in the
gallery to preach; and first pressing his hat firmnly on
his brows, began thus:-" I have hitherto been in the
habit of taking off my hat when addressing you. I
yielded to your weakness in doing so, but I'cannot
any longer do it; for I have heard a voice in mine ears,
saying unto me,'See thou do it not.'"  An old man
then rose up, and vehemently pounding on the floor
with his thick old walking-stick, on the top of which
was a ram's head for an ornament, shouted out, " Sit
down, Tobias; sit down with thyself, I say. Thou
art a ranter; or if thou must speak, go speak to thy
own people." But Tobias heeded him not, and went
on thus-" The cause is removed, the cause is removed;
271
L 
FIRST DAY MORNING MEETING.
therefore the effect must cease. There is an elder,"
and he pointed with his finger-" she is a liar, and I
can prove it to her face."  He pointed to another"There is a Jezebel." And to another-" There is
an elder, who climbed up to power on the shoulders
of his friend, whom he first cringed to, and then betrayed." During all this, the ram's-horn stick did its
duty bravely, and the old man vociferated, " Sit down,
Tobias, man, sit down." With such discourses as these,
and when the Meeting chanced to be silent, watching
the mice as they crept out of their holes, the hours
were spent, that were professedly set apart for the
worship of the Most High. I have often inquired of
those who, being in authority in the Society, ought to
have been able to inform me, on what portion of
Scripture Friends grounded their practice of holding
Meetings for the public worship of God in silence?
And I find there is no Scripture warrant for this departure from the order appointed by St. Paul, in his
directions to Timothy; but that there is some confusion in Friends' minds between spiritual worship and
silent worship, which, however cannot be explained,
as they do allow the silence to be broken by both
preaching and prayer, and still maintain its spirituality. A dear old Friend, an elder, once told me, the
text in the Bible which satisfied his mind was this"There was silence in Heaven for half an hour."
But, he added, "I believe George Fox and William
Penn were more likely to know what was right for us
to do than either thou or I can be."
272 
BALLYHAGANITES.
There is a class of Friends who are called Ballyhaganites.  They are for the most part poor farmers and
labourers, ignorant, as might be supposed, of books
and men, and manners.   Quakers are universally
proud of their isolation from the world, and of their
fancied superiority in the appreciation of spiritual worship.  These Ballyhaganites plume themselves much
on their connection. They are very regular attenders
of Meetings, and strain a point, whenever they can,
to go to the Quarterly Meetings, where they are sure
to be invited to the houses of the rich Friends, and
where they are as sure to be made great fun of by the
young ones. I have heard of a dozen of them being
shown into one room where were three beds.'" There,
boys, sort yourselves," said the conductor, and vanished. Except at Quarterly Meeting dinners, these
people never tasted wine. One of them was observed
to relish the flavour of it; but he would say, "I'll
take some wine, if thee please, for my stomach's sake."
The entertainer became impatient, knowing his man,
and exclaimed, " Oh! be whipt to thee mans  can't
thee say at once that thee likes it, and don't be talking to us about thy stomach."
A lady was one day rather annoyed at seeing a
troop of the Ballyhaganites come in to join a dinner
party, which she had carefully selected of some very
aristocratic Friends.   She ordered a table to be laid
for them in another room, and deputed her son to
superintend their repast. This youth, to play a trick
on them, and to punish his mother for banishing him
273
li' 
BALLYHAGANITES.
from the select company, placed before the " awkward
squad," as he called them, a large glass dish-full of
calf's-foot jelly.   He had previously taken care to
have no spoon left in the room; a fork for each man
was the only accommodation; and with imperturbable
gravity, this youth informed them, there was the dinner, and to help themselves. They had never seen
such a dish before, and at first thought it was all glass;
but they were hungry, and wished to appear as if not
ignorant of the food placed on a rich man's table.
Fork, after fork, was struck into the transparent luxury, but all in vain.  It would slip back.   One said,
"Will thee give us a spoon?"  " Certainly not," replied the youth, "Thee would not be so ungenteel as
to eat that dinner which my mother has taken so much
pains to have nice for the Quarterly Meeting, with a
spoon. I would be ashamed to tell her thee had
asked for one." They tried hard to eat it genteely
with the fork; but at last gave up, and hand after
hand was plunged into the dish. To see those hands
which the day before had held the plough, thus employed, was just what this youth wanted. He laughed
aloud. A laugh is infectious, and the Ballyhaganites
joined in it most vociferously, whilst they still swallowed the jelly by handfulls. The noise they made
brought in a servant from the dinner room, to know
was anything the matter; but the youth met him at
the door, and bade him say that all was right, and the
Friends were only enjoying themselves. It was now
time to place the second course on the table, and the
2T4 
REASONS FOR JOINING THE SOCIETY.
lady, in a whisper, directed the servant where to place
the dish of jelly. It had vanished from the side table.
The truth flashed across her mind, and in an uncontrollable panic, she rushed into the room where the
Ballyhaganites were just licking their hands, after
demolishing her beautiful and anxiously prepared
sweetmeat.
A young man, many of whose connections were
Friends, applied to be received into membership. He
put on a very broad brim, and took off the collar of
his coat. He was admitted. A lady was telling me
about him, and saying, that she could not understand
what had induced him to join the Society, when he
crossed the room and took a seat beside us. She then
addressed him, "Well, Richard, I was just saying,
that I could not imagine, what had induced thee to
join our Society. Do tell me what it was?"
"Well then, Edith, I'll tell thee," he replied: "I
have had my fling of pleasure, and am tired of it. The
Friends are a very well to do people; they have fine
credit; and I thought I could get on betterwamong
them."
"But," said Edith, "thee had to be convinced,
Richard, how did thee manage the convincement?"
"My coat and my hat," said he, smiling, "were
undeniable proofs of convincement. I had not any
trouble about that. Cousin Joe was one of the Friends
sent to visit me by the Meeting, and he was the very
man who first advised me to apply for membership,
275 
A CONVERT.
and told me how well I would be likely to prosper, if
I played my cards well."
" Take care," replied she, " thee has some of the
old leaven about thee still. To speak of cards in
Friends' company! I did not image there was much
of religion in thy conversion. Now thee has joined
us, I hope thee wont disgrace us. If I had been one
of the Committee sent to visit thee, I would not have
let thee in so easily."
"' Well, Edith, you and I; I beg pardon, thee and
I, know two or three things, that we are not going to
tell any body, but just wait for two years, and thee
will see me a standard bearer. As soon as ever I can,
prudently, I'll begin to speak to the Discipline. I'll
be very humble, and very tender in my spirit, and I
think I'll marry one of the Creidie girls. They have
five thousand a-piece I am told, and that will just set
me up nicely."
Two years after this, Richard was married to the
eldest of the Creidies; and, moreover, was made assistant clerk to the meeting. 
One of the queries of the London Yearly Meeting,
requires to be informed of the number of persons who
have joined the Society by convincement.   Many
years will often pass over, and no convert have his or
her name recorded. When one has been returned, it
is a cause of great gratulation; and as the custom is
to wait for the leadings of "best wisdom," in admitting a convert, in exactly the same manner as the
276
l 
A CONVERT.
ministers are appointed to a seat in the gallery; so,
if that convert should at any time after his admission,
give evidence of being a most unrighteous man, he
may be notoriously a hypocrite or a knave; dishonourable in his dealings, or false to his word; yet the
Meeting will rather pass over, and cover up his transgressions, than either put him under dealing or disown him; as in so doing, they must admit the possibility of their own "best wisdom" having been an
erring guide.
I was lately invited to go to the Dublin Meeting to
hear the preaching of a convert who is now all the
fashion. I was told that he was a most wonderful
speaker; that a short time ago, he had been a common dragoon soldier, who was convinced of Friends'
principles in one of the London Meetings; had applied
for membership, and had been admitted; and that his
preaching now, was so very acceptable, that he had
received a certificate expressive of the London Meetings' unity with him, and giving him permission to
travel the nation, and to sit with Friends' famiies as
"truth may open the way."
In the year 1836, when the Irish Friends rejoiced
in the new light which Joshua Jacob, the leader of
the White Quakers, and his female assistants, had
conveyed to them, they made a rule to disown any
one who should allow music in their houses.   Some
of the Friends have a natural taste for music; it is
one of the gifts of God to them; and they cannot
help loving those sweet sounds, which find an echo in
24
2-77 
IMUSIC MISTAKEN FOR HEBREW.
their own mysterious being.   Some three or four
Friends denounced the science; but very many can
see no sin in cultivating it, and this leads to many
scenes which are altogether Quakerish. A piano is
often kept in back and upstairs-rooms, to which no
overseer or plain Friend is ever admitted. Musical
boxes are very common indulgences; and flutes,
French horns, and cornopians-instruminents easily put
out of sight-are great favourites.  But if this departure from Friends' principles is found out, the
overseers are on the alert immediately, to visit and
remonstrate.
One day an overseer called to visit a young lady.
The guitar was easily slipped behind the window curtain; but she entered the room whilst the music still
lay open. Her eye glanced round, as an overseer's
eye always does; she saw no piano-it fell on the
music-book.
"Is that Hebrew," said she; "I often heard it
was a very curious character?"
"It is a curious-looking character," answered the
young lady.
"Can thee understand it?" said the overseer.
"Oh! yes," she answered, "I can read it very
well."
"Thee must be very clever," said the overseer.
Head knowledge is at a discount with the Society.
I have been intimately acquainted with many overseers, both in England and Ireland; and I never knew
but one, male or female, who was not exceedingly
278
I
9"
I 
IGNORANCE AND) ITS RESULTS.
deficient in scholastic acquirements We read that
"the wicked walk on every sides when the vilest mnen
are exalted;" may we not conclude, that the exaltation
of ignorance has been a conducing cause of the extreme  degeneracy into which  Quakerisnm  has now
faBlcI,
279 
DEALING-VISIT.
CHIAPTER XIV.
Dealing-visits to prevail on me to send in my rcsignation-Yearly
Meeting Sermons-The Garret-English Overseer visits in Dis guise-Ministers' Sitting-Disowned- Chancery suit a punishment
for slighting Women's preaching.
As I was living near the Friends' Meeting-house,
and therefore a very frequent attender of it, having
still in my mind the fallacious idea, that a disregard
to the peculiarities of the Society, whilst I held the
doctrines, was compatible with membership, I was
surprised to receive notice of an intended visit from
no less than four Friends together.
Now that it is all over, and that I have been enabled
to shake off the yoke, I can smile at the recollection
of this formidable visitation. Then it was not so. I
could scarcely sleep or eat for thie three intervening
days; and being in a nervous, delicate state of health,
I was really very ill when I was summoned to appear
before these awfully sombre, stern-looking disciplinarians-two men and two women.
With cold formality they shook hands with me all
round, and then seated themselves. The silent waiting for "best wisdom" now came on, and lasted unusually long. It was a very cruel suspence to keep
280
i 
VISIT.
me in; for though I had had many visits from over seers before this, still I had never been "under deal ing," and I was quite at a loss now to conceive what
was the transgression for which I was to be chas tised.
The Friends exchanged looks at each other, and
then one of the men took off his hat, and laid it slowly
on the ground beside him. He fumbled in his pocket,
and at last drew out a pair of spectacles, which he
duly placed upon his nose, and, looking me in the
face, began to speak thus-" We have been appointed
by the Monthly Meeting to visit thee. Perhaps it
may be well to read to thee the minute of the
Meeting."
The other, a very dark-looking man, rose up very
slowly, and silently handed a paper to him.
He fuminbled again in his pocket, got out another
pair of spectacles, and placed them on over the first
pair.
People may talk of mesmerism; but the spell which
is cast over a poor delinquent when four overseers,
one of them with two pair of spectacles on, are sitting
in judgment over her, is equally or more enthralling.
I could not exactly tell what was my crime, but I
felt as if guilty; and it was with a nervous dread that
I waited to hear my accusation read by that sternlooking man. I asked for a copy of it when he had
done, but he refused it to me, so it was only from
memory I could write it down. The purport of it was,
that the English Meeting had written a private letter
24*
281 
VISIT.
to Reuben Oversight, which gave a bad account of
me. I never could get a peep at that letter. Reuben
had informed the overseers, and they had, without
telling the  Monthly  Meeting the particulars,  got
themselves  appointed to visit me.   In  the  most
respectful  and deferential manner, I remonstrated
against the injustice of a private letter, which I was
not allowed to see, being admitted as any evidence
against me.
One of the women  then began to speak thus"Friends are well aware that thou art in the habit of
sometimes going to the steeple-house.  That of itself
is quite enough to cause thee to be put under dealing,
and thy general appearance condemns thee. How
canst thou reconcile it to thyself, one day to attend
to the ministry of an hireling, and another, to sit in
our Meeting as a pure spiritual worshipper? Thou
canst not serve God and Mammon. Either give up
being a Friend entirely, or give up the attendance at
the steeple-house. It grieves me greatly to see thee
departing from our customs.  I had hoped better things
of thy father's daughter. Think, my dear Friend, how
it would grieve that precious departed relative, if he
could see thee living in the neglect of any of our valuable testimonies. He was a light amongst us; thou
wilt never find out for thyself a better way. I really
cannot imagine how thou canst reconcile to thyself
wearing dresses, and going to places, which thou knowest, if he were alive, hlie would not approve of. Thou
shouldst imitate him.
2 8 ")
61 
VISIT.
I replied, "I will imitate him. What he was, he
was conscientiously. Whatever I am, I will be so
too."
The other woman then began-" I do not feel easy
to sit here, and not remark on thy very unbecoming
interruption. No one wants thee to do anything but
what is conscientious. I do not suppose thou art so
vain as to imagine thyself wiser than our worthy predecessors were. Thou art placed in a very responsible
situation as the head of a family, and it is by submitting thyself to due subordination that thou wilt be
enabled to direct thy children aright. I feel well assured that if thy dear father were alive, thou wouldst
not act as thou now dost, running after a hireling
ministry. Yielding to those imaginings of thine own,
may seem very specious; but it will,bring thee into
trouble; and, when too late, thou wilt repent having
refused to take up the cross, which is the only way to
secure the crown."
I made no reply. The dark man seemed to fear I
might feel hurt, and said, "I hope our Friend will
understand, that it is not with a wish to censure her
we came here. It is our wish, by a timely remonstrance, to save her from adopting a system which
certainly cannot lead to peace.  It is for her own
sake, and for the sake of her father's memory, that we
wish to press upon her the necessity of reconsidering
her steps."
There was now another long silence; at its conclusion, the Friend who haid the two pair of spectacles on?
283 
VISIT.
addressed me.   "If our friend has any remark to
make, I believe we are prepared to receive it.  We
feel a great difficulty in the case. It would be very
desirable to know from our friend herself, what course
she intends to pursue. The meeting would then be in
a position to perform its duty."
I then said, that being a member of an English
Monthly Meeting, I should think my certificate should,
first of all, be sent over, as that was the rule according to the Book of Discipline.
No reply was made to this remark, and after another long pause, they rose up to depart; the visit
hlaving lasted altogether more than an hour.
The woman Friend who had first spoken, at parting, drew me to one side, kissed me, and told me the
Yearly Meeting would soon be held, and that she
hoped I would attend it. I promised her I would do
so, and she then kissed me again, and said I had
pleased her much by so readily consenting to take her
advice. As her manner was so affectionate, I ventured to ask her was I to consider myself as being under
dealing.  She said, "no, I think not, at least not regularly under dealing, but we have been desired to visit
thee, and I wish we had a more satisfactory return to
give. I wish thou wouldst promise not to go to church
any more."  "Oh! no," said I, "I cannot promise to
give up my liberty. I have not, that I know of,
transgressed any of the English rules, and what more
can you require?"  "I am sorry for thy own sake,"
said she, and took her leave.
284
b.. 
YEARLY MEETING-SERMONS.
Not very long after this visit, an elderly lady, with
whom I was intimate, was speaking to me about it.
She told me the English Meeting had sent my certifi cate over; but that the Irish Friends had refused to
accept it. That the English Meeting did not feel they
had ground to disown me on, although my going into
a Church was sufficient evidence of my departure from
Friends' principles, and the Irish Friends, for many
reasons, did not like to have on them the odium of disowning me, as it might look like bigotry, and besides,
it could only be done on the "Jacob rules," which
many of the Society regretted had ever been inserted
on the books.  She then said to me-" Thee ought to
send in thy resignation; it would relieve Friends from
a great difficulty, and be better for thyself.  I am
sure I would resign, if I were situated as thee is."
The Yearly Meeting came on in due course; and
as I had promised, I went to the first sitting on second
day morning. The routine was just the same as I
have already described. Two of the sermons or preachings were curious, I thought.  One lady said,  " her
mind had been awfully impressed, since she had taken
her seat, with the conviction, that there was one
amongst us who, neglecting the shinings of the light
of truth in her own heart, had fallen into temptation.
There was one, and she felt as if she could walk over
and lay her hand on the individual, who had tampered
with duty, and who was, even at this moment, entertaining the idea of uniting herself in marriage with a
person not of our Society.   She said it was painful to
285
Po" 
SERMONS.
her, to feel called on to speak on this weighty matter,
and she hoped the dear individual would be kept from
the snare which now entangled her. For her own
part, she had resisted as long as she dared, the pointings of her own mind; and now she felt she was clear,
having, as a faithful watchman, given notice of the
approach of the enemy."
The other lady, whose sermon particularly attracted
my attention, was an English minister of very high
reputation, who had come over to attend the Yearly
Meeting.   She said, "it was deplorable to witness
the wasting in our highly favoured Society, which had
crept in, she felt bold to say, from our culpable neglect
of what some deemed the minor doctrines, which had
been given us to uphold. As it was minutes that composed the day, and days that composed the year; so
it was the minor doctrines being faithfully upheld, that
led the exercised mind on, step by step, to the high
appreciation of our doctrine of pure spiritual worship.
And it was when the door was opened, by departing
from the minor doctrines-she might say the peculiarities-that the enemy came in like a flood, and swept
away even our most precious testimonies." She said
much about the value of our sectarian dress; it being
a shield to defend us from the allurements of the world.
And then she expressed great surprise that any who
fancied themselves to be religious, could bring themselves to think it was compatible with Christian duty,
to frequent places of public worship. She paused a
moment, to rivet attention, and add solemnity to the
286
PI 7 
THE GARRET.
words, and then added-" They who do so, I have no
hesitation in saying, sully their souls with a dangerous
iniquity." This English minister had been informed
of the difficulty Friends felt about poor me; and some
of them told me afterwards, that it was very remarkable how she had been led to speak words so exactly
suited to my state; and how they hoped better things
of me, than that I should pertinaciously resist the
spiritual travail of so exalted a minister.
As I was leaving the Meeting-room, the same two
women who had visited me with the men  some time
before, pushed their way through the crowd, and tapping me on the shoulder, said, they requested me to
accompany them to a private room, as they had somewhat to say unto me.
They led me up stairs into a small garret. As I
passed along with them, marvelling what was to come,
I received several sly glances from my acquaintances,
and one whispered audibly, " There goes a naughty
child."
Up in the little garret, these two Friends, speaking alternately, slowly and in a half-stifled voice, informed me that I was not to attempt to go to Meeting
ever again. They had been desired to inform me,
that I had forfeited my privilege of sitting with
Friends; that Friends were not comfortable at having
me among them. I was amazed, and said, "Why,
it is only a month since you yourselves came to visit
me, with the two men Friends, to remonstrate with
287 
THE GARRET.
me, for not going to Meeting often enough; and now,
when I come, you tell me I must not come."
" It seems contradictory," said one of them, "and
I greatly regret it; but my very dear friend"-and
she squeezed my hand-" if thou would'st give up
going to Church these trying things would not happen.
Thou must not blame us; we are only informing thee
as we have been desired to do."
" If thou art resolved to attend a place of common
worship," said the other, " thou should'st send in thy
resignation at once; it would save thyself and us
much trouble, and be more creditable for thee."
"I was born a Friend," I replied; "I do not intend to send in my resignation. If I have transgressed any of the rules of the Society, you can disown me; if not, what is my offence?"
"That is our great difficulty," said the first speaker; "if thou wast a gay, fashionable woman, and frequented balls and theatres, the way would be easy
for us; but we all know thee to be a religious character. Hlowever, thee must not attend Meeting
again." And again she kissed me.
As I came down from the garret most of the Friends
were gone. Those who remained, were curiously
watching how I would take the "wholesome discipline" I had been receiving. There was one whose
eyes shot out a gleam of malicious triumph as I
passed; and I felt assured she had been the prompter
of the disgrace I had endured. Every body knows
that it is only very bad people indeed, who are taken
288
7-I 
THE GARRET.
up to the garret, and I had been so in the most public
manner.
I was agitated and annoyed, and somewhat indig nant too, at the wanton insult I had received, but
said nothing. Fortunately, as soon as I went into
the street, I met a gentleman who knew me. Seeing
me ready to faint, he gave me his arm and conducted
me safely home. I told him and several others of
my acquaintances the circumstances; and, acting on
their advice, I wrote to some of the most influential
Friends, requesting the protection, which, by the
rules, I knew I was entitled to. I received no written
reply; but was told that the two women had acted,
injudiciously; that it was only one individual in the
Meeting who had objected to my presence there, and
that she had taken too much upon her in directing the
overseers to lead me up to the garret, or in any way
to prevent my going to Meeting. Two or three told
me they had been desired to convey me an intimation
that nothing of the kind should happen if I went
again, and that Friends would be glad to see me
there.
The originator of this intended insult, was soon
found out; her eye, as she caught mine, when descending from the garret, had truly told her enmity.
She was reprimanded in the gentlest way possible, for
having increased the difficulty Friends were under
about me; and then she said, I had surprised and
disappointed her very much. She thought I had
289
20 
THE GARRET.
"some spirit, and would, whilst smarting under the
insult, have sent in an angry resignation."
This lady had often professed a more than common
friendship for me, nor had any act or word of discourtesy or unkindness ever passed between us. But
she was an acknowledged minister; and my attending on the ministry of an "hireling," as she called
all preachers, except Friends, in preference to her
"inspiration of best wisdom," was an unpardonable
offence.
I was now subjected to almost daily annoyance;
cold greetings and averted looks met me on all sides.
My nearest relatives became unkind; the trustees of
my marriage settlement refused to perform the duty
they had undertaken in my father's life-time. My
correspondents wrote me angry invectives, at the conclusion of which, I was in the most polite and friendly
language unmistakably given over to the enemy of
all righteousness.
These things tried me very much, and I became so
ill that my life was despaired of.  The Friends did
not wish that I should actually die. They wished to
punish me, to make me feel I had done an evil thing,
but they did not desire that it should be known so
publicly. Some awkward whispers had been heard,
that the Quakers were persecuting to death one of
their body, for having gone to Church. They relaxed
a little; they would send messengers to the house of
the Doctor who attended me, to inquire of my
chance of recovery; and, when I was convalescent,
290
t-7 
ENGLISH OVERSEER VISIT.
they allowed nearly a year to pass over without an
noying me.
One evening, in the dusk, an English man Friend
called on me. He had, when we lived at Clifton,
been a frequent guest at our table, and now, under
the guise of friendship, he obtained admission.
He chatted of all the passing news, told me of his
marriage and such-like affairs, and then abruptly
asked me why I had not sent in my resignation to
the Meeting, as he had heard that I was inclined to
leave the Society? I smiled, and asked him, was he
an overseer, and had he been desired by the English
people to visit me? He was altogether a man of
business, when I had known him before; and now,
being enveloped in a fashionable roquelaire, with large
fancy tassels hanging down, I had not suspected what
he afterwards acknowledged, that he was now an
overseer himself, and come to find out some accessible
point of attack. He became very angry when I put
those questions to him; he lost both his temper and
his manners-he never had a large stock of either;
and assuring me I should deeply repent my folly if I
persisted, and that if I would resign, and save Friends
the annoyance of disowning me, I should find it much
better to my interest.  He withdrew.
This was the only visit, of the very many I received, in which the Friends were not studiously polite. They were often cold, and stiff, and stern, harsh
and unbending, but, with this one exception, they
were polite.
291 
MINISTERS' SITTING.
I was soon after this informed, by note, that two
ministers wished to " sit with me," and that at twelve
o'clock the following morning they would be at my
house.
Disagreeable as these kind of visits had ever been
to me, still I was really desirous of hearing any thing
they had to say. My prejudices were all in favour of
the Quaker doctrines, as I had learned them from
books; and whilst quite resolved not to surrender my
liberty to love and associate, even in what is slightingly called "common worship," with other denominations of Christians, I was determined to submit to all
the legitimate authority of the sect to which I belonged.  It was very evident that the overseers were
seeking occasion against me, and it was notorious that
they were prompted to do so by some parties influential in the Meeting, who had never forgiven my husband for leaving the Society, and, moreover, " spoken
slightingly of the ministry" of one of the preaching
women.
The two ladies duly came. One was affectionate in
her manner, the other chilly. They invited me to
sit between them, and the silence commenced.   It
lasted for about a quarter of an hour, and then the
English Friend spoke. She said-" That a painful
feeling had been the covering of her mind, and that
she felt an unusual difficulty in breaking the silence.
It was a strange thing for her to sit in solemn, silent,
spiritual waiting with one who had been nurtured in
our highly-privileged Society, and who was related to
292 
MINISTERS' SITTING.
a gifted minister in it; who had been the object of
great travail to many exercised minds, and was yet
unwilling to take up the cross.  She was free to say,
that it was incomprehensible to her mind, how one
who had been so laboured with, could walk, and feel
peace in so doing, in the way that was not goodwalking like a lame man leaning on crutches, unable
to go alone; depending on the arm of flesh; drinking
out of the muddy water of a man-made ministry, and
deserting the pure fountain of living water. People
might flatter themselves that they had found a safe
path for their feet; they might reason, and delude
themselves with their specious reasonings.   There
were some who, even in reading the Holy Scriptures,
thought a light had come on them, which would give
them a greater liberty in what they called Christian
comnmunion. These things were very specious and
soul-deluding. The arch-enemy was ever busy putting a gloss on them, to attract the unstable, who
wrest the Scriptures to their own destruction.   It
would be well, if those who think themselves enlightened, would carefully peruse the writings of our valuable predecessors, and submit their judgment to the
experience of those devoted founders of our Society.
Depending upon our own unfinished imaginations, was
not wisdom-it was rashness.   The wisdom of this
world was foolishness. They who had most peacefully trod the path of life, who finished the work that
was given them to do, and who had passed from works
to rewards, were humble-minded; they were willing
25'
293
i-:1 
24MINISTERS' SITTING.
to be taught; whilst many, who had indulged in the
fashions and customs of the world, had, in the hour
of sickness and death, to endure great conflicts, because of their inconsistency. And she hoped the
dear Friend for whose welfare her soul now travailed,
would be made willing to come down, and to sit as a
little child at the feet of the Lord. To do this, there
must be a yielding; there must be an entrance into
silence; there must be a forsaking of the outward
form of man-made worship; there must be consistency
in all things with the precious testimonies, which we,
as a people, are called upon to bear in the sight of
the world."  She paused for a couple of minutes, and
then knelt down to pray, that her " dear, dear Friend
might have her eyes anointed with eye-salve, to see
how piercing was the reed on which she had been
leaning-to see the beauty of holiness-and to understand, that peace and happiness were only to be
found in the path of duty. That the proud heart and
the stiff neck might be taken away-and that, with
the beautiful humility of a little child, she might be
made willing to follow Christ, as she herself had done,
and in so doing to find peace."
She then rose up from her knees, and resuned her
seat in silence. It had not lasted long, when her
companion commenced, and spoke thus-:
"The feeling of my mind in this interview, is that
of love and sympathy, and Gospel fellowship. That
my dear Friend should have thought it right to follow
on some paths in wbich. I do not walk, may be a source
294 
MINISTERIS' SITTING.
of regret to me; but I do believe, that as she has, I
am convinced, endeavoured to walk uprightly according to the light she has received, her intention will
be accepted. The peculiar spirituality of our worship
cannot be duly appreciated, except by the spirituallyminded; and some, even of that number, there are,
who do not see as we do, on this all-important subject.
The blind man, when partially enlightened, could see
men, but they appeared to him as trees walking; yet
it was the healing touch of Christ's hand that had been
on him; and so, my dear friend, it seems to be with
thee.  Thou must submit to a further operation, before thou canst perceive the glory and the beauty of
true spiritual worship. The desire of my heart for
thee is, that thy spirit may be introduced into that
silence, in which alone thou canst scripturally expect
that the Sun of righteousness shall ascend with healing on his wings for thy salvation. Oh! think, I entreat thee, how vain it is to seek for peace in the rites
and ceremonies which poor, frail, ignorant men have
devised. How vain to hope for light or instruction
from the ministry of those, who are themselves ignorant of the Spirit's work."
About a fortnight after this visit had elapsed, when
I was sent a formal notice, that two of the men overseers were appointed by the Monthly Meeting to visit
nme. They were, neither of them, men of whose piety
or wisdom I had had reason to think highly, but the
reverse. Nevertheless they were respectfully received,
as messengers from the meeting.
295
61
F 
DISOWNED.
After faithfully bearing their testimony against
taking off their hats, as other men do when they come
into a house, and have no need of out of door covering for the head; these two attempted the usual silence,
and tried their very best to look solemn. The attempt
was a failure, and soon given up.
One of them said, "They had been desired to inform me, that Friends had been told, that I had deviated from the doctrines of the Society, so far as to
suffer myself to be baptized, and to take what was
called the Lord's Supper, and that they had been desired to ask me, was that the case? as I must be aware
that I could not hold my membership, and that Friends
would much prefer that I should send in my resignation, than compel them to disown me."
I said; "Will you be so kind as to tell me who it
was that informed you I was baptized, or had taken
the Lord's Supper?"
Oh!" replied one of them; "I believe it is unnecessary to mention the name of our informant. As
it has come to the knowledge of Friends, I,trust thou
wilt now see the propriety of sending in thy resignation."
"I do not see the propriety of doing so," I replied;
"and I request, and I have a right to know, who has
told you this of me."
They looked at each other, and seemed much annoyed.   "I think it would not be right to mention
any name,  said one.  "Thou knowest it cannot alter
the fact; and as thou hast departed from our Scrip
296 
DISOWNED.
tuiral views on these important doctrines, and that it
is therefore impossible for thee to remain in membership, thou wilt relieve Friends from what is really a
very great difficulty to them.   Friends feel it very
unpleasant to disown thee; and really for thy own
sake, we hope thou wilt, now that this matter has been
revealed to us, feel the propriety of writing to the
MIonthly Meeting."
"If," said I, "you have really been told these
things, it seems to me strange, that you should object
to mention the name of your informant. I beg you
wvill tell me who it is?  If you still refuse, I must
only draw the very natural inference, that you suspect
me of having done these things, and by intimating
that you have already had information, you expect to
obtain from nme the confession that your suspicions
are correct."
"Thou must not think this," said he; "we do not
mention any name, no good could result from so doing.
It is contraryto our invariable practice.  And thou
canst not deny that it is the truth; therefore, really I
cannot understand why thou shouldst care to know
more than we have told thee."
"If," I replied, "any person told you that I have
been baptized, or taken the Lord's Supper, they told
you so, falsely.  It is not true."
The two overseers looked very blank, and exceedingly annoyed. One of them opened his mouth so
wide in his surprise, that I could scarce help laughing,
for all I was so annoyed, at what seemed to me the
297 
DISOWNED.
meanness of the trap they had, as they thought, so
artfully laid for me.
Before long, another visit was announced to me.
The Mleeting now sent two different men, to try if
they could find out some salient point, at which I
might advantageously be attacked.
If I had refused to receive these visits, I knew that
I should be disowned immediately. That was a principal reason why so many of them were inflicted on me.
The Friends knew that I was in very delicate health,
and that those interviews were painfully disagreeable
to me. Nothing would have gratified them more than
that I should have refused to receive them.
On the present occasion, as well as at all the other
interviews, I had insisted on having a friend in the
room with me, as it did not suit my ideas of propriety
to meet them, as they requested I would, according to
the custom of Friends, all alone. And besides, I was
anxious to have a witness of what passed.
MIy present visitors did not attempt the usual silence,
they chatted of the weather, &C., &c., at first; and
then, just as a matter of business, said, they "had
been desired by the Monthly Meeting, in consequence
of a communication from England, to visit me. That
my attendance on an hireling ministry was incomnpatible with the rules of the Society, and they merely
wished to ask had I determined to continue such attendance."
I replied, that I certainly often did attend at different places of worship; but I added, no Friend could
298 
DISOWNED.
more object than I did to an hireling ministry; that
I denied ever having knowingly attended.
"Oh!" said one of them, "If thou acknowledges
going to Church, that is all we want; it is the same
thing. Those who preach in Churches, must be hirelings, for they take money for preaching. It is absurd
to deny thy approval of an hireling ministry, and to
acknowledge going to listen to the preaching of men,
who give up their whole time to doing it, and then
take money for it." "Do you consider," said I, "that
every one who derives his support from the congregation to which he preaches, is an hireling?"
"Certainly," he answered.
"Then," said I, "is not your own Friend, Sarah
Dwyer, an hireling? She has been, for nearly two
years, I think, receiving her entire support from the
Meeting. I have been told that both herself and her
daughter are liberally maintained, and their travelling
expenses paid. Is she an hireling?"
Hie laughed. " How did thee hear that?" said he.
"We did not think it was generally known. nut she
is not a hireling, oh! no. Only her expenses are paid.
Indeed it is time for her to go home; for she is very
heavy upon Friends."
He then said, that "the rules of the Society were
framed by men who were especially enlightened with
divine wisdom, and that they must be obeyed. That
the rules were very clear, and that any one who countenanced an hireling ministry, must be separated from
the body."
299
w 
DISOWNED.
"Are all the rules," I asked, of equal importance?" 
"Undoubtedly," he replied, "the rules of our Society, as they appear in the Book of Minutes, have all
proceeded from the Spirit of truth, and are, one and
all, equally essential."
"Some of the rules," I said, "are not attended to by
any of the Friends; how is that, if they are all of equal
authority?"
"Thou art mistaken," he said, "there is no rule
neglected."
I rose up from my seat, and handing over the Book
of Minutes which I happened to have near at hand, I
pointed out the rule that all Friends should have their
children taught to speak and to write both High and
Low Dutch.
He laughed, and said, "He did not before know
there was such a rule on the books, but that really he
did not know much about the book; it was not very
interesting, and he must say, he had never read it all
through."  He and his companion then chatted about
politics, the prospects of the country, &c.,'&c.; and
on shaking hands to go away, they said, "they had a
very interesting and agreeable visit, and they would
report it to the Monthly Meeting as most satisfactory."
I had not the least idea of what they meant by the
expression of "an agreeable visit," and "most satisfactory;" but before long it was made clear enough.
They returned an account to the Meeting, by which
it was sent on to England, that I had confessed to my
300
I
.1 
CHANCERY SUIT.
encouragement of an hireling ministry, and that I had
joined the Church. Now I was to be condemned by
my own words, and as quickly as they could hurry it
through the Meeting, my disownment was to be issued.
And it was with words of regret, but with looks of intense satisfaction, that on the next visit they handed
me "the testimony of disunion."  There was very
much that seemed to me unaccountable, in the desire
these people evidently had to turn me out of the Society, for up to the time they disowned me, and for
long after it, I had not transgressed any of the rules,
nor had I been justly or fairly treated.  As  a member of an English Meeting, the Irish Friends had no
right to put me under dealing at all, even had I transgressed.
The truth was, the woman Friend, of whose ministry we had spoken slightingly, a very long time ago,
had resolved to punish us for doing so. She and some
others, concocted a plan; they contrived to ingratiate
themselves into the favour of a very old lady, who as
well as themselves, had a kind of claim on some of our
landed property. She poor lady did not believe that
" an inspired minister" could do wrong; and consented
to do as they wished, which was in her name, to put us
into the Court of Chancery-which is described in the
Times Newspaper as being "a devouring gulf, a den
from whence no footsteps return; a name of terror, a
bloodless arena for mutual destruction. A Chancery
suit which is endless, bottomless, and insatiable; an
organized iniquity; an incurable evil; an inveterate
26
301
I 
CHANCERY SUIT.
wrong. A Chancery suit which starves the education
and spirit of youth, consumes the energies of manhood,
and makes a clean wreck of old age. As for a thousand pounds, it is but as the morning dew before the
burning sun of a Chancery Suit, amongst the evils of
which are the multiplicity of forms, and the opportunities it affords for vexatious and malicious delay."
Nobody can leave the Society of Friends, without
enduring some species of persecution; and we were to
be made examples of, that none might ever again dare
'"to despise women's preaching."   To  put us into
Chancery, which was a notoriously suitable way of
ruining our temporal affairs, and, at the same time, to
preserve the testimony of Friends against going to
law with each other, it was necessary to disown me.
They claimed a small portion of our property, by
virtue of a will made in 1839, under their own dictatorial influence, and when the reasoning powers of the
dying man were plastic in their hands-a will, of
which they told the old lady, with sanctimonious
audacity, that it bore the evidence of divine aid in its
composition. We claimed it, and had possession of it,
'by virtue of a marriage settlement made in 1829.
Nothing could have been better devised for a Chancery cause.
As we were not then aware of the animus of the
suit, we complained to the overseers of the injustice
of it; and to avert the ruinous waste of property, offered to pay their demands out of other properties,
without any dispute as to the legality of their claims.
302
k
w
I 
CHANCERY SUIT.
This they all acknowledged to have been a fair offer;
but it would not have ruined or wasted us sufficiently;
we must be punished. And whilst they persecuted
us, they wished to keep a fair face on the matter, and
constantly made excuses for the litigation.  " It was a
minister who conducted it, therefore it could not be
wrong."  "It was too complicated a case for Friends to
interfere in." "The Court of Chancery would surely do
us justice."  "The Friends who had instituted the
suit were most consistent Friends; it was incredible
to say they were actuated by any unworthy motives."
We " belonged not to the Society, and had no claim
on their interference."  "They did not believe it was
for the purpose of persecution, and they regretted we
should be so unkind as to say it was."   "They had
full confidence that the parties we had thought fit to
censure, would do no act without waiting for the manifestation of divine light to guide them." "It would
be a curtailment of the liberty of the subject to prevent Friends going to law with persons not Friends."
And, " They could not see what claim we hal on the
Society, or why we should expect them to interfere
for our protection."
So for ten years the suit went on, and still seems
as far off being settled in the Court of Chancery as
it was the day it began.   But many and many a long
bill of costs had told us, that to speak slightingly of
a woman  Friend's preaching, is an unpardonable offence to the whole Society.   The case had been ofli
803 
CHIANCERY SUIT.
cially brought before them; and though they certainly
abstained from openly sanctioning it, they positively
refused to interfere, although, privately and indirectly,
they put the whole weight of the Society in the scale
against us
3'04 
SAN.D-MAA —MEAL-MAN.
CIHIAPTER XV.
Stories of the Sand-man, the Meal-man, and tile Elder-Adoration
of the Quaker D)ress- Cleverly Scroggins-Slipping into Heaven
-Disbelief of eternal puiitihmient-Appeal-Petty persecution Tithe Stories-Chantcery Suit-Munificenrt Donations-Vindictive
Punishments.
EVERY body has heard of the story told of a Quaker,
who called aloud to his apprentice to come listen to the
Bible reading, as soon as he had finished sanding the
sugar. The story may not be so generally known, of
the Quaker who contracted to supply meal for the
poor, during the time of famine, struck a good bargain
for himself in so doing, and then adulterated it with
some atrocious mixture, expecting that none would
care to look after the interests of the poor.
What rank in the Society was held by the sandman, I do not know, but the meal-man was, and perhaps is still, an elder, in good esteem. That-and
for which he was in open court indignantly reprimanded-was not thought of sufficient consequence
to draw down any notice from the Society.
Roman Catholics openly profess to keep no faith
with heretics, and with them, all are heretics who are
26*
805
tl 
THIE ELDER.
not Roman Catholics. Quakers do not, as a body,
disregard fair dealing, and the laity of the Society
in general, act as other Christians in their communication with their neighbors; but the overseers are
very slow to take up an accusation of fraud against
either an overseer, elder, or minister. I have heard
of no less than seven charges against one elder, for
dishonorable conduct in his business. His Meeting
professed to give due attention to the complaints, dismissed the several complainants as quietly as they
could; but the guilty elder was not subjected to any
"dealing," nor did he ill any wise sink in the general
estimation of the Society.
I have known of a gentleman who was grossly
wronged by a plain Friend; and who, having in vain
sought redress at the hands of the overseers privately,
at length went one first day morning into the Meeting for public worship, and told his grievance there.
Then indeed, he was attended to. The sin was now
public, and the aggrieved gentleman, all heretic as he
was, got compensation. 
The adoration with which the Friends regard their
peculiar dress, often exposes them to imposition. I
do not mean that they actually worship their garb;
but the morbid sensitiveness with which they regard
it, is similar to that feeling with which the Romanist
regards, or professes to regard, the pictures and relics
of saints. When the notorious John Tawell was about
to suffer the just punishment of his ill deeds, Friends
petitioned the magistrate to grant them as a favour,
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CLEVERLY SCROGGINS.
that he might not be hanged in his Quaker dress.
Was it not a feeling of adoration for their peculiar
attire that prompted this request? Otherwise, could
it signify in which of the rags of earth his form was
clad? The people thought his conduct a disgrace to
manhood; the Friends looked on it as a disgrace to
their costume.
Hundreds of times I have heard Friends speaking
of the dress, call it "a hedge," which separated us
from the "people of the world," which preserved us
from the snares and temptations to which they were
exposed, and which kept us in safety, so long as we
remained within its enclosure. Perhaps if they had
been able to build the hedge up high enough, it might
be so; if its top had reached to heaven, the enemy of
man might not have been able to get into its enclosure.
But low and earth-born as it is, it offers no obstruction to his advances.
Let a story, in illustration of the system, exemplify
this fact.
Cleverly Scroggins, from being a bad boy, grew up
into a dissolute man. Gifted with good natural abilities, shrewd, calculating, and clever, he had the art
of adapting himself to his company, and made himself so agreeable, as to ensure a welcome wherever he
went. Cleverly and his brother James, his inseparable
companion, were neither of them rich. Their tastes
were expensive; and honest industry was too plodding
a method to suit their soaring genius. The two wise
heads devised a plan which they hastened to carry
307
I 
CLEVERLY SCROGGINS.
into effect. To the extreme surprise of those who
knew them, they all at once assumed the Quaker dress
in its extreme, and with it the Quaker manner. No
hats had broader brims than theirs, and none were
more pressed down upon their brows in Meetings.
No faces were better tutored to look grave, and none
were more obsequious in their attention to the overseers. No Friends were more ready to "drop into
silence;" and none more capable of "centering into
nothingness." The spell soon began to work. The
preachers were delighted to see these two dear young
men so "tendered under their ministry." The elders
were pleased with their gravity, and the overseers rejoiced in their "consistent deportment."
Friends generally, felt bound to notice, and invite
to their houses, the brothers. The women Friends
especially liked to have such convenient additions to
their convivial parties. Nothing could exceed the
good-nature with which they made themselves useful.
They carved well, and thought nothing of going a mile
or two out of their way at night, to escort a ldy home.
It was very natural that wealthy Friends should lend
a helping hand to such interesting and "consistent"
young men; and equally natural that to those wealthy
benefactors they should assiduously devote themselves.
Cleverly's father often said, that the Friends would
one day or other find out the true character of his
sons, whom he was wont to call a pair of unprincipled scape-graces. And when he was told of their
exemplary conduct, and of their "consistent" dress,
'0108 
CLEVERLY SCROGGINS.
he would shake his head, and say, that a bad son,
could not be a good man.
James was taken into the counting-house of a rich
Friend, and gave entire satisfaction to his employer,
until some unaccountable deficiencies led to an examination of the books under his care, and it became evident that he had been embezzling from the day he
had entered on the employment. Excited at his loss,
vexed at being duped, and annoyed at the disgrace
which his unprincipled conduct had brought on the
dress of a Quaker, James was dismissed unceremoniously-told he was as vile a hypocrite, and as great
a villain as could be found in the land; and that
unless he left the country of his own accord, he
should be brought before the magistrate. Ilie fled,
no one knew where.
Cleverly was loud in reprobation of his brother,
whilst he timidly and humbly expressed a hope, that
"they who attended to the shinings of the light of
truth in their hearts, might be preserved from falling."
He rose in general estimation. His brother's fall made
his uprightness stand out in bold relief.
Cleverly managed to ingratiate himself into favour
with a rich old( man, whose grand-daughter was expected to inherit a vast portion. With minute and
unwearied attentions, with well-timed gifts, and conversations interesting, amusing, and yet skillfully interwoven with the pious slang of the Society, he won
his way, and soon obtained a young and wealthy
bride.  He was now a, rich man.a  His house became
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E" 
CLEVERLY SCROGGINS.
the resort of the plain Friends; his appearance was
so orthodox, and his frequent "weighty observations"
in the Monthly NMeetings, gave so much satisfaction,
that many said, they felt it a privilege to be seated
near him, and to meet him in company. Still his
father would say, "Wait a while; he is a hypocrite,
and will yet be found out." Whether this oft-repeated
opinion of his father's was the cause, or whetlier the
Friends had any other reason, did not transpire, but
certain it is, that when Cleverly commenced to speak
on first day Morning Meetings, with a view to obtaining a seat in the gallery, he was visited by the overseers, and admonished to refrain from public preaching. With most deferential humility, he yielded to
their desire. It was, he said, in his "anxious zeal to
promote the good cause, that he had overstepped the
line of duty, and he was most grateful to his kind
Friends for the judicious counsel they had imparted
to him." Cleverly rose higher than ever in general
estimation. If his zeal had led him astray, his humility had more than atoned for the errqr. Years
rolled on, and Cleverly was still referred to as a triumphant evidence of the superiority of Quaker principles in converting a sinner from the evil of his ways.
Cleverly was very wealthy; he kept both town and
country house, and drove his carriage. But Friends
were soon called on to sympathize with him, for now
he became a bankrupt. The occurrence was a surprise to all; but his deportment under the "trying
dispensation" as he called it, was so exemplary, that
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L
i. 
CLEVERLY SCROGGINS.
a subscription was made for him, and feelingly presented by an elder who esteemed him marvellously
well. It seemed curious that he should have managed to pay off every one of his Quaker creditors to
the full, and that the only sufferers by his bankruptcy
should be young children. One who had an opportunity of knowing something about it, did indeed accuse
him of dishonesty, and offered to show the overseers
convincing proof of it. They refused to listen to any
accusation; they said he stood too high in general
estimation, and was so exemplary in his appearance,
that it was uncharitable to say such a thing of him.
According to the rule, he was put "under dealing,"
as bankrupts always are, and whilst the visitings continued he was deprived of course, of the liberty of
sitting in Meetings for discipline.
The Yearly Meeting was soon to be held, and
Cleverly entreated the overseers that he might be
allowed to attend it. Bankrupts are generally disowned summarily. And now to release him altogether
from censure, was unheard of leniency; but the overseers did not feel it right to refuse his request; his
" concern" to attend the Yearly Meeting was so strong,
his humble demeanour was so edifying, and he had so
faithfully maintained "our Christian testimony against
oaths," when called on to swear as to the return of
his assets, that really Friends felt unwilling to put
any impediment in the way of one whom they considered so great an ornament to the Society.  So
Cleverly's bankruptcy passed over uncensured, and
311
.1 
CLEVERLY SCROGGINS.
what is still more extraordinary, hlie was thought better
of than ever. His bankruptcy had not lessened his
wealth. It had, on the contrary, very much increased
it. A month or two before it happened, he had transferred his right to some property to a dear plain
Friend of his. And a month or two after it was all
over, the dear plain Friend had transferred it back
again to Cleverly.
Some vulgar people had hinted at roguery in the
transaction. Friends regretted it had transpired; but
did not feel themselves called on to take any notice
of what they said was most probably only an error in
judgment.
Cleverly's skill in surmounting such kind of difficulties became notorious, and he was employed, at
ample remuneration, to assist others who wished to
accomplish similar ends, but lacked the ability to do
so, and retain their unblemished Quakerism at the
same time.
Money was indispensable to Cleverly; his nice,
lady-like Quaker wife was supplied lavishly with all
needful comforts, and his devoted attention to her
was often remarked on, and applauded. With an
extra shawl for her use hung on his arm, lest an extra breath of wind should arise to render its warmth
desirable, Cleverly would escort her to Meetings, and
to pay visits to Friends, looking so meek, so serious,
and so respectable, that the very sight of him was
edifying. Besides his wife's establishment, Cleverly
had another, and another to keep up. He loved va
312 
CLEVERLY SCROGGINS.
riety; but whilst he managed to avoid open shame
being brought on the Society by his licentiousness,
the overseers did not feel it required of them to notice the frailty of his nature.
He was so candid, so bland, so simple-minded, and
so willing to explain his conduct, which he represented to the women Friends as being a kind of extrarighteousness on his part, being willing, as he said, to
have a misconstruction puf by base-minded people on
the platonic liasons which he had formed for the interesting young females, on whose behalf he tried to
influence them; that the viler he became, the better
he succeeded in blinding the eyes of those who were
so credulous as to listen to him.
It suited the views of the overseers to affect disbelief of his immorality.   They deemed it more for
the welfare of the Society to suffer his wickedness to
go on under the flimsy covering he and they had
spread over it, than by disowning him, to allow the
women and young people to hear mention of the
truth.  "Oh! do not let our women and young people hear of it, anything but that," said one.  "It
is far more desirable, bad as he is, to leave him alone,
than to allow such discreditable things to transpire,"
said another. "He is a wicked old man," said a
third; "but still the young women are not Friends;
and there was lately a very much worse case, thou
knows; so perhaps it would be more desirable not to
take notice of him now, than to have the young people talking about it."
27
313
I 
CLEVERLY SCROGGINS.
The very much worse case was, that of two elderly
delinquents, who were both, not only members of the
Society, but also both ministers, who, whilst sitting
side by side in the gallery, clothed in all the paraphernalia of the Society's most consistent costume,
and for many years preaching to the entire satisfaction of the Meeting, were yet, during all that time,
living together a life of sin.
Many there were who had an interest in Cleverly's
escape from censure; he would, and could do anything they wanted, in "a pious way."  Was it needed
that a widowed mother should be set at variance with
her legitimate heirs, Cleverly was the man to do it.
How tenderly and feelingly would he break to her
the sad intelligence of her own beloved son's crimes;
it was true, nobody but himself had heard of those
crimes; that only showed his kindness in not allowing
her to be surprised by the public report. It was entirely owing to his care that her ears were never
pained by hearing of it through any other channel,
and it was by his advice that she banished her son
from her presence, that he might be spared the temptation of sinning in an effort to regain her lost favour.- It was Cleverly's wisdom that suggested to her
the idea, that to alienate from her son the property
which he had a right to, was a good and charitable
deed; for how could she reconcile it to her conscience
to give so bad a man the means of living in open defiance of the testimonies of Friends! And the reaction was so natural; her feelings embittered against
314
m
v 
CLEVERLY SCROGGINS.
her child, whose crime being enveloped in an impenetrable cloud only made it seem the darker, how could
she better bestow her wealth than on her kind, sympathizing friend, Cleverly? Hle had need of it all;
his ladies were often importunate, and had to be paid
well to keep quiet.
Friends belonging to different and far apart Meetings, all knew their man; it was marvellous the number who employed him, to do what the lawyers call
"dirty work;" and it was equally marvellous how he
did actually accomplish their ends for them. Their
way was to give him plenty of money, and he was to
keep their names as much as possible out of sight.
Cleverly made very much money by these little jobs;
he liked them too; he felt his skill in accomplishing
what others could not; and it placed them so much in
his power, that they were, for their own sakes, obliged
to conceal his hypocrisy. The magistrates, the police, an innumerable number of persons knew of his
immorality; the overseers were made aware of it;
but they said, his dress and his standing in the Society
was such as inclined them to think "the cause of
truth would not suffer in his hands." Cleverly has
been known to go from the house of one of his mistresses, to that of a respectable man, to remonstrate
with him on having neglected to attend the preceding week-day Meeting-to another, to express a hope
that his dear friend would leave off the vain fashion
of wearing the gold chain of his watch outside his
waistcoat; and another he would, with ready tears,
315 
CLEVERLY SCROGGINS.
entreat to take up the cross, and leave off the practice of saying "you and mister." What, but the adoration of his dress, preserved this man from reprobation? How else can we account for the fact, that for
six-and-twenty years he was, though known to be
both immoral and dishonest, held in the greatest
esteem by the rulers of the Society appointed to offices in the Meeting; invited to their houses, and
actually supported by a subscription in his infamous
career?
Many of the men Friends do not consider it any
harm to be immoral; they are never censured by the
overseers for this sin, unless it becomes public. Horrified by the depths of Quaker licentiousness, I shrink
from polluting my pages with any other tale in exemplification of it. Whilst I was in the Society, like
other Quaker ladies, I was comparatively ignorant of
its existence; a succession of those fortuitous circumstances which men call chance, has revealed it to me
to an extent which it is awful to think of.
The mass of the Society cheat themselves with the
idea, that because so many whom they esteem, and
who assume the appearance of religion, follow on a
way which pretends, or which they may in truth believe, to be good, that therefore it cannot be dangerous for them. Men do not risk their temporal prosperity thus rashly; and surely if they were convinced
that religion was a matter which did really concern
them, they would not rest satisfied with merely going
to Meeting, and dressing up their poor bodies in all
316
11
LI
I, 
DISBELIEF IN ETERNAL PUNISHMENT.
the outward forms and fashions of the sect, without
examining and ascertaining their own individual
standing in the sight of God.
I have heard a Friend say he expected, all sinner
as he was, that his aunt, who was a preacher, and
very fond of him, would manage to slip him "into
heaven under her petticoats." Alas! do not most of
the Friends hope to slip into heaven under the shadowv of their hats and bonnets? Heaven and hell,
the day of judgment, and the kingdom of Christ, are
subjects which move them not. Is it not a just inference, that they do not believe in them? Why do
they studiously avoid conversation on these subjects?
There is a deep-rooted infidelity in the minds of the
Friends on the subject of hell. I have seen it oozing
out in the apathy of many, who live as if there was
no eternity. It is manifest in the utter indifference
displayed for the souls of their fellow-creatures; and
I have heard it openly declared in a large company,
without any one gainsaying it, that there was no eternity of punishment. It was a woman Friend, high
in the Meeting, who said, "that it was an insult to
the Almighty, to believe he could be so devoid of
mercy and love to the creatures he had made, as to
condemn them to hell, to eternal fire." She said,
"the idea was right to be taught to the profligate and
to the open sinner, as we would frighten a child with
the threat of a punishment we had no idea of inflicting; but that it was incompatible with the good and
gracious character of the Lord, of whom we are told,
27*
317 
APPEAL.
that'he is love,' and that he is the Saviour of all
men." She added, "Let us believe in the Scriptures,
and lead an innocent and useful life, and we need not
torment ourselves with the fear of eternal burnings;
for if Friends live consistently, there is not the
slightest danger but that an entrance will be ministered for them within the pearl gates; and perhaps
it would be wise not to disturb our minds with diving
into affairs which do not concern us as a people. As
we know that God will act right to all men, let us
act our part well; for nothing will be required at
our hands, but an account of our own walk through
life."
After carefully considering the testimony of disunion which the English Friends had issued against
me, I resolved to appeal against it. I can scarcely
explain why I did so; nor is it necessary that I should.
The "testimony" gave four reasons for disowning me
-a very unusual thing, for one is generally considered enough. The first was, that I had joined the
National Church; the second, that I had refused the
dealing of the Monthly Meeting to which I belonged;
the third, that I approved of, and encouraged an hireling ministry; and the fourth, that I never went to
Friends' Meetings.
Every one of these four sins laid to my charge happened to be false. I had not joined any Church;
indeed I did not well know, as I was living in Ireland,
whether they meant the Protestant Church or the
Roman Catholic. I had never been under dealing of
318 
APPEAL.
the Monthly Meeting to which I belonged.  It was
the Irish Friends who had put me under dealing, on
their own " Jacob rules," without any precedent, and
for the sole purpose of pleasing those individuals whom
I had unfortunately offended. I had never approved
of, or encouraged an hireling ministry; although I
had refused to apply the insulting epithet to all the
honoured clergymen of the Church of England and
Ireland.  And  it was equally untrue, that I had
ceased to attend Friends' Meetings; for I went there
almost regularly once a week. So I gave the regular
notice of appeal, and demanded a copy of all the
minutes of the Monthly Meeting which had reference
to my case. This I had a right to. The English
Friends threw every possible impediment in my way;
and gave me the different "minutes" one by one, with
an interval of a month between each. By chance I
found out that the individuals who wanted to have me
disunited, had much difficulty in making out a case
sufficiently strong for the Monthly Meeting to act on;
for although the Irish Quakers were most willing to
assist them, they had not been able to overcome the
"difficulty" they found in my case, as I had not
transgressed any legitimate rule.  The plan they
finally adopted was-they desired their assistant clerk
to write a private letter to a person living near me,
who they knew was trying to rise in the Meeting, and
would therefore be likely to accept the office. He
was to watch me narrowly, to find out some flaw in
my conduct and character; and if he could not do so,
319 
PETTY PERSECUTION.
he was to invent something which would satisfy the
Meeting, and induce them to disown me. The plan
succeeded; and on those letters I was found guilty,
and cast off from all Christian communion with the
Society in which I was born, and in which still remained many of my nearest and dearest relatives.
One of the letters I obtained, and was able to refute;
the other was positively refused.  They said, "it was
burnt"- " it was lost"-" it did not bear on the case"
-"it was of no consequence." I appealed, according to all due forms, to the Quarterly Meeting, and
was immediately reinstated in membership.
The Friends were very angry with me. It was as
if I had disturbed an hornet's nest-I was stung on
all sides. They do not like appeals. It was, in their
"best wisdom" they had disowned me. The Quartely
Meeting, in reinstating me, had declared, as plainly
as in words, that " the best wisdom" was not good at
all, and I became an object of inveterate hatred to
the overseers and elders, who considered themselves
disgraced by the mere mention of my name. One of
them said, "The name was like a thorn in his side,
and prevented him from sleeping."
I will just relate one of the many instances in which
Friends tried to punish me, for my hardihood in daring publicly to dispute their infallibility. It was on
the occasion of my brother's marriage.  According to
the usual etiquette, I should have gone with him and
his bride into the Monthly Meetings, to hear their
declaration.  These points of etiquette are deemed of
320 
PETTY PERSECUTION.
great importance in the Society; and to disgrace me
by it, they resolved I should not be permitted to enter
the  Monthly Meeting with the bridal train.   One
after another near relative was invited to take my
place, and reftised, because they would not be a party
to the slight intended on me.   The bride's family
were unwilling I should imagine they were individually capable of insulting me; and they informed me,
that it was two high Friends who objected to my company, and who felt reluctance to allow me to sit ten
minutes in the house appointed for worship with
them.
In innumerable such-like little trifling, and almost
indescribable ways I was persecuted, to say nothing
of the great persecution of the Chancery suit, which
was, term after term wasting our property, and by
which we have lost already several thousand pounds,
both directly and indirectly.
When any Friend incurs the hatred of the Society,
it is an easy matter to punish him. His connections
being still amongst them, of course his prqperty is
more or less liable to be influenced; and they are
stirred up-in some cases by slander, as in minein others, by a scruple of conscience to maintain any
dealings with those who have incurred the censure of
Friends-and in others, by a feeling of personal gratification, in chastening the delinquent.
There was another appeal to the Society, just at
the same time as mine, which interested me much,
and which afforded another curious development of
321
I 
PETTY PERSECUTION.
Quakerism. A gentleman of the most upright and
irreproachable character was disowned by the Society,
because he had not, as they considered, faithfully
maintained their "testimony against paying tithes."
He was agent to a nobleman, a large landed proprietor, and, in the discharge of his duty, he had paid the
tithe rent-charge legally due. It was on his employer's account, not his own; but for not suffering a distraint on the property, as Friends do, he was ignominiously turned out of the Society. Ile appealed
against the sentence, and the Yearly Meeting, after
long and serious investigation, decided against him.
They decided, that he should have refused to pay
tithes under any circumstances whatever.   But  it
transpired that they were a little bit ashamed of their
own decision; for they caused it to be intimated to
him, and to all of us, that if he wished to be reinstated in membership, and would apply for it by letter,
no impediment would be placed in his way.
Friends find it very difficult "to maintain their
testimony against paying tithes," in Ireland, where
landed property is so much more in their possession
than in England. Many have been disowned, because
they had not a sufficient elasticity of conscience to
enable them, for the sake of upholding this most untenable doctrine of the Society-to resist their own
sense of right and wrong-their personal advantage
-the law of the land, and the command of Scripture,
"Submit yourselves to every ordinance of man for
the Lord's sake."
322 
TITHE STORIES.
I have heard many stories, told by the actors themselves, of how they managed "to cheat the devil in
the dark," as one of them laughingly expressed it.
In my English Quaker experience, I have told how
"the testimony" is sometimes managed there. The
Irish Friends are quite as clever in a different way.
Thus, a sack of wheat was once placed in a very
conspicuous position in a barn, when it was known the
tithe collectors were coming to distrain. The owner
stood by, and said to them, "Look at that sack of
wheat; I would not for five pounds seven and sixpence
lose that." Five pounds seven and sixpence was the
exact sum demanded. The men immediately lifted it
up on the car they had brought with them, and drove
off a little beyond the end of the avenue; they then
turned back again. The Quaker had not moved from
the spot he stood in.  They said, "Sir, will you buy
a fine sack of wheat from us?  "What is the price?"
asked Broadbrim; "let me look at it."  He opened
the sack, rubbed the grain in his hand, and said, it
was very prime. 
"Come, Sir, be quick, will you  buy it for five
pounds seven and sixpence."
"Yes," he replied, "I will," and drew the amount
out of his pocket. The sack was restored to its proper
place. The collectors received an extra shilling, with
which to drink the Friend's health, and very likely to
laugh heartily at the curious anomaly, a Quaker's
conscience.
A gentleman who has now left the Friends, and
323 
TITIIE STORIES.
joined the Church of England and Ireland, told me,
that when he was a Quaker, his plan of evading the
payment, and supporting the testimony, was, to leave
-as if by chance, cartridges of half-pence rolled up
in papers to a larger amount than the sum demanded,
in a conspicuous place. The collectors would only
take the right sum, and the testimony was upheld
most satisfactorily.
Conscience works in another way in some. A very
plain Friend, who once refused to accept an invitation
to dine at the house of an elder in the Society, because
I was one of the invited guests also; and he said, he
could not reconcile it to his conscience, to sit at the
same hospitable board with one who had incurred the
censure of the Society; he was a landed proprietor.
He scrupled either to pay or to evade the tithe rentcharge. He was of course distrained-his horse one
year, his jaunting-car another. This was unpleasant
-it was unendurable. Martyrdom any way is very
trying —martyrdom of the pocket especially so. This
plain Friend resolved to sell his property, and did so.
He sold it to his own younger brother.  That younger
brother was disowned by the Society for paying tithes.
Now if it was a crime for the elder brother to pay
them, was he not doubly culpable in putting the
temptation to sin in his younger brother's way. But
this is not the end of the story. The younger brother,
disowned by the Society, and now proprietor of the
land, was in want of a tenant for a nice little farm on
it. The elder came forward and offered himself. He
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CHANCERY SUITS.
was accepted; and no scruple of his tender conscience
impeded his enjoyment of the land.
Oh! Friends! Friends! God cannot be mocked.
You will assuredly have much to answer for, in the
day of judgment, for your hypocritical evasions in
paying tithes, if it is a sin against God's law to do so;
and for your refusal to pay them, if that springs from
your imagined "inconsistency of tithes with the nature
of the Gospel dispensation," or even from your "firm
conviction, that to abide faithful in your testimony
against paying tithes, steeple-house rates, and priests'
maintenance, has greatly tended to the opening of the
eyes of many, not only in this, but also in other
countries," unless you can show, that by refusing to
submit to this ordinance of man, you have obeyed the
law of God.
There is only one text of Scripture given by Friends
as the ground on which they have built up their
testimony, inll which they say, in their Book of Minutes, "We believe that this testimony to the purity
and freedom of genuine Gospel ministry, strongly
evinces that the formation of our Society was not an
effort of human wisdom; neither is there anything
more calculated to sap our foundation, and render us
a degenerate church, than a departure from this principle"-the text, "Freely ye have received, freely
give." My vision is too opaque to discover the connection between "Freely give," and "This Meeting
declares it is its sense and judgment that no Friend
28
325 
CHANCERY SUITS.
in truth can pay tithes, it being inconsistent with our
Christian testimony."
To return to my own story. I had often heard
it said, that it was never worth any one's while to
appeal to the Society, for that even if the appeal was
successful, you would have to leave the sect sooner or
later. That you would be tormented into a voluntary
resignation. It was literally so with me. I still had
an unaccountable hankering after the silent Meeting,
an indestructible affection for very many of the
Friends, and an intense anxiety to be a true spiritual
worshipper of the Mighty God, who I knew was present everywhere that his Spirit was invoked. But I
was soon obliged to give up going to Meeting; cold
looks from some, chilly salutations from others, and
rude pushes from more, were unpleasant; and in
addition to this, the one solitary minister in the
Meeting, would not preach when I was present. I
did not therefore like, or think it right, to go where
I was evidently so unwelcome, and where my presence
presented an impediment to'"the immediate teaching
and influence of the Holy Spirit, whereby acceptable
worship is performed, and all true Gospel ministry
supplied." I therefore sent in my resignation, although
even wXhen doing so, I.held many of the Quaker doctrines, and would gladly have remained, had they allowed me quietly and unmolested, to live in peace
amongst them.  I felt very indignant at the injustice
done us: and in my letter of resignation, I recapitu
'026 
MUNIFICENT DONATIONS.
lated our wrongs, and openly and by name charged
our persecutors with dishonest, disreptuable, and unchristian conduct.  MIy letter was received most meekly; and I was told it wIas quite satisfactory.
Acting under advice, I then sent a concise statement
of the persecution which a few Friends, backed by
three Monthly Meetings, had so annoyed and injured
us by, to every single one of the leading Friends in
England and Ireland, and also to the Meeting for
Sufferings; and entreated them to restrain their members from entirely ruining us by the vexatious Chancery suit they had so long carried on, requesting them
to look into the characters of our persecutors, one at
least of whom, though of so very high standing in the
Society, was a notoriously disreputable and false man,
and offering to leave the decision of our cause to any
two Christian men, either in or out of the Society.
The answers we received were all intimating that the
punishment inflicted on us was not at all greater than
we deserved, and that our persecutors had the entire
sympathy of the Society in their treatment of us.
The plea of the suit is of course to recover money
claimed; whilst the real reason is, to punish us for
going to Church and for speaking slightingly of women's preaching. The plaintiffs are are all wealthy
Friends; the newspapers now and then record their
munificent donations to hospitals, infirmaries, &c. &c.,
sometimes amounting to a thousand pounds at a time.
Indeed these public donations have followed, like cause
and effect, after some peculiar injustice inflicted on us.
327 
~IINDICTIYE PUNISHMENTS.
No one could believe that for the sum of fourteen
pounds five shillings per annum, these benevolent individuals, whose liberality is so notorious, would institute a Chancery suit, especially where their claim was
never denied, although it might have been.
Friends often claim for themselves credit for being
free from the sin of persecution; and therefore it is
that I relate this, nmy experience, of their tender
mercy.
Sad stories have been told me of the misery and
destitution which Friends have unpityingly caused to
others who have offended them.
One young man, for "neglecting to bear his testimony against an hireling ministry, by suffering himself
to be joined in marriage by a priest," was deprived
of property amounting to fifteen thousand pounds.
Another, for the same unpardonable offence, died
for want of proper food and clothing, whilst his parents rolled to Meeting in their carriage.
I think it was O'Connell who said,'" that one fact
was worth a cart-load of arguments." I do not feel
at all competent to argue; but I can supply an abundant store more of facts, if those I have already
narrated are not considered sufficiently demonstrative
of my assertion, that Quakers, as a sect, are unrivalled
in their vindictive persecution of those, who once belonging to their body, have dared to separate, either
from conscience sake, or from any other motive.
328 
WNVHITE QUAKERS.
CHAPTER XVI.
White  Quakers-Favourite  Texts-Sidcot  School-Providential
Thunder Storm-Indifference to Sin —Youth's Meetings —Sunday
Schools-Baptism and the Lord's Supper —Conclusion.
HIAVIXG repeatedly had occasion to speak of the
"Jacob Rules," it is necessary to explain something
about the origin of thenm.  It was, I think, in the
years 1835 and 1836, that a Friend, named Joshua
Jacob, took a very prominent part in the Dublin
Monthly Meeting. Hlis wife also became particularly
efficient in the women's Meeting.   In some respects,
like the modern Puseyites, they were for reviving the
obsolete customs of the early Quakers. To adhere
strictly to the phraseology of George Fox, to imitate
his eccentricities-to throw back the innovations
which had crept in, and to revivify the Society in all
its original quaintness-appeared to be their object.
As George Fox had been "inspired by the shining of
the light within" to originate, and had been enabled,
in "best wisdom," to establish the Society, and, aided
by Robert Barclay, William Penn, and some others,
who were equally gifted, had published rules, and laws,
and by-laws; and as their teaching was principally
directed to exalt the work of the Holy Spirit in the
heart of man, in contra-distinction to the great error
28*
329
I 
WHITE QUAKERS.
of the day-an exaltation of the outward forms and
ceremonies of religious worship; so these Friends,
Jacob and a few others, claimed for themselves the
same "inspiration," and the same "best wisdom,"
with which now to dictate, and to govern.
The Dublin Friends were greatly pleased with what
they deemed and called a "New Light, which had
been vouchsafed to the Society, to preserve it from the
degeneracy whlich, for some previous years, had been
assimilating them to Christians of other Churches."
With deferential submission, they accepted "the leadings and guidings" of those "gifted individuals;" and
at their suggestion, the Yearly Meeting added to the
Book of Discipline several stringent rules, wvhich, according to the custom of Friends, being once inserted
there, must remain until the end.
The Jacobs, mistaking their imaginings for the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, and greatly puffed up in
their own estimation by the deference conceded to
them, yielded very naturally to that inherent desire
which man has to assume control over the intellect of
his fellow-man, and to bend another to his own opinion.
So much of their "best wisdom" having been thus
accepted by the Society at large, "fresh guidings"
were frequently volunteered, until at last commnon
sense revolted, and reason in some degree resumed
her sway.
Jacob had succeeded in convincing the Meeting, that
to go " to any place of comnimon worship," to " wear
mourning for a deceased relative or friend," to " allow
330 
WHITE QUAKERS.
a musical instrument inside the door," &e. &c., were
sins of such enormity, as required that the offender
should immediately be disowned.  He now wished to
go farther, and set an example for their imitation.
Blue had long been a forbidden colour for Friends
to wear. Jacob declared, that "the simplicity of godliness required that all men and women should array
themselves in white. With untanned shoes, unbleached
stockings, flannel-coloured knee-breeches, coat and
waist-coat, and a light drab broad-brimmed hat, he
appeared in the Meeting, accompanied by his wife,
who was clad from head to foot in coarse, unbleached
calico. Hie would not allow anything to be in his
house, except it were white. His walls were whitewashed, and his doors painted white. His wife united
heart and hand in his "guiding."   One morning she
collected every article of china and earthenware in
her house, on which was any colour, or even gilding.
She opened her hall-door, and on the door steps
smashed them all to pieces. Her husband applauded
her "noble deed" as he called it; delighted at such
praise from him, she continued the work of demolition; her looking-glasses were brought out next and
destroyed with a large stone which she picked up in
the street; for this he called her "a noble-ninded
woman."  His mahogany and rosewood furniture were
replaced with common white wood; and even the
patchwork quilt was banished from his white abode.
The majority of the Friends stoutly resisted these
"leadings and guidings." Ministers, elders, and over
831 
WHITE QUAKERS.
seers, had all united in his opinions, so long as they
personally were not subjected, or likely to be so, to any
restriction. They could never be tempted to go "to a
place of common worship" or "to put on mourning,"
&c., &c., therefore they fully united in his wishes to
shackle "the body." Not one iota would they yield
when it concerned their own dear selves.
A person not well versed in the mysteries of Quakerism, might imagine that there was quite as much
sense, and religion also, in obliging every one to dress
in white, as there is in forbidding any one to wear
black, but the leaders and heads of the Society discovered so very important a difference, that whilst
they rejected the one, they retained the other, and
keep it enrolled amongst those rules of which they say
-"May the evidence which it (the Book of Discipline) exhibits of the concern of the Society, from
time to time, to maintain the profession of the truth
in its primitive purity, and to observe the precepts
and practices taught and exemplified by the Lord
Jesus Christ and his Apostles, commend themselves to
the consciences and willing acceptance of all our
members."
Jacob and his disciples, who altogether numbered
more than one hundred, finding they were not allowed
to have the entire governing of the Society, separated from it, and incorporated themselves into a sect
called White Quakers. The original Friends, now
denominated Black Quakers, in contra-distinction,
332 
WHITE QUAKERS.
disowned the White Quakers, and they, in return,
disowned them.
Friends never engage in controversy, whether it is
that they consider their standing as a religious body
so very high as to be above the test of Scripture,
reason, and intellect; or whether an innate feeling
that their doctrines and peculiarities will not bear examination, prevents them, so it is. The White Quakers challenged them in vain. Month after month
they published a large tract, entitled " The truth as
it is in Jesus," and therein asserted, and attempted
to prove, that they, and they only, were the true followers of George Fox. The Friends took no notice
of the publication, and it soon dropped to the ground.
Following out their theory, that they were, or rather
that their leader was, "inspired," in all his vagaries,
they implicitly obeyed his " guidings." The White
Quakers had amongst them people of wealth, good
family, education as good as Friends generally have;
and it is impossible to believe that so large a number
could all have been mad, each performing the strangest
acts, and submitting to the most unheard of privations,
as Jacob directed them. Property was in common
amongst them, and Jacob was the cash-keeper. Many
thousand pounds passed into his hands in this way.
The widowed mother of some young children was one
of his followers, and she gave up not only her own
money, but also that to which her children were entitled on coming of age. The relatives of the children instituted an action against Jacob to oblige him
333 
WHITE QUAKERS.
to give up their property, but in vain; he suffered imprisonment for two or three years on account of it;
but gained his point in defiance of the law. I do not
know how it was managed, but he did not refund the
money, and he obtained his liberty.
One time he would command an elderly lady, who
had been all her life accustomed to the luxuries of
wealth, to go early of a cold winter's morning, in her
scanty white calico raiment, without shoes or stockings, carrying in her hand a wooden bowl full of coarse
stirabout, and eat it with an iron spoon, sitting on the
steps of the Bank of Ireland, "for a sign unto the
people." Another delicate young woman was ordered
to wash for the whole establishment; unused to such
hardship, she soon fell a victim to it, and died untended and uncomforted.
The White Quakers had Meeting-houses in several
different towns. The police were often called on to
restrain them. They went into the " steeple houses,"
as George Fox had done, to disturb the congregations,
and "to testify against men wearing white shirts,"
(surplices.)
They also went into Friends' Meeting to denounce
them.
Three White Friends, one man and two women,
walked up the aisle of the Meeting-house on the Sabbath morning, about half an hour after the assembly
had been seated in silence; they stood quiet for a
few minutes, and then exclaimed in very loud voices" Woe, woe, to this bloody house, and to this bloody
334 
FAVOURITE TEXTS.
people," and then quietly went away again. On other
occasions they tried to break up the Meetings; and
when Friends tried to turn them out, threw themselves
down on their backs, and kicked, and screamed, and
yelled, blaspheming and cursing in the most awfully
wicked and outrageous manner.
They professed to be religious people, and quoted
Scripture for every thing-with, of course, their own
interpretation attached to it.
One very favourite text was-" To the pure  all
things are pure." On the adaptation of this to themselves, whom they considered as "the pure," they
indulged in the most monstrous indelicacy and licentiousness. Half a dozen of them attempted to parade
the streets in Waterford, arm in arm, men and women without a vestige of clothing. The same text
was Jacob's warrant for changing his wives, whenever he inclined to honour any of his female followers with a temporary preference. And even now,
whilst I write, this scandalous sect exists, and continues to perpetrate enormities which are a,disgrace
to civilization.
When it was ascertained that morality was held in
light esteem amongst them, some of the Friends,
whose wives had adopted the White Quaker tenets,
became alarmed; and with the assistance, readily
granted, of the police, they stormed the abode of Jacob, and forcibly took each man his wife, away from
the den of iniquity.
The distress which this schism caused among the
335 
FAVOURITE TEXTS.
Friends, who are very much connected by intermarriages with one another, was very great. Some were
induced to look into the root from which such gross
error sprung; and finding that there was indeed the
germ of fanaticism in the doctrine of inspiration (as
held by the Society) apart from the authority of the
Holy Scriptures, have safely and happily enshrined
themselves in that comprehensive and most rational
Article of the Established Church-" Holy Scripture
containeth all things necessary to salvation; so that
whatever is not read therein, nor may be proved
thereby, is not to be required of any man that it
should be believed as an article of faith, or be thought
requisite or necessary to salvation."  Others, alas!
have been disgusted at the exhibition; and trusting
to their own common sense, natural good feeling, and
moral propriety, look on religion as only useful for
fools or knaves.
There is still very much of the leaven of the White
Quaker theory in the Society of Friends. There is
great need to watch its developments. It does assume
a more plausible form, but is constantly to be seen
peeping out. A religious system which is built upon
insulated texts of Scripture, is ever liable to lead its
votaries astray. Truth may even become error, when
separated from its attendant truth; and it appears to
me, that all sectarianism has sprung from this exaltation of one accepted truth over another, which being
less palatable, is placed in comparative abeyance at
first, and afterwards entirely banished, as inconveni
336 
SIDCOT SCHOOL.
ent and of less importance. Thus Friends approve of,
and often quote-" There is neither male nor female,
but ye are all one in the Lord;" whilst-" I suffer
not a woman to preach," is never heard amongst
them. Again: "Work out your own salvation with
fear and trembling," is an approved doctrine; whilst,
"Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt
be saved," is called a dangerous text, and so of many
other texts.
About four years ago, an English Friend waited on
me, to request me to enter my name as a subscriber
to an edition of the Bible, which a Committee of
Friends were intending to publish. The printed prospectus stated, that the work was designed to be one
suited for daily perusal in Friends' families; that
from it would be carefully excluded every passage
that was indelicate and unfit for reading aloud; and
also those portions which might be called dangerous,
which it was possible the unlearned and unstable
might wrest to their own destruction. Seven shillings and sixpence was to be the price of the book.
Whether or not it was completed I never heard, as I
declined subscribing, and entreated the messenger to
read the last chapter of Revelation, before he made
himself any further a party to so wicked a scheme.
One more episode in my own story brought my
connection with the Society of Friends to a termination. According to the rules, my children continue
to be members until they attain their majority. Some
kindly disposed Friends wished me to place one of
29
337 
PROVIDENTIAL THUNDER STORM.
our boys at the Friend's school at Sidcot. We had
heard much said in favour of that establishment, of
the kind care taken of the lads, who are all under
fourteen years of age, and of the excellent instruction
they received from masters aud tutors, who were selected for their piety, as well as for their ability and
superior education. The Committee of management
were Friends of the highest respectability and standing in the Society, whose wealth and influence combined to raise the school to perfection.  I felt very
unwilling indeed to intrust my darling boy to the care
of any "Friends;" but that was "prejudice."  I had
never heard one word derogatory of the system the
school was conducted on, and reluctantly consented
to let him go, satisfying myself with the hope, that if
any religious instruction was given to him, it would
be good so far as it went.
The preliminaries were all satisfactorily arranged,
and he sailed for Bristol accompanied by his father.
They travelled on, and arrived in safety at Sidcot
School, Somersetshire. They found the house and
grounds spacious, comfortable and commodious; just
as it had been described to us. When the time arrived for the father to leave, a violent thunder-storm
came on; he was politely invited to remain until the
following morn; and as the rain was tremendously
heavy he consented to do so. In the evening it cleared
up, and a Quaker lady who resided near, sent them
an invitation to go take tea with her. They went.
The kind Quaker lady, to whom we owe a debt of
338 
INDIFFERENCE TO SIN.
gratitude which can never be repaid, had a long and
private conference with the master of the school.
Nothing then transpired. They returned to the school,
and father and son were accommodated with an excellent bed. The parting was to be at ten o'clock,
to meet the train.  At breakfast the master looked
anxious and distressed; a note from the lady, at whose
house they had taken tea the evening before, was put
into his hands, and then he hastily, and as if overruled, requested a private interview with the father.
Hie then told what this good women had charged him
to communicatc-that the whole school was infected
with the most abominable sin-all were polluted.
Ten minutes sufficed to repack his trunks; and my
son was saved by the gracious interposition of Providence, from the contamination of such iniquity.
On returning to Bristol, and requesting the school
Committee there, to refund the money which had been
paid, of course the reason was given for taking the
child home again, and horror and indignation were
expressed at the crime, and the neglect which was
perilling the souls and bodies of so many poor children, who had been confidingly entrusted to their
care.
The " Friends" took it all very coolly. They were
very sorry indeed that the circumstance had been discovered; but they hoped, as our son was not remaining there, we "would see the propriety of not allowing it to transpire." One said, " It was not worth
talking about. HIe would send his own son there
339 
YOUTHIIS' MEETINGS.
without hesitation." And there it remains to the
present moment. Can it be, that Friends believe that
God will call every man to account for all his words,
and thoughts, and deeds, and continue to disregard
his laws, and to despise his instructions? HIonoured
and respected by the world-esteemed for their industry and benevolence-remarkable for their quiet
and peaceable lives, as much as for their peculiar garb
-the separation in which they live from their fellowcreatures, has enveloped the Society in a mantle of
obscurity; and, by lulling them to rest so satisfied
with themselves, and with the fame they have acquired, has conduced to their present degeneracy.  Like
the Laodiceans, they are "rich and increased with
goods, and have need of nothing;" and they know
not that they "are wretched, and miserable, and poor,
and blind, and naked;" or, in the words of our
blessed Saviour, "Ye also outwardly appear righteous
unto men, but within ye are full of hypocrisy and
iniquity."
The current of man's disposition naturally tends
towards evil. If a garden be not dug and planted,
the weeds will spring up; and the richer and better
the soil, the more abundant will be the crop of them.
So with the heart of a child-the evil is natural, the
good must be planted. Three times every year, and
three times only, Friends hold what they call Youths'
Meetings, from ten till about half-past eleven generally on a third-day morning. About half that time
is spent in silence; the remainder is occupied in read
340 
SUNDAY SCHOOLS.
ing some portion of the Book of Discipline, or the
death-bed scene of some unnaturally perfect youth, or
advices on the peculiarities of the Society.   That is
the only religious instruction the Friends give to their
youth; the parents may or may not give further.
Sunday Schools are not approved of; and if a mother,
feeling her own incapacity to impart sound scriptural
education, and aware of the need of it for the souls of
her children, dares to send them to the Church School,
she is sure to be visited by the overseers, and obliged
either to give up her connection with the Friends, or
to withdraw her children from the Scriptural School.
I have known repeated instances of this, and have admired and availed myself of the kind condescension
of more than one clergyman, who held his school on
the week-day, affording the Quaker mother an opportunity of entrusting her darlings to his teaching,
unknown to the overseers.
The indifference with which the Friends regarded
the scandalous state of Sidcot School, severed the last
link of the chain which the remembrance of Quakerism, as I had seen it in my father's life, had bound
me in.
Nobody, unless they have passed through.the ordeal,
can conceive how very painful it is to feel one's-self
cast off from all earthly communion with the Church
-branded as unfit to worship God in the society of
those who were one's fellows,-disowned by them, as
one guilty of crime which mnortals might not forgive
-slighted in public, and repulsed in private-baln       29*
341 
342      BAPTISM AND THE LOPD'S SUPPER.
ished from their company on earth, and clearly given
to understand, that into that heaven which is prepared
for Friends, I had no chance of being received. I
sought for admission into the Church of England and
Ireland; and there, with all my family about me,
found a ready entrance. Six children, husband and
wife, were all baptized together-eight persons. We
entered "into the ark of Christ's Church, in faith and
hope, there to pass through the waves of this troublesome world, that finally we may come to the land of
everlasting life."
I had my Quaker doubts of the necessity of water
Baptism to the very hour in which I submitted to it.
But although it might be non-essential to salvation, I
could not see that there was any thing wrong in the
act itself, even Friends' writings do not condemn it
as sinful; only as a substitute for the baptism of the
Holy Ghost, they reject it; consequently, I felt quite
willing to submit my own judgment in a non-essential
matter, to the superior wisdom of the enlightened
Church Divines. On the doctrines of Baptism, as
well as on that of the Lord's supper, I have personally
experienced the truthfulness of that gracious promise,
-" If any man will do his will, he shall know of the
doctrine whether it be of God."  It seemed to me an
ungracious thing to refuse to do anything, which by
any possibility might be considered as well pleasing
to the Almighty, becauee the omission of it would
not deprive me altogether of His salvation.  I there 
FUTURE PUXISHMENT.
fore resolved to do it as his will, and I now know assuredly that those doctrines are from God.
As I conceive it is utterly impossible that Quakerism can survive this generation-that the enlightened
intellect of the young people, will submit to the dictation of "blind leaders" much longer-and that common sense will continue to yield to the puerilities
which have supplanted the restraints imposed upon us
by the Law of the Lord; so I would hope that the inestimable value of the soul, and the awful certainty,
that when this short period of probation is over and
gone, we must enter either the realms of everlasting
glory, or the gloomy dungeons of misery and despair,
may induce the great and intelligent mass of the Society to reject the fanaticism which has already perilled their souls; and to fly for safety from the wrath
to come, to where alone it is to be found, "in the
blood of the Lord Jesus Christ, which cleanseth us
from all sin."
It is now-a-days considered a very improper thing
to speak of hell; and a most uncharitable nan is he
deemed, who ventures to intimate that any body is in
danger of being committed to its burning chambers.
God who is all love, had told us there is a hell reserved for the ungodly, as surely as there is a heaven
prepared for the righteous.  "The devil rejoices when
Christians are silent about hell." The Society of
Friends have fallen into that snare; and from ceasing
to speak of it, have alas! ceased to fear it.
"Do you believe the Bible? Then depend upon it,
343 
FUTURIE PUNISHMENT.
hell will be intense and unutterable woe. It is vain to
talk of all the expressions about it being only figures
of speech.  The pit, the prison, the worm, the fire, the
thirst, the blackness, the darkness, the weeping, the
gnashing of teeth, the second death-all these may be
figures of speech, if you please. But Bible figures
mean something beyond all question; and here they
mean something which man's mind can never fully
conceive.  Oh! reader, the miseries of mind and conscience are far worse than those of the body. The
whole extent of hell, the present suffering, the bitter
recollection of the past, the hopeless prospect of the
future, will never be thoroughly known, except by
those who go there."
The ministers of the Society of Friends never speak
of these things-they are to them as though they were
not; but the great fact remains true as the Scriptures which reveal it to us, and awful as it is true.
There are imperfections and infirmities of some kind
in every communion on earth. "Infallibility is not for
this dispensation; for if the preaching of Christ which
was indeed infallible, did not bow the hearts of all his
hearers-if the eloquence and inspiration of Saint Paul
failed to subdue his auditors-if the Holy Scriptures,
the infallible word of the living God, has not been able
to banish error from men's minds, how shall the potsherds of the earth presume to teach of their puny
wisdom as infallible?" But the Bible is an unerring
guide to salvation, and the "wayfaring men, though
fools, shall not err therein."  If any man is willing to
344 
CONCLUSION.
be saved, the Lord is willing to save him.  A  light
streaming from the pearl gates of heaven, illumines
the straight and narrow way which leads to the mansions of rest, and Jesus, the Angel of the Covenant,
stands with outstretched hand, to welcome the weary
pilgrim home, with the gracious words, "Come unto
me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will
give you rest."
In narrating my experience of what Quakerism is,
I have encleavoured to draw a distinct line between
the body of the sect, and the officers who, in the name
of the body, carry on its operations.
Many things are done in the name of the Society,
which the individuals who compose the Society would
shrink from participating in, were they aware of what
is done ostensibly in their behalf. Whilst the present
practice continues, the overseers of each Meetingperhaps four or six individuals-do just what they
like, and are irresponsible; whilst the odium of their
bigotry and injustice falls on the whole Society. I
would therefore in parting from my kind Quaker readers, suggest the propriety of requiring all letters addressed to the Monthly Meetings, to be read aloud in
them, instead of, as now, allowing two people-who
perhaps have interest in keeping the communication
secret-to take letters out of the Meeting-room-readcl
them by themselves, and then dispose of them, either
by a select Committee, or by handing them over to
the overseers. I wrote to the Monthly Meeting three
times; and am fully persuaded, that had my letters
345 
CONCLUSION.
been read aloud there, the injustice done to me would
not have been sanctioned. I complained of the falsity
of the overseers, and the overseers themselves were
appointed to do me justice.  Whilst letters are thus
suppressed, this state of things will most naturally
continue. Ministers, elders, and overseers, are subject
to like passions and feelings with other men and women, and are quite as little likely to expose their own
order to censure.
Is it not as unmanly as it is unreasonable, blindly
to allow some half-dozen individuals to decide, in the
name of the whole Meeting, on any point, without
allowing the assembly to hear and judge for themselves? When it is resolved to disown any member,
would it not be fair and just to allow the accused to
appear before the Meeting, and either to speak or to
write in his own defence? The vilest criminal is allowed, in courts of law, to say what he can, openly
and publicly, for himself; and shall the Society of
Friends, in the nineteenth century, continue to award
their verdict at the instigation of some half-dozen, or
more, individuals, without allowing the accused to be
heard, and without the Meeting itself being even
made aware of any of the circumstances of the case,
but such as these half-dozen individuals think fit to
bring before them?
I am persuaded that all the evils which now abound
in the Society have arisen from the neglect of the
Holy Scriptures.
In banishing his Word from the public assemblies,
346 
CONCLUSION.
God was dishonoured and despised; and he has said,
"Them that honour me I will honour, and they that
despise me shall be lightly esteemed." Banished
from public worship, the Bible has been neglected in
private. The casual reading of a chapter, or a psalm,
perhaps once a day, is a mere form, and leaves the
mind untaught in the Word of God, and, consequently, exposed and without defence, to the attacks of our
great arch-enemy, who is ever watching to seize on
every undefended avenue to man's heart. St. Peter,
in his catalogue of those eight Christian virtues which
are required to make " our calling and election sure,"
places'" knowledge" the third highest on the list; and
it is because the ministers, elders, and overseers have
not that "knowledge,"  and because they despise
"knowledge," that they speak and act as they now
do. Therefore, my good reader, if you are a Quaker,
insist, I pray you, on your preachers especially, being
well versed in the Bible; and be assured, if they have
it in their heads and in their hearts, they will not object to have it in their hands also, but, on the contrary, they will never dare to stand up in your galleries without holding it up as their warrant for addressing you.
And, my good reader, if you are a member of the
Established Church of England and Ireland, and feel
pity for the ignorance which has led to the results I
have described, remember, I pray you, that whilst
Satan has lulled so many into a fatal disregard of the
knowledge of God's laws, you have had the Holy
347
I
0 
CONCLUSION.
Scriptures openly taught in your Churches, and have
basked in the beams of the Sun of Righteousness.
The Quaker has a soul to be saved as well as another man, and the clergyman who has Quakers in his
parish, will, I hope, when he knows how ignorant they
are of the true Christian faith, include them in his
labours of love.
And, oh! may the Lord Jesus Christ, whose aid I
have invoked in writing every page of this volume,
condescend to bless it, and make it instrumental in
his cause. When a garden is overgrown with weeds,
even a feeble old woman is sometimes usefully employed in plucking them up; so my desire has been
to pluck up those weeds which I saw overruning the
good ground in this corner of the garden of the Lord;
and thus help-all roughly though it be-to prepare
it for the reception of that good seed of the kingdom,
which the well-skilled husbandman may plant, and
which, watered with the dew of heaven, may yet
bring forth fruit to the honour and glory of God.
THE END.
348 
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