Columbia ^HnitJtr^ttp 
 
 itttljeCttpfjflfmgork 
 
 THE LIBRARIES 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES 
 
 MEMBERS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 ^Otitis of ffvitnh$y 
 
 WHO ^yERE 
 
 RESIDENT IN IRELAND. 
 
 BY MARY LEADBEATER. 
 
 PRINTED r-Y I:ARX*I Y Mit> DAIITON, 
 GRACECHURCH-STREET. 
 
 1823. ." 
 

PREFACE. 
 
 The design of the following collection, is to 
 preserve a memorial of members of the so- 
 ; ciety of Friends in this land, whose lives 
 were worthy to serve for example and en- 
 couragement to their successors in profession. 
 These memoirs have been collected from 
 various authorities: some are abridged from 
 the journals of the Friends themselves; and 
 it is hoped that they may tend to induce a 
 perusal of the originals, in which much will 
 be found, not inserted here, that is interest- 
 ing and instructive. 
 
 The reader may be disappointed at not 
 meeting, in this collection, the names of some 
 whose memories will long be cherished with 
 respect and love, concerning whom the 
 necessary documents were not obtained. 
 
 Mary Leadbeateh. 
 
 Ballitore, 4th month, 1822. 
 
 7.1 
 
 164297 
 
33(ograp1&ttaI 0oUtt0. 
 
 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 William Edmundson was born at Little Miis- 
 grove, in Westmorland, in the year 1627. He 
 became an orphan at seven years old, was ex- 
 posed to much hardship of body, and endured 
 great inward conflicts in his youth. Entering 
 into the Parliament army, he served under Crom- 
 well, and fought at the battle of Worcester. In 
 this army were many who made high profession 
 of religion; but he met with none who could 
 sympathize with the state of his mind, often 
 bowed under the judgments, and melted under a 
 sense of the mercies, of his Almighty Preserver. 
 In the year 1652 he married; and the next year, 
 having quitted the mihtary profession, came to 
 settle in Ireland. It was proposed to him to enter 
 into trade in Dublin, and the prospect of gain 
 thereby was favourable; but, says he, "I was 
 prevented by a secret hand, that I did not then 
 know, which preserved me from the deceitfulness 
 of riches, with which, in all probability, I had 
 
 B 
 
2 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 been laden, as with thick clay, and thereby been 
 hindered from the Lord's service, as some others 
 are." His brother, a soldier in Cromwell's ser- 
 vice, being quartered at Antrim, William Ed- 
 mundson took a house there, and commenced 
 business. He went to England to replenish his 
 stock of goods, and, whilst there, was at a meeting 
 of the people called Quakers; a people of whom 
 he had formed a good opinion, from the first time 
 he heard of them. His elder brother and a rela- 
 tion were with him; and the public ministry of 
 James Naylor meeting the witness in their hearts* 
 they all three joined that people, then so reviled 
 and despised. 
 
 While Wilham was on sea, returning to Ireland, 
 he was tempted to avail himself of an opportunity 
 of landing his goods without paying duty. He 
 was tempted, but, attending to the principle of 
 truth in his own mind, he did not yield to the 
 temptation. Yet he says, " There was a great 
 contest betwixt conscience and self, and in this 
 conflict many scriptures were opened to my under- 
 standing, that duties and customs ought to be 
 paid ; and though self struggled hard for mastery, 
 yet it was at last overthrown, and the judgment 
 of truth prevailed." When he arrived at his own 
 house, his wife and brother were much surprised 
 at the change they beheld in him; but were soon 
 influenced by the same feelings, and joined in the 
 same religious sentiments. Those three met toge- 
 ther twice a week, in WilUam Edmundson's house ; 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 3 
 
 and " in a while," to use his own words, " four 
 more were convinced, and then we were seven 
 that met together to wait upon God, and to wor- 
 ship him in spirit and in truth." This was the 
 first settled meeting of Friends in Ireland, and 
 was in the year 1654, in the town of Lurgan; to 
 which place William had removed, and where he 
 kept a shop. Here he was looked upon with en- 
 •quiring eyes; but those who watched him nar- 
 rowly, could find nothing against himself or his 
 principles, in his conductor conversation; for he 
 was enabled to keep a guard over his own words 
 and deeds, and to walk in the simple integrity of 
 unfeigned piety. 
 
 In 1655, apprehending it to be required of him, 
 though under a sense of his own weakness and 
 insufficiency, he began to speak in the public 
 assemblies of his friends; and being qualified for 
 ministering to the states of others, became an emi- 
 nent instrument to turn many to righteousness. 
 Feeling desirous of visiting George Fox, whom he 
 had never seen, he went to England, and met him 
 at Badgely in Leicestershire, where many Friends 
 were assembled; and thus he describes the inter- 
 view: " When the meeting ended, I went to 
 George Fox, and he took notice of me : we went 
 into the orchard, and, kneeling down, he prayed. 
 The Lord's heavenly power and presence were 
 there. He was tender over me. I told him 
 where I lived — of several being convinced in Ire- 
 B 2 
 
4 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 land — of the openness amongst people in the 
 north of that nation, to hear the truth declared, 
 and of the want of ministering friends in the Gos- 
 pel there. He wrote the following epistle to 
 Friends, which he sent with me. 
 
 " Friends, 
 
 " In that which convinced you, wait, 
 that you may have that removed you are con- 
 vinced of; and all my dear friends, dwell in the 
 life, and love, and power, and wisdom of God, in 
 unity one with another, and with God; and the 
 peace and wisdom of God fill all your hearts, that 
 nothing may rule in you but the life which stands 
 in the Lord God. 
 
 " G. F." 
 
 This epistle, dictated by love, was in the same 
 love received, and sensibly impressed the hearts of 
 Friends in this nation. Several engaged in the 
 ministry in England, came to pay rehgious visits 
 to their brethren here. Of these, were two wo- 
 men, concerning whom William Edmundson un- 
 derwent a trial of his faith, and gave a proof of 
 his sympathy with them, which he thus relates: 
 *' About this time (1655) two women friends from 
 London, Anne Gould and Julian Wastwood, came 
 to Dubhn, and travelled to Londonderry, having 
 some drawings to that place. After some service 
 for the Lord there, they travelled to Colerain, so 
 through the Scotch country, to a place called 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 5 
 
 Clough, all on foot, in winter-time, wading rivers, 
 and in dirty, miry ways; so that Anne Gould, 
 being a tender Avoman, was much spent, and staid 
 at Clough : the enemy persuading her that God 
 had forsaken her, and that she was brought there 
 to be destroyed, so that she fell into despair ; but 
 I knew nothing of them. 
 
 " At this time my brother and I were at a fair 
 at Antrim : being late there, we proposed to lodge 
 that night at Glenavy, six miles on our way home- 
 ward. Before we got to Glenavy, I was under a 
 great exercise of spirit ; and the word of the Lord 
 came unto me, that my shop was in danger to be 
 robbed that night. I told my brother of it; so 
 we concluded to travel home, and went about a 
 mile beyond Glenavy. But my spirit was still 
 under a great exercise, the word of the Lord 
 moving me to turn back towards Clough ; where- 
 upon I was brought under a great exercise, be- 
 tween these two notions ; to travel back, and the 
 service unknown, and my shop, on the other 
 hand, in danger to be robbed, which brought me 
 into a great straight, for fear of a wrong spirit. 
 I cried unto the Lord in much tenderness of heart 
 and spirit, and his word answered. That which 
 drew me back should preserve my shop; so v/e 
 went back to Glenavy, and lodged there. That 
 night I slept but little, because of many doubts 
 about the concern: on the other hand, I durst 
 not disobey, for I knew the terrors of God for 
 disobedience. 
 
6 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 " The next morning my brother went home; 
 but I rode back, and towards evening came to 
 Clough, and took up my lodging at an inn. When 
 I came into the house, I found Anne Gould in 
 despair, and Julian Wastwood with her; but when 
 they knew who I was, and heard my name, the 
 poor, disconsolate woman revived for joy and glad- 
 ness, and got up; for she was in bed, overwhelm- 
 ed under trouble of mind. I saw then my service 
 of coming there was for her sake; and I told them 
 how I was brought there by the hand of God, 
 led as a horse by the bridle, to the place where 
 they were. They therefore greatly rejoiced and 
 praised God ; the tender woman was helped over 
 lier trouble, and she saw it was a trial of great 
 temptations she had lain under. They had a 
 mind to go to Carrickfergus, to my house, and to 
 Dublin, to take shipping for England; and ac- 
 cordingly, in two days, I got them to my house. 
 AVhen I came home I enquired about my shop, 
 whether it had been in danger of being robbed. 
 They told me, the night I was under that exer- 
 cise about it, the shop-window was broken down, 
 and fell with such violence on the counter, that it 
 awakened our people, and the thieves were af- 
 frighted and ran away. So I was confirmed that 
 it was the word of the Lord that said. That which 
 drew me back should preserve my shop; and I 
 was greatly strengthened in the word of life, to 
 obey the Lord in what he required of me ; for I 
 was much afraid, lest, at any time, my understand- 
 
WILWAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 ^ 
 
 ing should be betrayed by a wrong spirit; not 
 fearing the loss of goods, nor sufferings for truth, 
 its testimony being more to me than all other 
 things. When these two women had staid some 
 time at my house, and visited Friends, my brother 
 accompanied them to Dublin, from whence they 
 sailed for England." 
 
 In his journeys on a religious account, though 
 William Edmundson met with severe treatment, 
 yet many, convinced of the truths preached by 
 him, joined themselves to the society of Friends, 
 and meetings were established in several places. 
 He was committed to Armagh jail, and also suf- 
 fered from sickness in that situation. Here he 
 says, " Though I was weak and contemptible in 
 my own eyes, yet the Lord was with me; his 
 pov/er and dread were my strength and refuge." 
 While sick and a prisoner, he had to support an 
 argument with several who were skilful in dispu- 
 tation, and who expected to be victorious over 
 him. " I was," says he, " greatly afraid of my 
 own weakness, for truth's sake ; therefore I pray- 
 ed to the Lord in secret, for His aid, and He 
 was pleased to fill me with his spirit, being mouth 
 and wisdom to me; so that the Lord's power and 
 the testimony of his blessed truth was over them.''' 
 Afterwards, being brought before the court, 
 where one of his opponents was chairman, this 
 person renewed the dispute about religion. Wil- 
 liam was unwilling to enter into further contro- 
 versy, but, being urged to it, prevailed so much, 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 that his antagonist became angry, and threatened 
 him with his magisterial authority, which another 
 justice, who was present, told him was not fair: 
 "For," said he, "if you will dispute of religion, 
 you must come on equal terms, and lay aside your 
 authority of a justice, and give liberty to be op- 
 posed, as well as oppose." Then he commended 
 what the prisoner had said, which gave gene- 
 ral satisfaction: those who committed him were 
 ashamed of the action, and he regained his 
 liberty. 
 
 The testimony which Friends bore against 
 tithes, not being then fully understood or sup- 
 ported in Ireland, this devoted man was impressed 
 with a sense of duty to hold forth an example in 
 this respect. Therefore he applied for a farm, 
 to a person who had expressed a desire to have 
 Friends settle on his lands, in the county of 
 Cavan; yet, though he had thus expressed him- 
 self, William and his brother found it difficult to 
 conclude a bargain with him. The termination 
 of this affair will be best told by himself. " After 
 a while, the Lord's power filled my heart : then 
 
 1 was moved in the word of life, to tell him I 
 would take his land, let him take what he would 
 for it, and make his own terms, at which he was 
 amazed ; so, pausing a little, desired half an hour 
 to consider. He walked into his orchard, and in 
 a little time returned to us, and closed a bargain 
 with us for the land, on such easy rent and terms 
 as we could not have brought him to by argu- 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. i» 
 
 nients; whereupon several families of Friends came 
 with us, and settled on his land. We kept a meeting 
 for the worship of God twice in the week, in whicli 
 our hearts were tender before the Lord, and in 
 his love near and dear one to another. Now 
 truth was much spread, and meetings settled in 
 several places; many being convinced and brought 
 to the knowledge of God, were added to Friends ; 
 but sufferings increased, for not paying tithes, 
 priests' maintenance, and towards repairing their 
 worsliip-liouses, ; for not observing their holy- 
 days, (so called,) and such like: they fleeced us 
 in taking our goods, and imprisoned some of us. 
 
 " In those days, the vrorld and the things of it 
 were not near our hearts; but the love of God, 
 his truth and testimony, lived in our hearts. We 
 were glad of one another's company, though some- 
 times our outward fare was very mean, and our 
 lodoinsc on straw. We did not mind hioh thincs, 
 but were glad of one another's v/elfare in the 
 Lord, and his love dwelt in us."' 
 
 Li the course of William Edmundson's services, 
 in visiting Friends and establishing meetings, he 
 met with insults and abuse; and at Belturbet, 
 after passing a night in a cold prison, in the ex- 
 tremity of winter, with several Friends, men and 
 women, he was put into the stocks, in the market- 
 place, his com^panions being liberated. Here he 
 had opportunity of preaching the gospel to an 
 attentive audience. Robert Wardell, a boy, re- 
 B ^ 
 
10 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 monstrating strongly and severely with the provost 
 of the town, against this act of violence, was 
 placed in the stocks beside him; but, on his 
 father threatening the provost, the youth was 
 released, joined the society of Friends, and in 
 some time became an able miniriter amongst them. 
 The people were much dissatisfied with the pro- 
 vost, who thereupon sent his ofiicer to set Wil- 
 liam at hberty: the stocks were opened, and he 
 was desired to take out his leg, and go his way. 
 This he refused to do, desiring that the provost 
 should himself take him out; having made him a 
 public spectacle, as one who had been guilty of 
 some gross offence, though he had not been con- 
 victed of any breach of the law. The provost came, 
 opened the stocks, and desired WilHam to take 
 out his leg; but he continued to refuse, alleging 
 the public insult offered to him, and insisting, that 
 he who had placed him in this ignominious con- 
 finement, should release him from it, which he 
 complied with. Cromwell, who bore the title of 
 Protector, had published a declaration, that sucli 
 should be protected in their religion as owned 
 God the Creator of all things, Christ Jesus the 
 Saviour of man, and the Scriptures. Therefore 
 the governor of the garrison, the officers, and 
 principal inhabitants of the town, with many 
 others, assembled in the court-house, to examine 
 whether the people called Quakers were under 
 this protection. William Edmundson was called, 
 and his answers to their enquiries caused them 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNBSON. 11 
 
 to give judgment in favour of this people. Then, 
 raising his voice, he desired them to bear witness 
 to the illegal treatment he had received, by im- 
 prisonment and public exposure in the stocks, for 
 which the lav/ provided reparation; and several 
 of the chief inhabitants offered to be evidence, if 
 the law was urged against the provost. The gover- 
 nor, coming from his seat, took William by the 
 hand, expressing his concern, and the provost 
 betrayed much alarm. However, he had not to 
 do with one who sought revenge for injuries, 
 though the undaunted man even reproved the 
 governor for his inattention to these unjust pro- 
 ceedings ; for thus he says, " My spirit was borne 
 up in the power of the Lord, as upon the wings 
 of an eagle, that day." 
 
 After this, he was imprisoned fourteen weeks 
 in Cavan jail, amongst felons; suffering from the 
 stench of accumulated filth, and other annoy- 
 ances, to such a degree, as to draw tears from 
 many of those who came to speak to him at the 
 prison-grate, and could not endure the offensive 
 effluvia. The compassion which his situation ex- 
 cited, was manifested even by one of the justices 
 who had committed him, who confessed his sor- 
 row for having joined in such an arrest, and was 
 desirous to mitigate the effec'^s of it. When the 
 blameless prisoner was brought into court, the 
 judge demanded to know who, and what he was. 
 To which he answered, with an audible voice, 
 " I am a prisoner, and have been a close prisoner 
 
12 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 fourteen weeks, for my religion and faith towards 
 God; and I want justice, and to be tried by the 
 law now established, for I know no law that I 
 have broken ; and I am one who has ventured 
 my life to establish the government, as it now 
 stands, and own the government and the laws." 
 The judge was disturbed at this, and remanded 
 him to prison, but not to the dungeon; and a 
 favourable impression being made on the minds of 
 those present, Wilham Edmundson was dis- 
 charged the next day, without a trial. While he 
 lay in this bondage, he heard of the unguarded 
 conduct of James Naylor, that admirable instru- 
 ment, whose ministry had so much affected him. 
 This plunged his mind into distress and dismay, 
 far beyond what his own bodily afflictions had 
 been able to do; and he said in his heart, " How 
 shall I stand through so many temptations and 
 trials, which attend me daily, since such an one 
 as he is fallen under temptations?" Yet the 
 the consideration, " Truth is truth, though all 
 men forsake it," comforted and strengthened him 
 under this trouble. 
 
 William Edmundson and his friends, being dis- 
 appointed by iheir landlord, in the county of 
 Cavan, who refused to fulfil the agreements to 
 which he had consented, removed to the province 
 of Leinster, most of wlioin settled about Mount- 
 melllck, in the Queen's County. William, esta- 
 blishing himself at Rosenallis, and meetings 
 for worship being held there, Friends from Eng- 
 land paid rehgious visits to their brethren in 
 
WILI.IAM EDMUNDSON. 13 
 
 this nation ; and William Edmundson often left his 
 home, to encourage, strengthen, and support those 
 whose various trials claimed his sympathy, and 
 also on account of more public service. Being 
 thus engaged at Londonderry, on a market-day, 
 when stage-players and rope-dancers were amus- 
 ing the populace, his awful warning to repent, and 
 the tenour of his doctrines making a serious impres- 
 sion, and drawing the attention of those present 
 from the public exhibition, enraged the actors; 
 and they prevailed upon the mayor to send Wil- 
 liam Edmundson to prison, though persons of 
 sobriety were indignant at this severity towards 
 a pious man, and the indulgence granted to the 
 promoters of vanity. Many flocked around the 
 prison-window, while he continued his exhortation, 
 till he was chained by the leg, to a distant part of 
 the jail, where condemned felons used to be fas- 
 tened. Here he sate in sweet calmmess of mind, 
 while one of the rope-dancer i fell, and received a 
 serious injury. In a few days he recovered his 
 liberty, and resumed his rehgious labours ; being 
 deeply concerned on account of the society to 
 which he belonged, v/hich had considerably in- 
 creased by this time, and good order v;as wanting 
 to restrain those whose words and actions were 
 not consistent with the simplicity and self-denial 
 which they professed ; and being considered as of 
 the people called Quakers, gave occasion to their 
 adversaries to reproach them, and thereby caused 
 serious enquirers to doubt the rectitude and sin- 
 
i4 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 cerity of this society. This was a "grief of 
 heart" to Willianij who could only, by his example 
 and his advice, oppose the growing evil. 
 
 On the accession of Charles the Second, in 
 1660, there was a great ferment in public affairs ; 
 an insurrection being made by those who were 
 called Fifth-monarchy-men. They pretended to 
 believe that the time was come for the reign of 
 Jesus Christ upon earth, which should form a 
 fifth monarchy, and which it was their duty to 
 support, even by force of arms. Though the 
 people called Quakers were known to testify 
 against war, and though they were submissive to 
 the government, yet the offence of these rioters 
 was made a pretext for harassing them; and on 
 this account, WiUiam, with many others, was con- 
 fined in Maryborough jail; but being supported 
 in their spirits, above the cruelty of their perse- 
 cutors, they held their meetings, and were com- 
 forted together, in the consciousness of their inno- 
 cence. When the clamour had a little subsided, 
 William made application to the government for 
 their liberation; and having obtained leave from 
 the sheriff, for twenty days' absence, he went to 
 Dublin, and petitioned the lords justices, who were 
 then the Earls of Orrery and Mountrath, with Sir 
 Maurice Eustace, chancellor; and although they 
 were much engaged with other business, yet the 
 order for setting Friends at liberty throughout 
 the nation, was granted by them ; several copies of 
 which were signed by the said lords justices, and 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 15 
 
 sent to the sheriffs of the several counties where 
 such were detained prisoners. Notwithstanding 
 which, the sheriff at Maryborough resisted the 
 order, detaining those who were imprisoned 
 there, for their fees; and thus William Edmund- 
 son found them, when he returned from an ex- 
 amination made by him, throughout the nation, 
 how the order had been obeyed. But at the 
 Quarter Sessions, then sitting, the justices com- 
 passionated the case of the oppressed people, 
 represented to them by William Edmundson, and 
 granted him a certificate, explaining the cause of 
 their detention; with which he went to Dublin, 
 where he found John Burnyeat and Robert Lodge 
 in confinement, got their release from the mayor, 
 and proceeded to the Earl of Mountrath's lodg- 
 ings. This nobleman was pleased with this intrepid 
 intercessor for liberty, on his first application; and 
 on further knowledge of him, became more fa- 
 vourable to him ; retaining a personal regard for 
 him till his death; and his son continuing this 
 friendship, showed kindness to Friends. William 
 Edmundson did not find it difficult to obtain the 
 discharge of the prisoners for whom he pleaded; 
 and, as he brought with him a full and positive 
 order to set them at liberty immediately, without 
 paying fees, the sheriff was obliged to obey it, 
 venting his rage in abusive language. 
 
 Imprisonment on account of tithes became 
 very general ; and William Edmundson appealed 
 to government, against the cruelty of the clergy- 
 
16 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 man belonging to Mountmellick, who endeavoured 
 to prevent millers from grinding the corn of those 
 who, for conscience sake, could not pay him his 
 demands, or to deal, or even to hold converse 
 with them; watching those who disobeyed his 
 order, and summoning them to the bishop's 
 court. He went further, desiring his parishioners 
 to shun Quakers as they would the plague ; telling 
 them that they need not pay their debts to 
 them, and would be protected by the law, if they 
 knocked them on the head. This had a contrary 
 effect from what he intended, (exciting compas- 
 sion and love towards those who were thus per- 
 secuted,) and estranged the regard of the people 
 from the persecutor; and many of them signed 
 the account of those proceedings, which William 
 Edmundsoon drew up, took to Dublin, and laid 
 before the government; who resented this con- 
 duct, and ordered the clergyman and his appari- 
 tor to come before the council, where they were 
 sharply reproved, and were threatened by the 
 primate with punishment, which, at William's re- 
 quest, was not inflicted on them. The primate, 
 who was also chancellor at that time, desired he 
 should be informed if they did not desist, and he 
 would make them examples to the nation. The 
 contrast of the cruelty exercised against William 
 Edniundson and his friends, with their forgive- 
 ness, made a favourable impression on the minds 
 of those in authority; yet was evil returned for 
 good. This covetous priest, incensed at the ex- 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 17 
 
 posure of his conduct, plundered William Ed- 
 mundson's house, and deprived others of his 
 friends of property, on pretence of church dues, 
 so called; and having a commission of the 
 peace, would have sent William Edmund son to 
 prison, had not the Earl of Mountrath superseded 
 his warrant, and granted him his liberty till the 
 assizes. When the assizes came, as the innocent 
 sufferer passed into court, the pitying people called 
 to him, "The Lord bless you, William; the Lord 
 help you, WiUiam." His opponents had drawn 
 up two indictments against him, and when they 
 came into court, four lawyers, not only without 
 fees, but without his knowledge of their intention, 
 successively pleaded his cause. The Earl of 
 Mountrath also protected him. The indictments 
 were quashed, the persecutor hissed, the judge 
 displeased with him, and his defeat gave general 
 satisfaction. Yet the persecuting spirit of this 
 man again arose, and he invaded the property of 
 his neighbours, under the same pretence as be- 
 fore. Again William Edmundson went to Dub- 
 lin, and again petitioned the lord-lieutenant and 
 council. He was admitted into the council-cham- 
 ber, accompanied by one of his friends, to state 
 their grievances. And thus he relates the circum- 
 stance: '* We had a very fair hearing, that judge 
 being present who gave judgment in favour of us 
 at the assizes. The council gave their judgment 
 that their proceedings were illegal ; and the lord- 
 lieutenant would know why we did not pay tithes 
 
18 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 to the ministers. So I showed him, out of th6 
 Scriptures, the law was ended that gave tithes, 
 and the priesthood changed that received them, 
 by the coming and suffering of Christ, who had 
 settled a ministry on better terms, and ordered 
 them a maintenance. He would know what main- 
 tenance the ministers must have. I told him 
 Christ's allowance; and I showed him, from the 
 Scriptures, what it was, as the Lord opened them 
 to me by his spirit and power that was with me, 
 which gave me wist^om and utterance, and sent 
 home what I said to their understandings. There 
 were three bishops present, and not one of them 
 replied to all this discourse, though so nearly con- 
 cerned in it. The lord-lieutenant bid God bless 
 us ; adding, we should not suffer for not going to 
 their public worship, neither for going to our 
 meetings." After this, their persecutor ceased to 
 harass those who were now reported to have 
 Hberty of conscience. But in the county of Ar- 
 magh many were imprisoned on account of their 
 religious principles; and WiUiam Edmundson, 
 being in that county, shared this severity, which, 
 however, v*^as made easy to them by the sweet 
 communion of mind which they had with each 
 other, and with friends and serious people who 
 visited them. 
 
 In 1665, William Edmundson went from his 
 own home to Londonderry, impressed with a deep 
 sense of the awful message which he had to de- 
 liver to the inhabitants of that city. This was a 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 19 
 
 solemn warning to " repent, or the Lord would 
 bring a scourge over them, and scale their walls 
 without a ladder." He placed a paper to this 
 import on their gates, and walked through the 
 streets with this denunciation, which struck the 
 hearts of many who heard him, with awe and 
 terror; and though he was examined by the civil 
 and ecclesiastical authorities, he left the city with- 
 out being imprisoned. The people of London- 
 derry, afterwards, remembered this warning, when 
 the siege which that city sustained reduced them 
 to the dreadful extremities of famine. 
 
 In 1669, William Edmundson was reheved of a 
 burden, which, for the most part, he had borne 
 alone, by George Fox's visit to Ireland, and his 
 establishing, in this nation, men's and women's 
 meetings for the well-ordering of the society. 
 
 In 1671, William Edmundson, having for some 
 time considered it his duty to visit the West 
 India Islands, laid his concern before Friends 
 assembled at the general meeting in Dublin, and 
 having their full concurrence, he took a tender 
 leave of his family and friends; and after attend- 
 ing the yearly meeting held in London, and visit- 
 ing some meetings in England, he embarked, in 
 company with George Fox and several other 
 friends, for those parts. They held meetings on 
 board ship, and were comforted and strengthened 
 together; and, after escaping from the pursuit of 
 a pirate, landed safe in Barbadoes, where their 
 services were acceptable. From thence Wilhamj 
 
^ WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 with Thomas Briggs, his companion, sailed for 
 the other islands, where they were generally well 
 received, except at Nevis, v/here they were not 
 permitted to land. However, some Friends, not- 
 withstanding a penalty imposed on those who did 
 so, ventured to visit them on board, to mutual 
 comfort. The governor of the island engaged 
 the master of the ship, in a bond of one thousand 
 pounds, to carry the strangers back to Antigua, 
 from whence he had brought them; and some 
 men of consequence coming on board, William 
 Edmundson remonstrated with them on the rigour 
 exercised towards Englishmen, who had come so 
 far to visit their countrymen, in not permitting 
 them to land, and refresh themselves after the 
 voyage. One of these persons, a colonel, acknow- 
 ledged that this was true. " But," said he, " we 
 hear that, since your coming to the Caribbee 
 Islands, there are seven hundred of our mihtia 
 turned Quakers; and the Quakers will not fight, 
 and we have need of men to fight, being sur- 
 rounded by enemies; and that is the very reason 
 why Governor Wheeler will not suffer you to 
 come on shore." 
 
 From these islands, William Edmundson, in 
 company with his other friends, went on a peril- 
 ous voyage to the continent of North America. 
 His ministry in Virginia took hold on the minds 
 of those professing with him there, and he was 
 enabled to instruct them in the discipline of the 
 society. Travelling to Carolina, through the 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. SI 
 
 wilderness, he endured much, and had to pass 
 nights in the woods. He at length reached the 
 house of Henry Phillips, at Albemarle River, a 
 Friend who had removed thither from New Eng- 
 land, and had not for seven years before seen one 
 of his own society. He and his wife received Wil- 
 liam Edmundson and his guides with tears of joy. 
 A meeting was appointed at his desire, at which 
 his testimony reached the hearts of several of 
 those present, some of whom, afterwards, joined 
 the society. On returning to Virginia, William 
 Edmundson waited upon the governor, Sir Wil- 
 liam Barclay, telling him that he came from Ire- 
 land, where his brother was lord-lieutenant, who 
 was kind to Friends there, as he hoped he would 
 be to those in Virginia; but he was peevish, and 
 it seemed difficult to impress his mind with kind- 
 ness. This was not the case with major-general 
 Bennett, who, with other persons of note, attended 
 a meeting. After which. Friends withdrev/ to 
 another room, to transact the affairs of the disci- 
 pline. William Edmundson explained to the gene- 
 ral and others the reason of their having done so : 
 that it was " to lay down a method to provide for 
 our poor widows and fatherless children ; to take 
 care that no disorders were committed in our 
 society; and that all lived orderly, according to 
 what they professed;" informing him that such 
 was the general practice. The major-general ex- 
 pressed his satisfaction, on hearing there was 
 such care and order amongst Friends, and wished 
 
^ WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 it had been the practice with others; adding, that 
 he was a wealthy man, and many of our friends 
 were poor, therefore he desired to contribute 
 along with them. " He was," says William Ed- 
 mundson, " a brave, solid, wise man ; received the 
 truth, and died in the same, leaving two Friends 
 his executors." 
 
 At Newport, in Rhode Island, William Ed- 
 mundson joined with some Friends, in answering 
 a challenge for a disputation, (which lasted three 
 days,) from an old clergyman, Roger Williams, 
 who poured forth many slanders against the 
 Quakers, which were refuted to the satisfaction 
 of those who were witnesses; and though he re- 
 newed the attack at Providence, he was there 
 also silenced ; and some of his party, desiring to 
 know our belief of what the soul of man was 
 made, " I told them," says William Edmundson, 
 " I beheved what the Scriptures said ; that when 
 God made man, he breathed into man the breath 
 of life, and he became a living soul; and it was 
 sufficient for me to know Christ Jesus, that re- 
 deemed my soul ; but if any of them, that were 
 great professors and old disputants, would under- 
 take to show what God made the soul of man of, 
 he might. Then one, that was an ancient, lead- 
 ing man amongst them, said he would not meddle 
 with it. This ended the dispute. Then we had 
 a seasonable opportunity to open many things to 
 the people, appertaining to the kingdom of God, 
 and way of eternal life and salvation." 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 28 
 
 Waiiam Edmundson had a remarkably quick 
 passage to Ireland, where he found that some 
 were infected with the loose, foolish imaginations 
 of Muggleton and others ; causing great errors in 
 their conduct, and great trouble to faithful 
 Friends. "We had much exercise," he adds, 
 " before we got things brought into order and 
 settled; but the Lord's power was with us, and 
 went over all; and the Lord still gave an under- 
 standing to place judgment in the right hne, praises 
 be to his name for ever! Now, honest, tender 
 Friends, that kept their habitation in the truth, 
 were very glad of my coming in such a time of 
 need; so I laboured with them in this nation, 
 both in the ministry and church-government, ac- 
 cording to the ability and gift that Christ gave 
 me." 
 
 In 1675, WiUiam Edmundson was again sepa- 
 rated from his beloved family, by making a second 
 visit to the West Indies, on a religious account. 
 On this voyage, water fell short; and the answer 
 of the captain of another ship, when applied to 
 for a barrel of water, which was, That he would 
 not give a barrel of water for a barrel of silver, 
 (being on allowance himself,) is an impressive les- 
 son, to convince how insufficient is wealth to en- 
 sure even temporal comforts. The horses were 
 fed with shavings of deal boards, mixed with 
 straw from the men's cabins, and biscuit ; and thus 
 were kept alive, till they landed at Barbadoes, at 
 which time they had scarce half a barrel of water 
 
^4 William edmundson. 
 
 >' 
 
 left. William was gladly received by Friends in 
 this island ; and the people, in general, were hum- 
 bled, under a late dispensation of a dreadful hur- 
 ricane, which had been attended with the loss of 
 many lives, besides property to a considerable 
 amount. Here his labours of love, both in public 
 meetings, and in those for discipline, and also in 
 meetings held with the negroes, appear to have 
 been blessed. In this place he held a disputation 
 with a person whom he calls " priest Ramsey ;" 
 at which it is supposed three thousand persons 
 were present, under shades formed among trees. 
 Priest Ramsey, not being able to make good his 
 charges, complained to the governor of William 
 Edmundson; representing him as a Jesuit, come 
 out of Ireland, pretending to be a Quaker, and 
 to make the negroes Christians; but, in reality, 
 would make them rebel and cut the throats of their 
 masters. Upon which the governor was about 
 to send a warrant to apprehend him. This daunt- 
 less man, hearing of this, presented himself before 
 the governor, and found him much incensed, ac- 
 cusing him with the charge concerning the 
 negroes. William told him, it was a good work 
 to bring them to the knowledge of God and 
 Christ Jesus, and to believe in him that died for 
 them and for all men; which would keep them 
 from rebelling, or cutting any man's throat ; but 
 if they did rebel, and cut their throats, as he said, 
 it would be through their own doings, in keeping 
 them in ignorance, and under oppression. The 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 25 
 
 governor became moderate, and dismissed William 
 Edmundson, desiring liim to appear before him 
 the next day, which he did, and was again attack- 
 ed by his adversary Ramsey, who was again foiled 
 in his accusation; and the governor and council, 
 showing him marks of their displeasure, he asked 
 their forgiveness, on his knees ; and with this ser- 
 vile act the contest ended, and the governor was 
 kind to William Edmundson from that time after. 
 
 Again the American continent was visited by 
 this devoted servant of his Lord. He journeyed 
 there in apparent jeopardy, the Indians being at 
 war with the European settlers. "I travelled," 
 says he, "as with my life in my hand, leaving all 
 to the Lord that rules in heaven and in earth. 
 I heard of some tender people, at a place called 
 Reading ; so five or six Friends and I went there, 
 to an ancient man's house, whose name was Gould. 
 His house was a garrison ; for at that time, most of 
 the people in those parts, except Friends, were in 
 garrisons, for fear of the Indians. When we came 
 to his house, the gates were locked: we called, 
 and the old man opened the gate. There was 
 one of their elders at prayer. I stopped Friends 
 till he had done : then we went into the room, 
 where several were met to exercise religion ; but 
 they seemed to be disturbed at our coming in. I 
 stood still, and told, them we came not to disturb 
 them; for I loved religion, and was seeking reli- 
 gious people. The old man of the house bid us 
 sit down, and he sate by me. 
 c 
 
^. WILLIAM EDMUN DSON. 
 
 *^ As I sate, my heart being full of the power 
 and spirit of the Lord, the love of God ran 
 through me to the people. I told them I had 
 something in my heart to declare amongst them, 
 if they would give me leave. The master of the 
 house, who sate by me, bid me speak ; and my 
 heart being full of the word of life, I spoke of the 
 mysteries of God's kingdom; and, as I was speak- 
 ing, I touched a httle upon the priests. The old 
 man clapped me on the shoulder, and said he 
 must stop me, for I had spoken against their mini- 
 sters. So I stopped, for I was tender of them, 
 and felt they were a tender people: yet my heart 
 was full of heavenly matter. After a little pause, 
 I told them I had many things to declare unto 
 them, of the things of God, but, being in that 
 house, I must have leave of the master of it. He 
 bid me speak on, which I did, in the demonstration 
 of the spirit and power of the Lord; so that their 
 consciences were awakened, and the vvitness of 
 God in them, answered to the truth of the testi- 
 mony. They were broken into many tears; and 
 v/hen I was clear in declaration, I concluded the 
 meeting with fervent prayer to the Lord. 
 
 *' The old man, rising up, got me in his arms, and 
 said he owned what I had spoken, and thanked 
 God that he could understand it; and said he 
 had heard that we denied the Scriptures, and de- 
 nied Christ, who died for us, which was the cause 
 of the difference betwixt their ministers and us; 
 but he understood this day, that we owned both 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 27 
 
 Christ and the Scriptures; therefore he would 
 know the reason of the difference betwixt their 
 ministers and us. I told him their ministers were 
 satisfied with the talk of Christ and the Scrip- 
 tures ; and we could not be satisfied without the 
 sure, inward, divine knowledge of God and Christ, 
 and the enjoyment of those comforts the Scrip- 
 tures declared of, which true believers enjoyed in 
 the primitive times. The old man replied, with 
 tears, those were the things he wanted. He 
 would not let us go till we had eaten with him, 
 though provisions were very scarce, because of 
 the great destruction by the wars. Thus, leaving 
 them loving and tender, when we parted the old 
 man wept, got me in his arms, and said he doubt- 
 ed he should ever see me again." 
 
 William Edmundson found his friends in Rhode 
 Island distressed, on account of the wars: the In- 
 dians committing great havock, and the people, in 
 general, as he expresses it, " outrageous to fight; 
 but the governor, Walter Clarke, being a Friend, 
 could not give commissions to kill and destroy 
 men." The company of William v/as, therefore, 
 very accceptable, and strengthening to them at 
 this time; and his advice, in conducting the disci- 
 pline, very useful. A great mortality succeeded 
 to the Indian war; and though the disease was 
 infectious, to a great degree, William Edmund- 
 son did not forbear visiting the sick famihes of 
 Friends, till he received the contagion himself j 
 c 2 
 
28 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 and then those whom he had reproved for mis- 
 conduct, seemed to rejoice at the prospect of a 
 restraint being taken oft'. However, in about ten 
 days he recovered, renewed his labours, and, ac- 
 companied by James Fletcher, took leave of his 
 friends on this island, and returned to the conti- 
 nent. 
 
 About five miles from New London they heard 
 of some baptists that kept the seventh day a sab- 
 bath, and went to visit them on that day of the 
 week. They found them, their servants and 
 negroes, sitting in silence. The entrance of stran- 
 gers seemed to disturb them; but William, gently 
 addressing them, said they had not come to dis- 
 turb them ; but hearing that they w^ere a people 
 differing from others, they had come to visit them, 
 and, if their religion was good, to partake with 
 them. After sitting a while in silence with them, 
 and feehng there were desires in them after the 
 knowledge of God, (having obtained their per- 
 mission to ask questions,) he queried why they 
 kept that day as a sabbath ? They replied it was 
 strictly commanded in the Old Testament. He 
 asked if we were obliged to keep all the laws of 
 Moses? They said no; but the keeping of the 
 sabbath seemed to be more required than the rest 
 of the laws; for the priests often blamed the Jews 
 for breaking the sabbath more than any other 
 part of the law. William Edmundson brought 
 forward the example of Christ, who, when he was 
 in the flesh, did many things which the Jews ac- 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 29 
 
 counted a breach of the sabbath ; as, heahng on 
 the sabbath day, travelUng with his disciples, 
 pkicking ears of corn, and doing many things on 
 the sabbath, with which the Jews were highly 
 offended; opening many Scriptures to them, 
 showing that Christ had ended the law of the 
 old covenant, and was the rest of his people; and 
 that all must know rest, quietness, and peace in 
 him. 
 
 To their enquiries, concerning w^ater-baptism 
 and breaking of bread, William answered, that 
 John, who had the ordinance of water-baptism, 
 said he baptized with water, but Christ should 
 baptize them with fire and the holy ghost ; and 
 that his must decrease, and Christ's must increase. 
 
 And now, by our account, it was drawing n^av 
 
 seventeen hundred years, which was sufficient 
 time to wear unto an end that which decreased, 
 and establish that which increased. And it was 
 a material question, to such as held water-baptism 
 to be in force, to show how far it was decreased, 
 and w^hen it would be at an end; and Christ's 
 baptism increased to perfection, and established 
 according to John's testimony. He believed that 
 John's water-baptism was ended long ago, and 
 Christ's established ; and that there was but one 
 faith and one baptism, as the apostle testified to 
 the Ephesians: and he explained to them that 
 Christ was the substance of all those things, and 
 his body the bread of life, that we must all feed 
 upon. They were attentive, while William thus 
 
30 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 spoke, and while he was engaged in testimony 
 and prayer amongst them, and he parted from 
 them in mutual tenderness and love. 
 
 At New Hertford, whither he went with great 
 reluctance and alone, but not daring to disobey 
 the divine command, he preached in two of their 
 worship-houses, in one of which he was rudely 
 treated. Many professors of religion came to dis- 
 pute with him, one company after another; and a 
 preacher among the baptists, charged Friends 
 with holding a great error; which was, that every 
 man had a measure of the spirit of Christ, denying 
 that any but believers had received it. But Wil- 
 liam Edmundson, telling him that Christ had 
 .enlightened every one that came into the world, 
 ,-«7ith the li^ht of his spirit, reminded hilll 9f the 
 promise, that he would send the comforter, the 
 spirit of truth, that should convince the world of 
 sin, and should guide his disciples into all truth: 
 thus the same spirit of truth, that leads believers 
 .into all truth, convinces the world of sin. The 
 baptist teacher was silent. 
 
 Uniting again with his friend, James Fletcher, 
 they journeyed to Long Island, where the meet- 
 ings of the society were much disturbed by seve- 
 ral who had left them, and joined those, who, 
 from the extravagance of their conduct, were call- 
 ed Ranters. They remained here for some time, 
 to the comfort of Friends; and though many of 
 the Ranters came to the meetings, they seemed re- 
 . strained, by a power superior to man, from per- 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 31 
 
 sisting in disturbance; and some of them expe- 
 rienced a change of heart, and condemned their 
 former conduct. 
 
 WilHam Edmundson, with his companion, tra- 
 velled through many other parts of America, en- 
 countering great difficulties, and suffering so much 
 from cold, as to require support in standing or 
 walking : yet in this condition he ventured on the 
 great bay of Chesapeak, where they narrowly es- 
 caped being lost ; and put into a little creek, in 
 an uninhabited island, for three nights, without 
 shelter from rain, sleet, and snow, they lying on 
 the wet ground. This augmented his bodily 
 sufferings, but his spirit was supported by Him 
 whom he served, and in whom he trusted ; and the 
 weather becoming more favourable, they proceed- 
 ed, in a boat, to the house of a person who, with 
 his family, had joined Friends, and arrived there 
 a httle before day. William Edmundson had 
 been ther§ before. He was got in with difficulty, 
 being unable to walk alone; but soon felt his 
 mind disquieted, under a sense that things were 
 wrong in that house, of which, in the morning, he 
 was fully convinced. Therefore, after admonishing 
 the family, he got again into the boat, and went 
 some miles further, parting with his friend James 
 Fletcher; but being pretty well recovered, re- 
 newed his travels, and was instrumental to restore 
 good order, respecting the discipline of the so- 
 ciety: also to encourage them to keep clear of 
 
32 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 party feuds, which ran high between Sir William 
 Berkely and Colonel Bacon, at that time. 
 
 A journey to Carolina appeared to be attended 
 with great danger, on account of the Indians, who 
 still retained the power and will to commit inju- 
 ries; but William Edmundson, accompanied by 
 an aged Friend, ]>erformed his visit without 
 molestation, and to his own satisfaction, and that 
 of his friends. After two years' absence he re- 
 turned to Europe, and, landing in England, at- 
 4;ended the yearly meeting, held in London; and 
 also a meeting, where he united with his friends 
 in condemning that separating spirit which had pre- 
 vailed with some, to lead them from under the cross 
 of Christ and self-denial. His return to his wife 
 and children was, as he expresses it, " in the same 
 love of God that had made us willing to part with 
 one another for a season, for the Lord's service 
 and truth's sake." This was in 1677. 
 
 Demands on account of tithes continued to 
 harass those who, for conscience sake, refused to 
 pay them. The clergyman who had before so 
 violently persecuted William Edmundson and his 
 friends, became deranged in his intellects. His 
 situation was filled by his curate, who, persisting 
 in the course his principal had pursued, put Wil- 
 liam Edmundson and his friend Robert Jackson 
 in the bishop's court; had them excommunicated, 
 taken by a writ, and committed to prison, in the 
 year 1682, himself guarding him thither; and 
 when they reached the dungeon, where felons 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. OO 
 
 were confined, scornfully told William, there was 
 his lodging. Of this imprisonment take WilUam 
 Edmundson's own account : " We were confined 
 prisoners about twenty weeks, and had many pre- 
 cious, good meetings; having the benefit of 
 Friends' company, who came to see us from most 
 parts of the nation. Few days passed, but we 
 had the company of honest-hearted Friends, from 
 one place or other. When the Lord's time was 
 come, he made way for our liberty in manner fol- 
 lowing. The lord of Ely, being then our land- 
 lord, was concerned for us, because of our suffer- 
 ings; and endeavoured with the bishop for our 
 liberty, who ordered us to come to the court of 
 Kildare. Accordingly we came ; and there was the 
 bishop, about ten or twelve priests, the lord of 
 Ely, and his steward ; with several other persons 
 of account in the world, and a great concourse of 
 people. Dean Sing was chancellor of the court. 
 John Burnyeat and Anthony Sharp accompanied 
 me to the court; yet went not in, but stood at the 
 door, where they could both see and hear us. 
 The bishop began to discourse with me concern- 
 ing tithes, which I was unwilling to enter upon, 
 being sensible of my own weakness ; but he urged. 
 Then the Lord, by his divine spirit, gave me wis- 
 dom and understanding, and brought Scriptures 
 into my memory fluently ; so that I proved tithes 
 to be ended, and that it was antichristian either 
 to pay or receive them in gospel times. Which 
 c 3 
 
34 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 thing was opened so clear to the understandings 
 of the people, that there seemed to be great satis- 
 faction in the court. Then Dean Sing stood up 
 before them all, and said, if he had known me as 
 well before as he did now, I should not have suf- 
 fered; with several other expressions of kindness. 
 
 " We went through many other things relating 
 to gospel ministers, Christian religion, faith, and 
 the true worship of God; and my understanding 
 was clear, ripe, and ready, through the assistance 
 of the Lord's blessed spirit, to answer to matters j 
 so that they could not resist what I said. The 
 bishop himself was silent. Then I told him that 
 I thought my suffering was illegal ; for that the 
 clause in the statute of Henry the Eighth, by 
 which they had proceeded against me, did not 
 take hold of me; and if a moderate, unbiassed judge 
 had the ministering of the law, he might have 
 found that I was not the man it took hold of. 
 For the words in that statute are, * that if any man, 
 out of a perverse will and ungodly mind, shall de- 
 tain his tithes, he shall be so proceeded against.* 
 But as for me, I did not detain tithes out of an 
 ungodly mind or perverse will, but out of a tender 
 conscience towards God; and could not believe 
 that the king and parliament of England intended 
 that act against tender, conscientious men; but 
 against ungodly, wilful, and perverse men, according 
 to the clause in the act. They had not considered 
 that point, and were all silent: only the bishop, 
 who ienjoined me to give him, in writing, the ex- 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. §5 
 
 act words of the aforesaid act ; and also to give 
 him, in writing, the reasons why I dissented from 
 the church of England ; saying, they must not lose 
 such a man as me ; so ordered us to appear there 
 at the next court, and wrote to the sheriff to let 
 us have our liberty until then; so broke up the 
 court. Our discourse held full three hours, and 
 in a quiet manner, without any other business. 
 When we came out to Friends who stood at the 
 court-door, John Burnyeat said he was never 
 better satisfied with a day's work in all his life, 
 the testimony of truth being so over them. The 
 next court we appeared, as ordered, and the 
 bishop then would absolve us; but I told him I 
 could not come under any of their ceremonies, 
 and we had much discourse about it. At last he 
 bid God make us good Christians, and wrote to 
 the sheriff to discharge us from prison, which was 
 readily done. This suffering and conference, 
 through the Lord's blessing, had a good effect; 
 for, since that time, both the bishop and officers 
 of that court have been kind to Friends, and par- 
 ticularly to me." 
 
 In 1683, William Edmundson, for the third 
 time, visited those he calls the Caribbee Islands 
 and Jamaica. His voyages and journeys, says 
 John Stoddart, in his preface to William Ed- 
 mundson's journal, were " at his own cost, that 
 the gospel might not be chargeable." And he 
 adds, " Though it was often his lot to be sepa- 
 rated from his wife and children, for the gospel's 
 
36 WILKIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 sake; yet he ordered his affairs with discretion, 
 that there might be no want in his family, either 
 of commendable employment or necessaries." 
 
 James the Second was proclaimed king of Eng- 
 land, on the death of his brother, Charles the 
 Second, in 1684-5. Friends met with disturbance, 
 of which William Edmundson partook. His own 
 trials appeared light, in comparison with his deep 
 feeling and prospect of approaching public dis- 
 tress, when it was revealed to him that the car- 
 casses of men would be spread as dung on the 
 earth. Of this he faithfully gave warning, and 
 advised Friends to lessen their worldly concerns, 
 and be ready to receive the Lord in his approach- 
 ing judgments, fleeing to him for succour. 
 
 This prediction was soon fulfilled. Irish affairs 
 assumed an alarming aspect. The Earl of Tyr- 
 connel, lord-deputy of Ireland, disarmed most of 
 the English, and armed the Irish. This caused 
 much apprehension and contention. William Ed- 
 mundson, suffering with others in the country, 
 from the licentiousness of the Irish army, peti- 
 tioned the deputy, who heard his complaint, and 
 cashiered the principal offender; who was, how- 
 ever, restored, on his submission, and at William's 
 request. His exertions for the safety of his 
 neighbours, were often made at the hazard of his 
 life. As for himself, his character was so well 
 known, and so much respected by government, 
 that they manifested their desire to protect him ; 
 and at his request, the chief officers of the Irish 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 37 
 
 army, when marching northwards, against the 
 protestants, who were in arms, spared Friends 
 there, and were kind to them. He had interviews 
 with King James, who heard him quietly; but the 
 tumults of civil war increasing, the country was 
 exposed to great distress. 
 
 After the defeat of the Irish army, at the bat- 
 tle of the Boyne, the straggling, flying soldiers com- 
 mitted great depredations. William Edmundson's 
 house was several times plundered, his horses taken, 
 and his life and the lives of his family often in 
 imminent danger. The English army came, and, 
 notwithstanding the proclamation issued by King 
 William, that none who lived peaceably should be 
 molested, they drove away cattle and horses, and 
 took away prisoners. It was with the utmost 
 difficulty and exertion that William saved the Hfe 
 of a person whom they had stripped for hanging. 
 He was also instrumental in saving the lives of 
 those who came to recover their cattle from the 
 enraged mihtary; and he also succeeded in getting 
 most of their cattle restored to them. At other 
 times he purchased the stock belonging to the 
 Irish, and gave them to the owners: also let their 
 horses graze on his land, to save them from the 
 plunderers. 
 
 A dreadful banditti spread over the land, be- 
 longing to neither army, but more to be dreaded 
 than both. These were called raparees, a name 
 still associated with ideas of terror, though more 
 than an hundred years are past since Ireland felt 
 
38 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 the scourge of these marauders. Those, while 
 William Edmundson attended the half-year's 
 meeting, held at Dublin, (where Friends rejoiced 
 to see the faces of each other,) drove away twenty 
 of his cows. On his return, he was not satisfied 
 to remove into a garrisoned town. One night, 
 hundreds of the banditti beset WilHam's^ house; 
 and the shots which they fired in at the windows, 
 were heard at Mountmellick, two miles distant. 
 Several were desirous to go to his assistance, but 
 the governor obstinately refused to grant military 
 aid. His house was plundered and burned, and 
 himself and his two sons led away prisoners, bare- 
 headed and bare-footed, and nearly naked ; except 
 that they gave William Edmundson an old blanket 
 of his own to wrap about him. 
 
 After a toilsome night, journeying through 
 bushes, rough stones, mire, and water knee-deep, 
 they were taken to a wood, and, after a mock 
 show of justice, condemned to death : the young 
 men to be hanged, and their father, in compliment 
 to his courage, to be shot. Though death was 
 no terror to this pious man, he expostulated with 
 his persecutors; reminding them of his services 
 in behalf of their country-folk, and challenged 
 them to prove, if he or his sons had wronged any 
 of them one farthing; and several of them con- 
 fessed they knew him to be an honest man : yet 
 justice and mercy were disregarded, and they pre- 
 pared to execute their purpose. The youths 
 were hood-winked, in order to hang them; and 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON, S9 
 
 two firelocks made ready to shoot their father, 
 whom they were about to hoodwink also; but he 
 told them they need not, for he could look them 
 in the face, and was not afraid to die. 
 
 At this juncture there arrived a lieutenant, the 
 brother of him whose life William Edmundson 
 had saved, when the English soldiers were about 
 to hang him. Thus the Lord interposed, and 
 would not suffer them to take their lives. The 
 officer released the prisoners from death, but did 
 not restore them to liberty, taking them to Ath- 
 lone; not, it should seem, from a grateful sense 
 of remembered services, but from a hope of pre- 
 ferment thereby. He kept the prisoners three 
 nights in a cabin, cold and hungry. It is proba- 
 ble food was scarce wdth all; for it was remarked, 
 with surprise, by their oppressors, how William^ 
 then advanced in life, could endure his privations. 
 He replied, they had taken away and destroyed 
 his provisions, and the Lord had taken away his 
 appetite; so he was fitted for this. But though 
 he could endure cold and hunger, and meet death 
 with pious courage, he felt for his sons ; and to an 
 old man who came out of a cabin, and looked on 
 them sorrowfully, he addressed himself, request- 
 ing a piece of bread for them, knowing they were 
 pinched with hunger. The man said he would 
 give him bread, if he bought it with gold, for he 
 beheved he was not one used to beg his bread ; 
 and bringing him some very coarse, apologized 
 for having nothing to give with it. This kind 
 
40 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 gift was very acceptable, and the prisoners held 
 on their way. 
 
 On entering the town of Athlone, the high 
 sheriff, and, after his example, the soldiers and 
 rabble, gave them abusive language; and their 
 lives might have been endangered, had not a lieu- 
 tenant of the Irish army approached William Ed- 
 mundson, and, recognizing him, declared aloud 
 his knowledge of him, and of his worth, and thus 
 quieted the tumult. They were then brought to 
 the Irish colonel, before whom this respectable 
 man appeared, wrapped in his blanket. Though 
 the colonel was personally acquainted with him, 
 he did not, in these circumstances, know him ; but 
 when he answered to his queries, " I am old Wil- 
 liam Edmundson," he rose, and, with teai's in his 
 eyes, expressed his sorrow to see him in that con- 
 dition. The lieutenant who brought him, pre- 
 ferred accusations against him, which he soon re- 
 futed. The colonel was displeased, and roughly 
 asked the lieutenant what he brought the prisoners 
 there for. He replied, to save them from the 
 raparees, who were about to put them to death. 
 This appearing to be a fraudulent excuse, the 
 colonel, who was governor of the garrison, was in- 
 dignant at the sufferings of those innocent men, 
 committed them to the care of one of his captains, 
 and sent them food and money. But they could 
 not procure straw to lie upon, and thus had to 
 repose upon the bare, cold floor, deprived of their 
 clothing, which afforded but little refreshment; 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 41 
 
 especially to the father, whose strength was much 
 spent. Thus his friend John Chbbon, from Moat 
 Grenoge, found him, when he came to visit him ; 
 and, pierced with sorrow at the sight of his de- 
 plorable situation, he wrung his hands, upbraiding 
 those who had made a prisoner of as honest a 
 man as trod the earth. William, wearied in body, 
 depressed in mind, and exposed to the company 
 of the profligate, desired rather to die quietly in 
 a dungeon, than remain among them. Most of 
 the officers knew him, and often entered into con- 
 versation with him ; and on his enquiring what he 
 had done, why kept a prisoner under such dis- 
 tressing circumstances, and why not brought to a 
 trial ? one of them answered, that they had nothing 
 against him, for any thing he had done, and he 
 believed him to be a very honest man ; but they 
 understood that he was a man of abilities, and 
 capable of doing them an injury, for which reason 
 they detained him. To this WiUiam rephed, 
 complaining of the injustice which punished a man 
 for what he was capable of doing, not for what 
 he had done. 
 
 At his request, John Clibborn desired the go- 
 vernor to permit his trial to come on, or to remove 
 him to the dungeon. The governor refused to 
 send William Edmundson to the dungeon, saying, 
 he could not find it in his heart to do so. He 
 was afraid to act as his inclination dictated, lest 
 he should incur blame from the violent party; but 
 was evidently kindly-disposed towards him, aiKl 
 
4^ WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 concerned for his sufferings; and consenting to his 
 accompanying his friend John CKbborn to his 
 house, committed him to his keeping, but he was 
 still a prisoner. One of his sons, who was his 
 fellow-prisoner, owned a tan-yard, well stocked. 
 His mother went to bring away the stock, with 
 the assistance of her neighbours. While thus 
 employed, the raparees came upon them, obliged 
 them to leave the property, and fly for their lives. 
 All escaped, except William Edmundson's wife, 
 whom they stripped of her clothes ; and her hav- 
 ing to proceed thus two miles, in the depth of a 
 cold winter, affected her health so much, that she 
 survived it but seven months. 
 
 Through the means of Colonel Bourk, of the 
 irisri army, V/illiam and his sons regained their 
 liberty. The anxiety for them had been great, 
 and many beside their own family rejoiced to see 
 them again. They had lost their comfortable 
 home, and shifted as v/ell as they could, along 
 with many others, who, forced from their habita- 
 tions, encountered distresses, and many died from 
 want. A garrison being placed at Rosenallis, by 
 the major-general of the English army, for the 
 protection of the country, those who were con- 
 nected with the banditti, and harboured them, 
 supposing that WiUiam Edmundson had encou- 
 raged this settlement, laid snares for his Hfe, from 
 which his great Preserver protected him. 
 
 When the roads permitted him to travel, he 
 went to visit his friends in the north, and there he 
 
WITLIAM EDMUNDSON. 4a 
 
 saw his prophecy fulfilled, for there were many 
 bones, and tufts of green grass that had grown 
 from the carcasses of men. 
 
 In 1691 he attended the yearly meeting held in 
 London. He parted from his family with the sor- 
 rowful foreboding that they should not all meet 
 again in this world. The account of his wife's ill- 
 ness reached him at York, and when he reached 
 home she was no more. She died some time be- 
 fore his arrival, in the fortieth year of their mar- 
 riage ; his companion from youth, and partaker in his 
 trials. He returned to his ruined dwelling at Ro- 
 senallis, accompanied by his youngest son, the rest 
 of his children having left him, most of them being 
 married. Here he made repairs, and settled for 
 cuo i^^iiiaiiiuci t>i Ilia iiic-j x^iicii, iiovvever, travcrjt^. 
 ling in the service of Him, to whom he had de- 
 voted his youth, and who did not desert his old 
 age, but enabled him to labour many ways, some- 
 times with government, respecting exactions on 
 those, who for conscience sake could not comply 
 with the demands made upon them for tithes ; and 
 he was also deeply concerned, uniting with other 
 Friends to reprove, and endeavour to restrain, the 
 propensities which led to a covetous spirit and the 
 love of show, in many members of his own society. 
 His account of a meeting at Castledermot, where 
 those subjects were weightily introduced, is as fol- 
 lows : " The Lord's power and presence mightily 
 appeared with and amongst us, to give us wisdom 
 and understanding; also a close concern came 
 
44} WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 upon us to search narrowly into matters relating to 
 Friends, and in particular to keep out a covetous 
 spirit after the riches and great things of this 
 world, from amongst our society, as knowing that 
 it surfeits and corrupts the mind, and darkens the 
 understanding where it prevails; and, through the 
 Lord's mercy and goodness, there appeared a con- 
 currence with the concern in most Friends. 
 When the service of that meeting was over, we 
 parted, in much satisfaction and comfort of 
 spirit." 
 
 In 1697, William Edmundson entered again into 
 the married state, and obtained, in his union with 
 Mary Strangman, widow of Joshua Strangman, a 
 helpmeet, who comforted his declining years. In 
 his latter journeys, George Rooke was frequently 
 his companion. At Eyre-court, in Coimaught, 
 where they held a meeting in a barn, they were 
 forcibly taken out, and William put into the stocks. 
 To behold a man of his years treated with such 
 ignominy on such an account, excited compassion 
 and grief in the spectators, some of whom wept ; 
 and while they, with his friends, stood around him, 
 George Rooke spoke a few words in exhortation, 
 for which he was also put in ; and Jacob Fuller, for 
 the same cause, suffered the same punishment. 
 After sitting there some time, the constable opened 
 the stocks, and bade William Edmundson take 
 out his leg. He told him he did not put it in ; so 
 the constable held the stocks open, and took his 
 leg out. His companions were liberated, and his 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 45 
 
 mouth was opened in powerful testimony amongst 
 the people. 
 
 At Abbeyhoyle he preached, and George 
 Rooke prayed, in the street ; and though distur- 
 bance was encouraged, the people in general 
 heard them with attention. At Sligo the magis- 
 trates were very kind, and one of them sate in the 
 first meeting, to prevent disturbance. They had 
 meetings at several places where Friends did not 
 reside, and returned to their respective homes in 
 peace. 
 
 In 1701, William Edmundson paid a religious 
 visit to many places in the north of England, and 
 in 1702 attended the yearly meeting at London; 
 being one of those appointed to solicit parliament 
 for an amendment in the Affirmation Act, which 
 might make it easy to Friends. Next year he re- 
 sumed his Christian labours, and travelled, besides 
 crossing the seas, six hundred miles. In 1704 he 
 was afflicted with sickness, of which, take his own 
 account. 
 
 " Leinster province quarterly meeting being 
 near, at Mountmellick, I got to it, though under af- 
 fliction of body, and the Lord enabled me to 
 answer what service he required of me. The 
 meeting held part of three days, in worship and 
 discipline, in both which, through the Lord's as- 
 sistance, by his divine spirit and power, I bore a 
 faithful testimony for the Lord and his blessed 
 truth ; so that if it were the last time the Lord 
 would give me to appear in public testimony, I 
 
46 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 found myself clear. After the meeting I returned 
 home ; but my illness increased, so that my whole 
 body was under great affliction, even nigh unto 
 death : no place could give me ease. Many friends 
 and elders came daily to see me, some from far, in 
 whose visits I was comforted; and by their fervent 
 prayers, through the tender mercy of God, the 
 violence of the raging distemper somewhat abated, 
 and was brought within compass of my weak* 
 abilities to bear. Also Thomas Pearce from 
 Limerick carefully applied things for my ease, in 
 this time of extremity, as heretofore he had done 
 upon the like occasions ; having accompanied me in 
 travel in the Lord's service, both in this nation and 
 in England. 
 
 " Now, in the 8th month, in the year 1 704, and 
 the 77th year of my age, being under much afflic- 
 tion and weakness of body, I was resigned to the 
 blessed will of the Lord ; yet, were it his time, 
 would gladly have been dissolved, and at ease, 
 where the weary are at rest, and the wicked cease 
 from troubling. For I was not afraid of death or 
 the grave, but could say, through the tender mer- 
 cies of God, 'Death, where is thy sting? Grave, 
 where is thy victory?' Through steadfast faith 
 and hope in my Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ, 
 who suffered for me, and whom death or the 
 grave could not hold, but rose again, and appears 
 before the Father for me, as advocate, mediator, 
 and interceder; who in my youthful days was 
 pleased to visit me with the appearance of his holy 
 
WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 47 
 
 spirit, to turn me from the evil of my ways, mak- 
 ing me sensible of his judgments and mercies, 
 calling me by his grace to a reformation, and also 
 put me into his service of the ministration of the 
 word of hfe, and doctrine of his kingdom ; endow- 
 ing me with a talent of his holy spirit of under- 
 standing, in doctrine and discipline, for the benefit 
 of his church, in which I have laboured for the 
 space of above fifty years, according to my strength 
 and ability, through many troubles, deep exercises, 
 and perils of divers kinds, met with by sea and 
 land, which fell to my lot in my line of the Lord's 
 service ; both in the wilderness, by robbers, and 
 blood-thirsty murderers, by open opposers and 
 enemies to truth, and, worst of all, by false bre- 
 thren under the same profession: these things, 
 and many other great exercises and straits, the 
 Lord's arm and gracious Providence have still 
 preserved me through, and supported me over, in 
 the .faith that gives victory, having blessed his 
 work, and given the testimony of his truth domi- 
 nion to this present time." 
 
 Restored to health, notwithstanding the weak- 
 ness of age, this dedicated servant of a gracious 
 Master continued his services, in various ways, for 
 the good of his brethren, travelling in one journey 
 three hundred miles. In 1711, after having at- 
 tended several meetings, he says : " Now, finding 
 myself unable to endure long journeys, I was con- 
 tent to rest in the will of God, who had lengthened 
 my time to old age, and done great things for me, 
 
4"8 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 to whose great and worthy name be praise^ glory, 
 and honour, for ever and evermore." 
 
 Yet, after this, recovering a Uttle strength, we 
 find him again travelling; and though attacked 
 with severe illness at an inn, in which his kind 
 medical friends, Thomas Pearce and Richard Guy, 
 attended him, he was able, after two days' rest, to 
 proceed, and complete a journey of two hundred 
 miles. The narrative of his life, written by him- 
 self, clqses thus: "Our next national meeting 
 being in Dublin, as usual, beginning the 8th day 
 of the 3d month, 1712, I found some drawings 
 upon my spirit to be there ; and in the faith of the 
 Lord Jesus Christ I went to that meeting, where 
 there was a great appearance of Friends, and the 
 service of truth carried on in great peace and 
 concord. The Lord's blessed power enabled me 
 to perform my part of the service committed to me 
 in that meeting, both in doctrine and discipline, to 
 his praise and my comfort. Here I took my leave 
 of Friends, never expecting to see their faces any 
 more in that place. When the service of that 
 great meeting was over, which held about three 
 days, in the worship of God and church discipline, 
 I went to my own house, and found my body could 
 not endure to travel, being now near eighty-five 
 years old." 
 
 After his return home, William Edmundson 
 employed himself in the regulation of his papers, 
 and perusal of his journal, and had just finished, 
 and put them in order, a few hours before he took 
 
V/ILLIAM EDMUNDSON, 49 
 
 to his bed. The day before, he had attended a 
 burial near his own house, where he was concerned 
 to admonish against pride, and to advise to prepa- 
 ration for death. Thus was he engaged in good 
 w^orks to the last, and on his death-bed frequently 
 manifested his zeal for order in the church ; not 
 sparing counsel or reproof to those who had not 
 been subject to its wholesome rules, when they 
 came to visit him. He expressed his desire to be 
 relieved from mortaUty, saying : " I am now clear 
 of the world and the things of it. I lie here," he 
 said, " under pain, and would fain be removed ; 
 but I am like one that pursues death, and it flees 
 from me : although I see not wherefore my time 
 should be prolonged, jny natural parts being de- 
 cayed ; neither see I any thing I have left undone 
 which the Lord required of me when I had 
 strength and ability, or that the Lord chargeth me 
 with any neglect or transgression." After about 
 four months' bodily sufferings, he departed this life 
 in sweet peace with the Lord, in unity with his 
 brethren, and good will to all men, the Slst day of 
 the 6th month, 1712, (O. S.) aged eighty-five. 
 
 Many testimonies are published concerning this 
 eminent man, whose services in a religious and 
 civil capacity were unwearied. The following is 
 an extract from the testimony of his widow con- 
 cerning him. " All the tune of our being together, 
 about fourteen years, I may say he showed forth a 
 godly life and exemplary conversation ; being cou- 
 
 D 
 
50 WILLIAM EDMUNDSON. 
 
 pled witli the fear of God, and bounded thereby 
 in his eating, drinking, or whatsoever he was em- 
 ployed in; careful in all things wdierewith the 
 Lord, whom he served, favoured him ; ready and 
 wilhnff to receive and entertain honest-hearted 
 Friends, whose company was delightsome to him. 
 He was a tender husband to me, and gave very 
 tender and wholesome advice to my sons. He 
 was an eminent and serviceable instrument in the 
 Lord's hand, in the churches of Christ, both in 
 doctrine and discipline ; not only at home in this 
 nation, but abroad in other countries and islands, 
 to which he was freely and faithfully given up : in 
 all which I have good ground to believe he was 
 not chargeable to the churches, but often adminis- 
 tered to others' necessities." 
 
 John Stoddart, in the preface to William Ed- 
 mundson's Journal, expresses himself thus: "He 
 was temperate in eating and drinking; decent and 
 plain in apparel ; in discourse weighty, being 
 mostly concerning the things of God, tending to 
 instruction and edification; his countenance and 
 deportment manly and grave, expressing a noble 
 and religious disposition of mind ; a loving hus- 
 band, a careful and tender father, a firm friend 
 and kind neighbour, given to hospitahty." And 
 George Rooke, to whom he was well known, tes- 
 tifies of him : " He was an excellent pattern to us 
 all, in that he spared not himself, while his abili- 
 ties were continued to him, but even to old age did 
 perform service and travels beyond the ordinary 
 
ANNE WRIGHT. 51 
 
 course of nature ; in which he would often say, the 
 Lord was his song and his strength, who had car- 
 ried him through many and various exercises and 
 perils, of divers sorts ; but the greatest trials he 
 met with were false brethren, who opposed the 
 good order of truth, which the Lord has esta- 
 bhshed amongst us; whose oppositions, both pri- 
 vate and more public, he, like a rock, immovably 
 withstood; and as a fixed star in the firmament of 
 God's power, did remain holding his integrity to 
 the last." 
 
 A new edition of his Journal was printed in 
 Dublin, 1820. 
 
 ANNE WRIGHT. 
 
 The account of this dedicated woman will be best 
 related in the words of her husband, who did not 
 make religious profession with Friends. He could 
 and did appreciate her worth ; and if the quaint 
 phraseology, minute details, and unadorned sim- 
 plicity of his style, may not gratify the delicate ear, 
 the sentiments of a sincere heart may interest the 
 feeling mind. 
 
 Ji2 
 
52 ANNE WRIGHT. 
 
 ^' A brief and true relation of Anne, the wife of 
 William Wright, of Castledermot, in the county 
 ofKildare in Ireland, who deceased the \st day 
 of December, 1670. 
 
 " I, William Wright, of Castledermot aforesaid, 
 being well known in the counties of Kildare, 
 Catherlough*, Wicklow,and city of Dublin, &c. do 
 hereby truly and faithfully certify and testify these 
 things following, concerning my dear wife, Anne 
 Wright. 
 
 ** It is very well known to many yet living, as 
 well as myself, that from her childhood she was 
 very zealous for God, and a constant frequenter of 
 the most reformed way of Christianity, as may be 
 plentifully witnessed in and about Kendal in West- 
 morland ; also in Great Yarmouth in Norfolk, and 
 Dublin in Ireland ; and, last of all, at Castleder- 
 mot aforesaid, where she lived her last thirteen 
 years and more. But at Dublin, before she came 
 from thence a year or two, she heard some of those 
 people called Quakers, and was mightily taken with 
 them; but, by the persuasion of Dr. Winter, then 
 provost of the College of Dublin, and other friends, 
 to whom she was recommended by William 
 Bridge, pastor of the church of Yarmouth; and 
 so, being received into fellowship with them, the 
 said doctor sent for her to the college, from our 
 
 * Now spelled Carlow. 
 
ANNE WRIGHT. 
 
 5S 
 
 house at Cock-hill, in Dublin; and I being at 
 home, went with her to the Doctor, who, walking 
 into the college-garden with us, directed his speech 
 to her, and told her, ' He heard that she had 
 stepped out of God's way, and had gone to hear 
 those deluded witches and sorcerers, the Quakers ;' 
 to which we answered and said : * We hoped they 
 were no such persons, but truly feared God,' or to 
 that purpose. He said again : * As I am a pro- 
 phet of the Lord, they are witches, sorcerers, de- 
 luders, and deluded; and I charge you,' speaking 
 to her, ' never to hear them any more, and I must 
 have you to promise me so to do ;' at which I 
 said: *Sir, she shall not promise you that.' 
 * Why so?' said he. ' Because,' said I, ' I know her 
 spirit better than you do : she is of a timorous and 
 melancholy spirit ; and if she should promise such 
 a thing, and afterwards repent of it, or break it, I 
 should never have peace with her; therefore, she 
 shall come under no such promise ; but it's very 
 like she shall forbear till it further appear whethei 
 they be such people or no, as you say they are. 
 So he laid his charge upon her not to hear thens. 
 any more, and so left off. After which time she 
 did forbear to liear them about twelve years, but 
 would read their books, and was much taken with 
 their humility of spirit, and great patience in their 
 great sufferings ; and about the beginning of June 
 1669, I hearing divers of the people called Qua- 
 kers at Dubhn, (they being newly come out of 
 England,) and finding such powerful words, and 
 living praises amongst them, was very desirous that 
 
54 ANNE WRIGHT. 
 
 my dear wife should hear them also, who I did 
 believe would well approve of them; and besides all 
 that, I desired to have her approbation of them. 
 
 " So, on Robert Lodge, and one Wilham Atkin- 
 son, coming to New Garden, about three miles 
 from Castledermot, where the said people had, 
 and yet have, a meeting-place, and I hearing of 
 them there, some neighbours desired I would let 
 them have a meeting at my house, I having a large 
 barn: to which I readily consented. And so, 
 upon the 13th of ♦June, 1669, there was a meeting; 
 and the said Robert Lodge did speak, pray, and 
 praise the Lord, with such wonderful and power- 
 ful Avords of truth and living praise, as I never 
 heard from the mouth of any man before, ex- 
 cept one Thomas Loe, another of them. And 
 he so continued, forcing tears plentifully from 
 many, for above five hours, without any in- 
 termission, tautology, or vain repetition of words 
 whatsoever; and though there were some that 
 watched to catch at his words, yet they found 
 none, as themselves have confessed. 
 
 " And this Robert Lodge was the first of the 
 Quakers so called, that she had heard since the 
 charge laid upon her by Dr. Winter, except by 
 way of discourse, wherein she opposed none, at 
 whose admirable parts, gifts, and grace, she was 
 ver}^ much astonished. But before he began to 
 speak, she had thought to have locked herself up 
 in a room ; but those thoughts prevailed not, for 
 which thoughts, after she had heard him, she was 
 much confounded in herself, and cast down ; yet 
 
ANNE WRIGHT. 5^ 
 
 she continued in an excellent, fine, humble posture, 
 and in a moderate way, for about two or three 
 months after. But, upon consideration, that when 
 in praise and prayers to the great God of heaven 
 and earth, we speak to him as a single person, 
 thee and thou, and yet to a mortal man, whether 
 king, prince, lord, knight, or other superiors, we 
 speak to him in the plural number you, as a word 
 more honourable than the other, lest we should 
 displease him or them as men; and to speak thee 
 and thou to our inferiors as we did to God, was a 
 great sin, no doubt, she thought. To which I 
 answered her: * It must needs be so, if so be that 
 we should speak to God as we do to our inferiors. 
 But when we speak to God, we come in another 
 manner of way and style ; as, thou, O Lord God 
 of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel; and unto thee, O 
 Lord, belongeth praise ; and against thee, thee 
 only, have I sinned, &c. : the same that was given 
 him of all his saints. Here it is looked upon as a 
 far higher title and style, being given to God, 
 without any dissimulation, more than either ye or 
 you is to any single person, though a prince.' And 
 to this purpose I argued with her. But this was 
 no satisfaction to her, but from that time she used 
 the single word to single persons, which, without 
 doubt, is most proper in all languages, and, for 
 ought I know, is least used in our Enghsh tongue ; 
 but to say positively that it is a sin for an English- 
 man to use his own native country speech, I can- 
 not find it out; yet I wish none to be offended at 
 
56 ANNE WRIGHT. 
 
 it; no more than king Charles is, who receives rt 
 often without taking offence at it, as far as ever I 
 heard. 
 
 "Well, towards April, 1670, she had a strong 
 motion or command from God, as she said, to go 
 to DubHn, into some cathedral there, in sackcloth 
 and ashes; but she was in some trouble of mind 
 how to reveal it to me, and to get my consent; and 
 I heard of it by another, before she spoke to me 
 herself; but at last she spoke of it to me, and told 
 me I must be content to give her up to the work of 
 the Lord freely. I told her she was my wife till 
 death, and till then I was not willing to part with 
 her; and I desired her to leave off heeding of such 
 fancies, as I supposed that was : but she was rest- 
 less to get me to yield and give way ; but I gave 
 her none at all at that time, though she begged 
 hard with many tears, which made me weep also, 
 insomuch that when she came to take her leave of 
 me, I would not suffer her to kiss me, but put her 
 from me, nor give her a penny of money, nor was 
 I willing to lend her a horse; but when I saw she 
 could not be stopped without force, but was re- 
 solved to go on foot, crying out. She could not, 
 nor must not disobey the Lord God, I gave way 
 to the man that rode before her, that she might, if 
 she would, take an old horse she used to ride on. 
 So on the 1st of April, 1670, she went to Dublin; 
 and talking with some of her friends about it, and 
 telling the manner of her parting with me, they 
 persuaded her to return again, doubting the reality 
 
ANNE WRIGHT. 57 
 
 of her call, and advising her to the contrary, as it 
 was told me, or at least to wait, and be sure to 
 have a true call. So she came home again, about 
 four days after she went, without doing any 
 thing. 
 
 " But, within ten days after, she must needs go 
 again, being more and more troubled, that she had 
 not done her first-intended work; whereupon I, 
 perceiving her trouble, and how she laboured 
 daily to please me in every thing, hoping thereby 
 to gain my consent and willingness to her new-in- 
 tended journey, having had so bad success without 
 my consent; and I seeing her so restless in her 
 mind till it was done, though she endeavoured to 
 hide her troubles from me, as much as she could; 
 so I, seeing there was no way but one for her to 
 have peace of conscience, and me to be of peace 
 outwardly, I was forced to let her go, which was 
 no small joy to her. So she went, and on the 17th 
 of April she went to Patrick's cathedral in Dub- 
 lin, in time of their singing and common prayer, in 
 black sackcloth of hair, and ashes upon her head, 
 and there stood till all was ended, and then told 
 them. That was not the v»'orship that God delighted 
 in. But no man lifted a hand against her, but 
 bade her depart in peace, which she did; and 
 some said she was a mad woman, and some one 
 thing and some another; but, within two or three 
 days after, she came home rejoicing, and was 
 merry and pleasant with me, and very loving. 
 d3 
 
58 ANNE WRIGHT. 
 
 "But she had not been long at home, till she was 
 strongly moved or commanded to go through the 
 streets of the city of Cork, in like manner, but 
 knew not how to reveal it to me, and not displease 
 me; but, if possible, to get my consent or permis- 
 sion. So I heard of it from another, some weeks 
 before she told me; for which I v*^as not well 
 pleased with her, that she should not reveal it to 
 me first. But she said slie knew not how I would 
 take it, and therefore did hide it from me as long 
 as she could; but the appointed time being nigh, 
 she desired I would let her have twenty shillings, 
 and give my consent to her journey, and she 
 would not be long absent, nor trouble me for a 
 horse, for she had a friend would lend her one. 
 So, seeing her in that restless condition, and not 
 knovt ing but that it might be of God, I gave con- 
 sent, but seemingly to be more unwilHng than 
 really I was, giving her the money ; saying, if I 
 were sure that it was of God, and his call to his 
 work, I should be glad, and as willing as she, or 
 to that purpose. Whereupon she, with no small 
 jo}', said: "My dear love, fear not; thou slialt see 
 me return in safety and peace, when I have done 
 what the Lord requires of me.' 
 
 " So, upon the 1st of June, 1670, she took her 
 journey with Thomas Moore, who rode before her 
 on his own horse to Cork, and she went through 
 that city in sackcloth and ashes ; and afterwards 
 went to the mayor of Cork, to reprove him, as I 
 suppose, for his cruelty and bitterness in the per- 
 
ANNE WRIGHT. 59 
 
 secuting of those people; who threatened to have 
 her wliipt through the city as a vagabond and an 
 idle person ; and was sending her away to the jail 
 by an officer, had not one John Hammond stept 
 into the mayor, and desired him not to do it, for 
 she was no such woman, but the Vv3ry contrary; 
 and that he knew her husband to be an honest and 
 sufficient man. So the mayor asked her if she 
 had her husband's consent. She said her husband 
 did condescend, knew of her coming, and gave her 
 money. He asked her if her husband would cer- 
 tify that under his hand, attested by two or three 
 justices of the peace of the county of Kildare? 
 To all which he required the said John Hammond 
 to be bound ; who was immediately bound in an 
 hundred pound bond or recognizance, to make it 
 appear within a certain short time, I think less than 
 a month: which certificate I sent, attested under 
 two justices' hands and my own, with my letter to 
 the mayor, reciting all her former life, &c. 
 
 " After she vvas come home, which was the IGtli 
 of June aforesaid) being the sixteenth day after 
 she went, being very hearty and pleasant, and at 
 rest in her mind, having done what was required 
 of her, she staid at home the rest of June and 
 July; but, soon in August, a friend of mine told 
 me that he feared she was not yet satisfied, but 
 doubted she would have a call for England, which 
 put me into an admiration, and some trouble was 
 upon my spirit and in my mind, to add to my other 
 worldly troubles ; but when she could liide it no 
 
60 ANNE WRIGHT. 
 
 longer, but that the time grew nigh that she must 
 needs go through London, as she had done in 
 Cork, and therefore desired me to give her up 
 wholly to the Lord, and to his work, as she had 
 often done before, for she had a great work to do. 
 " But I gave her httle hopes of my condescend- 
 ing to her request, telling her I was not bound by 
 any law of God or man to give her up, or part 
 vv'ith her, upon any such conceits or strong fancy 
 as she was daily conceiving in her melancholy 
 mind; yet, though I thus said, I had a secret con- 
 sideration in my mind, that perhaps it might be the 
 work of God. But I would not show my mind to 
 her, but rather seemed to oppose ; arguing the 
 case with her, hov/ she could make it out to be 
 lawful, by any law of God or man, for a wife to 
 leave her husband and family, against his will and 
 without his consent. But she said she hoped 
 to have my consent ; and, indeed, she laboured 
 daily for it, telling me she brought me a good es- 
 tate, and she had been no chargeable wife to me; 
 she had spared many a pound which other wives 
 had spent of their husband's in such things as she 
 never delighted in: but if I would but now let her 
 go to do this work God had commanded her, she 
 would be willing to do any thing for me all her 
 days, that would not offend God; and be sure, 
 said she, ' that God will bless thee the better for 
 it.' But the next morning, after I was up, I heard 
 her cry very loud, and running in to see what was 
 the matter, she was wringing her hands, sitting 
 
ANNE WRIGHT. 61 
 
 upon the bed, and crying with a loud voice, say- 
 ing: * Oh ! that I may never disobey my God, 
 whatever becomes of me! Oh! that I may be 
 faithful to the Lord my God, all my days. Oh! I 
 had better never to have been born, than I 
 should disobey the Lord.' And thus she lament- 
 ed, as if her poor heart would break. Whereupon 
 I persuaded her to hold her peace, and be con- 
 tented, and she should have her heart's desire ; for 
 if the Lord had commanded her to do his work, 
 he would find out a way to bring it to pass, and. 
 make her way plain before her, or to this effect. 
 
 " So she was contented, and I was glad I had pa- 
 cified her; and from that hour I was resolved not 
 to hinder her, and when the time drew near, I 
 asked her how she did intend to go or travel? 
 had she any store of money? She said she hoped 
 I would give her some. I told her she was not ig- 
 norant of my great affairs, and occasions I had 
 daily for money; but, said I, *How much do you 
 expect from me ?' She said, forty shillings. ' Alas !' 
 said I, * what will that do for you, or how long will 
 that last?' She said, God would provide for her. 
 I said she had taken near twenty shillings from me 
 lately, Where was that? She said she had it, 
 but hoped I would give her more to it ; where- 
 upon I gave her four pounds more to it, half in 
 gold, the rest in English money, which I had pro- 
 vided for her, though I seemed to be against her 
 journey. I told her I hoped it would serve her to 
 London at least, and then what she had need of 
 
^ ANNE WRIGHT. 
 
 she might take up of some friend, and I would an- 
 swer her bill ; which was not five pounds more in 
 all her whole journey, and she bought a Bible, a 
 Testament, and divers good books and other 
 things. But, before her appointed time of going, 
 I had an occasion to go from home, and I ordered 
 a man and horse to go to the ship, which was at 
 Passage, near Waterford ; and because she had 
 often begged of me to give her wholly up to the 
 Lord, I did resolve to do what I did in writing; 
 to which there should neither be adding nor di- 
 minishing, but til at I might know. And therefore 
 I had prepared a little book to give her, just at my 
 parting with her, which showed her how far I gave 
 her up unto the Lord, and leave to go, my prayers 
 to God to prosper her in his own way and vt^ork, 
 and for her safe return to her habitation. All 
 which I humbly and heartily, in faith and zeal, 
 did beg of the Lord for her, before she went, and 
 afterward, till she returned; which said words, 
 yea, every line in the said little book, was as ex- 
 actly performed, fulfilled, granted, and brought to 
 pass, by Him of whom they were desired, without 
 doubt, as ever any thing was done; which said 
 little book she had along with her, and brought it 
 safe again ; whose words here follow verbatim. 
 " On the back of the book was written: 
 
ANNE WRIGHT. 63 
 
 " ' For Anne Wright, these to read and consider 
 thrice over at least, or once every xveek* 
 
 *' ^ Anne Wright, my dear wife, in order to thy 
 intended journey and voyage, I write these things 
 for thee to look upon and peruse. Thou art my 
 wife till death us do part; and by God's great 
 mercy and goodness, we have enjoyed each other 
 this twenty-six years and more, in prosperity and 
 adversity. The Lord our God has delivered us 
 out of many and great tribulations and afflictions : 
 praises to his holy name, for all his mercies and 
 goodness towards us. Thou hast, of late, often 
 begged of me to give thee up to the work of the 
 Lord, whose work thou sayest thou art going 
 about now, and intends to take thy journey to- 
 wards Waterford, to-morrow, being the 22d day 
 of this August, 1670, and from thence to London, 
 there to do the Lord's work; and I see there is 
 no staying of thee, thy haste and violence are such. 
 Well, this I say unto thee, upon condition that it 
 be wholly the work of the Lord God of heaven and 
 earth, the God of the spirits of ail flesh, the living 
 God of the living saints, I do let thee freely go 
 to do his work he hath appointed thee to do, 
 according to His will and good pleasure. 
 
 " * But to the work of any other do I not give 
 thee up ; no, not for a minute of time ; but to his 
 work and service only, who gave thee unto me, 
 even the God of eternal glory. Do thou his 
 will and work ; and what he has for thee to do, 
 
6^ ANNE WRIGHT. 
 
 do it with all thy might, and the Lord prosper 
 thee in it, and deliver thee from all thine (and 
 His) enemies, both of soul and body, and keep 
 thee in his true fear, and in obedience to his will, 
 and bring thee safe back again to this place, for 
 his name and mercy's sake; that when his ap- 
 pearance to thee is made plain to me and to us 
 both, we may, with one accord, praise his holy 
 name, for all his goodness to us. 
 
 *' * And this I further say and advise, if it may be 
 received, and not slighted or despised : do nothing 
 in those extraordinary ways or things, but what 
 thou hast a clear call from God for, otherwise 
 thou shalt not prosper ; for my poor (and by some 
 despised) prayers shall be to prosper and preserve 
 thee in the Lord's own work, and not in any evil 
 or sinister way. Therefore, as thou prosper in 
 the Lord's work, so shall I and others believe that 
 he sent thee. Well, when the said work is done, 
 remember thy family, who will long to know what 
 is become of thee ; and know that thou hast some 
 work there, which thou oughtest to look after; 
 which all people, both saints and sinners, know- 
 to be thy lawful work, and thy duty. 
 
 " * But thou hast always laid the burden of the 
 world wholly upon my back, and thou art not 
 satisfied that I see not as thou seest in every 
 tiling; but this I say unto thee, if thou hast that 
 white stone, wherein is the new name written, that 
 none knows but he or they that receive it, thou 
 canst not impart it to another. Make good use 
 
ANNE WRIGHT. 65 
 
 of it thyself, and know that it was given thee, and 
 he that gave it thee can also give it to whomso- 
 ever he pleases ; for he will have mercy on whom 
 he will have mercy, and, blessed be his holy 
 name ! he has had mercy on me abundantly, and 
 I bless and praise his holy name. I can believe, 
 and do beUeve for more mercy, without any 
 doubting. Praises, praises to his eternal, holy 
 name, for ever and ever ! 
 
 " * Let me hear from thee as often as thou canst, 
 how it is with thee, whether it be good or bad ; 
 for it will be more satisfaction to me to know the 
 truth, though bad, than to be in fear of worse. 
 
 " * Thou mayst write to Samuel Claridge, near 
 Nicholas Gate, in Dublin, to be sent to me. Let 
 not thy letters be over large; but short, true, and 
 pithy: and so the true, powerful, living, and eter- 
 nal mighty Jehovah, even the God and father of 
 our Lord Jesus Christ, who with the son and 
 spirit is one, in love, in unity, in power, and in 
 glory eternal, keep thee in the perfect way of his 
 truth, from all delusion of Satan, and from every 
 false way, now and at all times, by sea and by 
 land, by day and by night, in body and in soul, 
 for evermore. Amen! saith he that can but love 
 thee and pray for thee, thy old friend and hus- 
 band, 
 
 " ' William Wright* 
 
 " * Castledermot, in the county of Kildare, 
 in Ireland, 21st of August, 1670. 
 
66 ANNE WRIGHT. 
 
 " ' P.S. My dear, I do further advise and entreat 
 thee, that thou go not to see any old acquaintance, 
 or kindred, till thou hast done thy work thou goest 
 about, as aforesaid, except thou shouldst be stopt 
 and imprisoned : then use thy liberty of sending, 
 or not sending to them. And if thou shouldst 
 see Thomas Hatton, my cousin John Wilson, or 
 my sister and her husband, remember my kind 
 love to them all, or as many as you see of them; 
 but step not out of thy M^ay for me, or on my ac- 
 count, except I desire it of thee. Thomas Moore, 
 I hope, vi^ill not leave thee, except thou be in re- 
 straint, and not he; and if so, he will not leave 
 thee suddenly. God keep you both in his love 
 and true fear, saith and prayeth he who always 
 wishes thy eternal good. 
 
 " * William Wright.' 
 
 " This little book she carried along with her, and 
 brought it safe back again. She was not a little 
 glad wlien she first read the aforesaid lines; for 
 she had her heart's desire when she got me to 
 condescend. But it seems, she did not go until 
 the 2Gih day of August: that was four days 
 after; for her friends, or the church, being met 
 togetiier, would not suffer her to go without the 
 company of a woman. So Mary, the wife of 
 Major Bennet, being strongly moved to go along 
 with her, but did not reveal it till very near the 
 time. Much might be said of Mrs. Bennet's mov- 
 ings and calls to go with I^er, whiqh I cannot here 
 
ANNE WRIGHT. 67 
 
 conveniently mention. So she went with her the 
 whole journey, and Thomas Moore along with 
 them, by a general consent. 
 
 ^^ Extract from lier letter from London, 26th of 
 September, 1670. 
 
 " * My God, my rock, my strength, who hath 
 done all for me since I knew him, who is invinci- 
 ble, which none comes to know aright, but as 
 they turn in to the witness of God in themselves: 
 he, I say, whose power is over all the powers of 
 darkness, hath preserved thy dear wife. The 
 Lord alone doth all, by his mighty power. I went 
 from Aldgate to Ludgate, which is the chief street 
 of the city, according to the blessed command and 
 appointment of the great God of heaven and earth, 
 in sackcloth and ashes, the 24th day of the 7th 
 month, inst. and the Lord did give me strength 
 and boldness to speak the word of the Lord in 
 the streets; and none, old nor young, did me 
 harm. I was amazed I went so on, and so little 
 disturbance when I spoke. They stood about 
 me; and, when the words were ended, they part- 
 ed and let me go. Here is cruelty: companies 
 with swords, pikes, muskets, blunderbusses, hal- 
 berts, driving Friends before them, as they stand 
 on either side the street, when the meeting-house- 
 doors are shut up. They weary themselves in 
 wickedness. Troopers, at other places, fetching 
 Friends to prison. Some they beat. My heart 
 did ache to see how one was abused. Dear Mary 
 
68 ANNE WRIGHT. 
 
 Bennet and I were pulled and flung, but no harm; 
 but it was more than in the service through the 
 city. * * * 
 
 " ' Remember the question thou asked me 
 when we last parted. O that it were accomplish- 
 ed! keep silence.' 
 
 " The question she speaks of, that I did ask 
 her a little before we parted, was, Whether she 
 had any call or command to go to the king, or 
 speak or write any thing to him. 
 
 "To which she answered; * Now, since thou 
 asked me, I cannot at present tell. I have had 
 some movings or motions in my heart, or to this 
 purpose, but nothing absolute as yet; but I de- 
 sire to wait upon the Lord in the thing.' To 
 which I replied to her, and said: ' If my word 
 were to be taken notice of, or worth regarding by 
 thee, I would advise and charge thee, that thou 
 meddle not in that case, or in any of the like 
 nature, except thou hast a clear call from the 
 Lord God for it.' Which, afterward, it appears 
 clearly she had, before she left Ireland ; for it was 
 done with admiration, as appears by what fol- 
 loweth. 
 
 " The king being gone to Newmarket, and she 
 staying a good while for his coming, (above a 
 month,) it was revealed to her one morning, that 
 she should speak with the king that day. And 
 she made haste, and went to a friend's house near 
 James's Park; and she was told that the king 
 
ANNE WRIGHT. 69 
 
 would walk in the park about such an hour. 
 Whereupon she set a little maid to watch when 
 the king went into the park. At the time ap- 
 pointed, the maid came, and told her the king 
 was in the park; and withal, showed her a private 
 door, that went out of a house into the park, 
 through which door she and the little maid went; 
 she having on a govm of black hair-cloth, and 
 ashes upon her head, but her riding-hood over 
 it. So she steps toward the king, as he came 
 near, and throwing off her riding-hood to the 
 little maid, and in her doleful habit of sackcloth 
 and ashes, she reaches a paper to the king, with 
 these ensuing words written therein: 
 
 ' ' ' Received from the great and mighty God^ in 
 fear and. trembling, iii Ireland, 
 
 *' * O king, the King of kings, that formed thee 
 in the womb, hath sent me unto thee with this 
 message: This is the word of the Lord, that gave 
 thee life and breath, and brought thee forth into 
 this world, and nourished thee in thy infancy, 
 youth, and riper years, and preserved thee in 
 many dangers, and gave thee thy life for a prey, 
 as it is this day ; but thou hast forgotten my mer- 
 cies and deliverances, and hast not barkened unto 
 my counsel, nor to my instruction, but takest coun- 
 sel with those who are the enemies of thy soul's 
 peace, and my enemies; for they act contrary to 
 my will, and the sore judgments that I brought 
 upon this city have not been rightly laid to heart; 
 
70 ANNE WRIGHT. 
 
 but my people, that refrain their feet from evil, 
 are made a prey of; therefore I am displeased, 
 saith the Lord of hosts. 
 
 " * And, since my coming into England, many 
 times great hath been the weight and burden that 
 hath been upon my spirit, concerning thee, O 
 king ! O that thou mightst, with meekness and 
 moderation, seriously read and consider these 
 things, which are from the Lord. The days of 
 man are short: all souls are immortal: prize time, 
 lest the day of visitation pass over. Oh, but what 
 manner of lamentation may be taken up for thee, 
 O King Charles! How often hath the Lord sent 
 his servants and messengers unto thee, who, in 
 love and tenderness, have laid their sufferings be- 
 fore thee; but they have not been regarded, nor 
 their burdens removed. O that yet thou mightst 
 be tender-hearted unto the Lord's innocent lambs, 
 for they would not hurt a hair of thy head: but 
 if they may not have liberty of their conscience, 
 to meet together to serve the Lord, then will the 
 cry of the innocent enter into the ears of the 
 Lord of sabbaoth, and he will rise and plead their 
 cause, in his due time, who have no helper in the 
 earth but the Lord. 
 
 " * Anne Wright.' 
 
 " These foregoing words, written by her own 
 hand, she gave into the king's hand, the Sd day 
 of the week, and 15tli of the 8th month, in 
 James's Park. The king took the paper, and read 
 
ANNE WRIGHT. 71 
 
 it, walking; his lords and attendants following 
 aftei- him. And when he had read it, he turned 
 back, and said : ' What art thou, woman ? a 
 Quaker ?' She answered and said : * O king, in 
 obedience to the great God of heaven and earth, 
 and to clear my conscience to thy immortal soul, 
 I am here before thee this day; that, lying down 
 and rising up, thou mightst seriously consider 
 that the days of man are but short, and that thine 
 may be short also.' So the king walked away, 
 and she left him, 
 
 " After which I find written as followeth : ^ Oh, 
 the kindness of the Lord, who can declare ? Our 
 God is worthy to be obeyed for ever. To him 
 be all honour and glory, who hath been with me 
 in this work, that so I may return in peace ! Oh, 
 how full of bowels of mercy, love, and compassion, 
 is the Lord, to all those that trust in his name! 
 
 " * Anne Wright.' 
 
 " Now, after all this great work and service 
 was done, her mind immediately began to think 
 of me, and her children, and family, just accord- 
 ing to the instructions I had given her; and she 
 was bid to make haste home, that she might bear 
 the burden he had for her to bear; which burden 
 was death, though she understood it not then; 
 but rather thought it had been some other hard 
 service, or great trouble, that was to come upon 
 her, or me, or the family. But hers is past. The 
 
7-2 AKNE WRIGHT. 
 
 Lord send ours well past, when his appointed 
 time is come to call us hence ! 
 
 " But when my sister and other friends in Lon- 
 don, did tell her it was a dangerous time to cross 
 the sea, and they were afraid of her, and the like, 
 she said: * Sister, be content; fear not. Thou 
 shalt hear that we shall have a brave and peace- 
 able passage.' And so they had ; for they came 
 to Nesson, and staid but about two days for a 
 wind, though many poor passengers had staid six 
 or seven weeks, at least, for a wind. They were 
 two nights at sea, and had no storm, but mild 
 and temperate weather. So, upon the first day 
 of the week, in the afternoon, being the 13th day 
 of November, 1670, she came to Samuel Claridge 
 his house in Dublin, where she lodged that 
 night; and in the morning she writes to me her 
 last letter, which here followeth : 
 
 " * My dear and loving husband, my dear love 
 to thee and our dear children and family. 
 Through the infinite, unspeakable, loving kind- 
 ness of the Lord, thy wife is here at Dublin. O, 
 my dear, it is beyond utterance what the Lord 
 has done for me ; and his love is greatly to be had 
 in everlasting remembrance, that my dear friends 
 that went with me, and I, are come to Ireland so 
 well: and, truly, my joy for them is more than for 
 myself. I could have been contented that they 
 had been at their habitations, whatever had been 
 concerning me. But the Lord's work is accom- 
 
ANNE WRIGHT. 73 
 
 piished, and I was not imprisoned or hurt. We 
 came on shore yesterday, in the afternoon ; being 
 the first day of the week, and the loth of 9th 
 month. 
 
 " ' Thy loving wife, whilst I remain, 
 
 '' * Anne Wright.' 
 
 (" But I must never expect any more from her.) 
 
 " But by that time that this letter was at my 
 house, near Castledermot, I came from the county 
 of Wicklow to Dubhn, not thinking, in the least, 
 to find her there ; because the wind seemed to be 
 quite contrary, for about six weeks before, at 
 least; but stepping into Samuel Claridge*s, to en- 
 quire for some letters, or news from her, she was 
 standing in the kitchen, and hearing my voice, 
 she turned, and ran, and got me in her arms, say- 
 ing: ' My dear, sweet love, art thou there?' At 
 which sudden surprise I was much amazed. I 
 staid with her there till she went home; and on 
 the seventh day of the week, and the 19th of 
 November, she left Dublin, near ten in the fore- 
 noon, being a very cold day; having in her com- 
 pany Major Bennet and his wife, her fellow-tra- 
 veller, and my man, that rode before her. 
 
 " I, having urgent occasion in Dubhn, which she 
 knew of, could not conveniently go along with her« 
 So I desired them to go no farther than Dunlavin 
 that night; for it would be as far as they could 
 
 E 
 
74 ANNE WRIGHT. 
 
 well go. But when they came there, being very cold 
 and faint, she could scarce go into the house, or 
 speak, having rode eighteen or nineteen miles 
 without staying; but though she was so bad, she 
 was loath to stay there all night, but staid till 
 after the moon rose. So, about three hours within 
 night, she and her man only, left Dunlavin, and 
 came home at about one o'clock at night, very 
 sick, having missed their Vv^ay ; and so went to her 
 bed at her own house. But never walked more 
 alone, but grew worse and worse; insomuch, that 
 my daughter Mary desired to send for me; but 
 she would not let her, saying: ' Thy father hath 
 great business to do, and he will come as soon as he 
 can; and if you should send, it would but trouble 
 him, and obstruct his business, and I hope I shall 
 be better.' 
 
 " But when they perceived that she grew 
 weaker and weaker, they sent a man for me. So 
 I went home the oOth of November, about six at 
 night ; and before I came in, they told me she was 
 better that day than of a week before ; but when 
 I saw her, and found her countenance changed, 
 and the appearance of death in her face, I could 
 not forbear weeping, as soon as ever I looked 
 upon her. Whereat she said : * Weep not, my 
 dear; do not cry; fear not, I shall be well again.' 
 So I staid by her some hours, till they that 
 looked to her desired me to leave her alone, tliat, 
 perhaps, she might sleep a little. So I, being 
 very weary, went into the next room, and laid 
 
ANNE WRIGHT. 75 
 
 down ; but within a few hours after, they called 
 me, and said she was very ill. Yet she spoke 
 to me, but not with ease ; and so she continued, 
 growing weaker and weaker, having her eyes 
 greatly upon every one that came in or moved, 
 till the last hour. And so, without any trouble of 
 mind, in the least, (being often asked, while she 
 could speak,) she drew sweetly away; and be- 
 tween the hours of ten and eleven, in the fore- 
 noon, the 1st of December, 1670, she quietly 
 finished her course and her work in this hfe, and 
 I hope is in eternal rest. 
 
 " And thus you have a true and faithful rela- 
 tion of Anne, the daughter of John Howgill, of 
 London, who was my true, faithful, virtuous, and 
 loyal wife, near twenty-seven years; who, from 
 the time I have known her, I am sure she would 
 not have told a lie, or made any manner of excuse, 
 if it might have gained me a thousand pounds ; or 
 the least manner of an oath, or taking the name 
 of the Lord in vain, or suffered her children to 
 do it. Only once, about twenty-four years ago, 
 she spoke a word unadvisedly, by way of a wish 
 to herself, in a little passion, which cost her many 
 a tear since. And although she had an estate in 
 lands, better than eleven hundred pounds, yet she 
 could never endure any proud clothes, or new 
 fashions, in all her life; nor any music, dancing, vain 
 mirth, ringing of bells, or vain rejoicings. Always 
 saying, it was no rejoicing-times when the church of 
 E 2 
 
76 ANNE WRIGHT. 
 
 God was in such distress ; but always looked for 
 more sad times, and sore judgments to come, from 
 whence she escaped, I hope, eternally. 
 
 " She was zealous for the Lord from her very 
 infancy, having read the Bible four times before 
 she was eight years of age, as I have heard her 
 mother often say. Her great desire and dehght 
 was, to endeavour the union of all that feared 
 God, of what judgment soever they were, and to 
 draw towards the highest truth, and most spiritual 
 way. Nay, she would be speaking precious things 
 to the most profane persons, oftentimes ; inso- 
 much, that I have often said to her, that she did 
 but cast pearls before swine ; for though they 
 seemed to give diligent heed to what she said, 
 yet they did but laugh at her when they were 
 gone. She would answer, that their souls were 
 precious, and it might be they would take notice 
 of her words at some time or other. And really 
 she had a way of speaking to them that seemed 
 to civilize the worst of men, tliat they would not 
 speak against her, or against any thing she said. 
 
 " When she was at home, she spent most of 
 her time in surgery, about which she would be the 
 most part of the day, dressing wounds and sores; 
 insomuch that I could scarce have her company 
 at dinners, when there were many, as often there 
 were; for I have found seven, eight, ten, yea, 
 sometimes seventeen patients in the house at once. 
 In a word, her delight was to do all the good she 
 could, and to bring all others into the way of 
 
ANNE YrRIGHT. 77 
 
 truth; but she hated evil in all, but more especially 
 in herself. She was never very strong, or able of 
 body ; yet she has gone seven or eight miles on 
 foot, in frost and snow, when horses could not 
 stand, to hear a sermon, when she was a maid; 
 and now, since she was in this way, she has tra- 
 velled more, and with more ease, wiUingness, and 
 activity of body, and more light and nimble, than 
 she has been for twenty years before. 
 
 " Now, whosoever may come to read these lines, 
 may judge, as they tli ink fit, concerning her call 
 to that great work, of going as a sign in that great 
 city, and writing and speaking such words to the 
 king, wherein is not the least flattery or plausi- 
 ble word. And having finished the work she 
 went about, the Lord finished her work also ; and 
 by these words he has comforted me : ^ Blessed 
 are the dead wdiich die in the Lord, that they 
 may rest fi om their labours, and their works fol- 
 low them.' And though I know, assuredly, that 
 she expected not salvation for any works that ever 
 she did ; yet this is my comfort, I know she had 
 no bad works to follow her. She died at the age 
 of forty-seven years, and about six weeks, as near 
 as I can account. 
 
 " And she shall rise again; for her Redeemer 
 liveth. 
 
 " William Wright." 
 
 " Barnhill, near Castledermot, 
 16th December, 1670." 
 
 (From MS.) 
 
78 SUSANNA MITCHELL. 
 
 Extract from the Records of the National Meeting 
 of Ireland. 
 
 " Anne Wright, the wife of William Wright, of 
 Barnhill, in the county of Kilclare, was convinced 
 of the blessed truth, at a meeting where was 
 Robert Lodge. She was zealous for truth, and 
 travelled in the service thereof, and left a good 
 savour behind her. She died in the year 1670, 
 and was buried in her own garden." 
 
 SUSANNA MITCHELL. 
 
 Of Susanna Mitchell, this character is given in 
 *' Rutty's Rise and Progress of the People called 
 Quakers." She was a zealous, faithful servant of 
 the Lord for many years, till her decease; and 
 often bore a public testimony to God's everlasting 
 truth, before magistrates, priests, and people; for 
 which she was often a sufferer in bonds, and re- 
 joiced to be found worthy. Sho died in 107^. 
 
ROBERT SANDHAM. 
 
 Robert Sandham was born near Petworth, Sus- 
 sex, in England, in the year 16^:30. His own incli- 
 nation coincided with the endeavours of his pious 
 parents, for his increase in the knowledge of what 
 was good, and the preservation of a tender con- 
 science towards God and towards man. He join- 
 ed himself in rehgious communion with the Bap- 
 tists. 
 
 In the year 1650, he came into Ireland, a 
 lieutenant in Cromwell's army, and was stationed 
 at Youghall. Soon after his arrival, that town 
 partook of a calamity which visited other places — 
 a pestilential and infectious disorder. It proved 
 fatal to many of the inhabitants. Many of the 
 soldiers, also, were seized with it; and Robert 
 Sandham exerted himself to have proper atten- 
 tion paid to, and necessaries provided for them; 
 going almost every morning to the post-house, 
 (probably the term hospital would now be given 
 to such an asylum,) to enquire after their state, 
 and to have the dead removed. His services ex- 
 tended to the inhabitants of the town; yet he 
 escaped the contagion, to the danger of which his 
 benevolence had exposed him. 
 
 In Youghall he was quartered at the house of 
 Francis and Dionisia Baker, and had opportunity 
 
80 ROBERT SANDHAM. 
 
 of becoming acquainted with their daughter 
 Deborah, and of discovering the excellence of her 
 character. She had, like himself, become dis- 
 satisfied with the outward observances in which 
 she had been strictly educated by honest, religious 
 parents, of the Puritan profession, and looked for 
 something beyond what she had yet experienced. 
 Robert Sandham sought this virtuous maiden in 
 marriage, and obtained her in the year 1652. 
 
 In the year 1655, Elizabeth Fletcher, a minis- 
 tering Friend from England, came to Youghall, 
 and preached in the streets there. Amongst 
 those who heard her, was Robert Sandham, who 
 was touched with her words; and when he went 
 home, told his wife he was convinced that the 
 doctrine she preached was truth, and he intended 
 to have some conversation with her at her lodg- 
 ings. His wife warned him against delusion, and 
 begged he would contend earnestly for the faith, 
 if he did go to converse with this stranger. He 
 went, and, at his return, expressed to his wife the 
 satisfaction the conference had afforded him ; 
 Elizabeth Fletcher's answers to his enquiries 
 being given in much meekness and moderation. 
 
 Till now, he had resided at Youghall; but a 
 piece of land having been given him, on his being 
 disbanded, (such was the remuneration for the 
 officers in Cromwell's army,) he removed thither. 
 The land lay near Fermoy, and was called Cur- 
 roughmore, where he lived seven years. One of 
 his neighbours was James Sicklemore, who had 
 
ROBERT SANDHAM. 81 
 
 joined the society of Friends, at whose house a 
 meeting was held. Robert Sandham accepted 
 his invitation to attend this meeting, and was 
 thereby further confirmed in his preference of 
 this society, and joined himself to them. His 
 wife did not unite with him in rehgious senti- 
 ments, and fears and doubts of delusion and de- 
 ceit troubled her mind. She had, before her 
 marriage, joined the Baptists. They were de- 
 sirous to retain her, and encouraged these fears 
 and doubts, probably from a good motive, believ- 
 ing their own to be the most acceptable mode of 
 worship. Deborah Sandham, therefore, kept 
 herself at a distance from Friends, and avoided 
 conversing with them. Her love to her husband 
 could not sway her in what respected a higher in- 
 terest; yet, willing to try all things, and hold fast 
 that which is good, she consented to accompany 
 him to some meetings ; and her heart was opened 
 to receive what she believed was truth, receiving 
 it in the love of it. Now, having chosen for her- 
 self, and depended on the opinion of no fellow- 
 mortal, she willingly conformed to the simplicity 
 required in the narrow path into which her feet 
 were turned. She became very singular in the 
 plainness of her dress, never resuming any thing 
 which she had once thought it right to lay aside. 
 
 This was a day of persecution: Robert Sand- 
 ham bore his part of the burden of the day. In 
 1661, he was imprisoned at Cork, for bearing his 
 E 3 
 
82 ROBERT SANDHAM. 
 
 testimony against swearing; and, for the fine of 
 five pounds, bad a horse taken from him, of more 
 than double that value. 
 
 Having sold his land, with intention of embark- 
 ing in trade, he considered whether he should 
 establish himself in Cork or Youghall. The 
 former place offered the best prospect for success 
 in business; faithful Friends belonged to that 
 meeting; and, on both these accounts, the situation 
 appeared desirable^ Youghall did not seem so 
 likely for prospering in worldly affairs. The 
 meeting was small, and weakened by the deser- 
 tion of a principal member. But worldly affairs 
 were to him only a secondary consideration; and 
 the belief that he might there be of most service, 
 in a religious capacity, determined him to settle 
 at Youghall, in the year 16G.2; and next year the 
 meeting began to be held at his house, on which 
 a persecuting spirit displayed itself; a sentinel 
 being placed at the door, to keep Friends out, 
 and the meetings broken in upon by soldiers, who 
 haled the men away to the guard-house; and 
 finding that the women continued the meeting, 
 they haled them away also. As this did not 
 prevent these religious assemblies, the governor 
 repeatedly commanded Robert Sandham to leave 
 the town, with his family, which he refused to 
 do; alleging his right, as a freeman of the town, 
 to remain there; and fully believing it was his 
 duty to abide in this place, and thus obey God 
 rather than man. 
 
ROBERT SANDHAM. SS 
 
 On his refusal to submit to a command so un- 
 just, the governor sent him away on foot, with a 
 guard of soldiers, twenty-four miles, to Char- 
 lev ille, to appear before the lord-president of 
 Munster, Roger Boyle, afterwards earl of Or- 
 rery. Robert Sandham was of a corpulent 
 habit, and not in his usual health ; he therefore 
 desired to ride his own horse. This the governor 
 refused; adding the cruel charge to his escort, 
 to draff him alongr if he did not walk as fast 
 as they would have him. Before he left the town, 
 he remonstrated with the governor, on the injus- 
 tice of his proceedings. He told him that he left 
 his wife and child behind him, and at his hands 
 he would require them: he told him that, if he 
 sunk beneath this treatment, his blood would be 
 upon his head. The governor was only moved 
 to increased wrath, by these solemn appeals ; and 
 the persecuted man departed on a painful journey, 
 enduring fatigue, which overheated him, and, in 
 that condition, obliged to wade through waters. 
 
 When the lord-president read the accusation 
 against him, and found him charged with nothing, 
 except v/hat concerned the law of his God, he imme- 
 diately discharged the guard, and set Robert Sand- 
 ham at liberty; telling him that he might return 
 to his family, for that he found him accused of 
 nothing that might prevent him from dwelling in 
 the town, so long as he behaved himself as an 
 honest man. He returned home with less suiFer- 
 ing from fatigue, having procured a horse, but 
 
84 ROBERT SANDHAM. 
 
 next day was unable to leave his bed. The gover- 
 nor, displeased at the favourable issue of this 
 affair, sent an order for Robert Sandham to ap- 
 pear before him ; and when informed of his situ- 
 ation, repeated his command, insisting that he 
 should be taken out of his bed, and brought to 
 him. This act of tyranny could not be executed, 
 for the small-pox made its appearance upon him ; 
 and at his time of life, in his habit of body, 
 along with previous excessive fatigue, the termi- 
 nation appeared likely to be fatal. This himself 
 and all his family expected, and they heard Tho- 
 mas Loe express his belief of his recovery with 
 incredulity. He did recover, and continued to 
 bear, with firmness, reproaches and sufferings, and 
 resolutely to oppose the more distressing attacks 
 of false brethren; being valiant in asserting the 
 truths in which he believed, though not called to 
 advocate them by public ministry. He was wil- 
 ling to serve all, of every denomination of people, 
 by every means in his power. His life and con- 
 versation were consonant with the profession which 
 he made; he was consequently upright in his 
 dealings, r.nd sometimes said, if he left his chil- 
 dren a small penny, it was sound, and he hoped 
 the Lord would bless it to them. 
 
 In his wife he had a faithful helpmeet, who 
 shared and alleviated his suiierings, by her sym- 
 pathy and tenderness. She wrote to the recorder 
 of the town, who had fined her husband for re- 
 fusing to swear ; pleading with him, and warning 
 
ROBERT SANDHAM. 85 
 
 him against persecuting the innocent, and op- 
 pressing the tender conscience. She was a minis- 
 ter, and went into the pubUc worship-house at 
 Youghall, and also into the meeting-house of the 
 Independents ; admonishing both, not to depend 
 on words and outward ceremonies. Thus, uniting 
 in every good word and work, and bound in the 
 tender and holy bands of mutual affection, this 
 virtuous pair walked steadily together for twenty- 
 four years; and then the separation came, grievous 
 to the survivor. 
 
 Robert Sandham was seized with a distemper, 
 which proved mortal. He desired his wife to give 
 him up, and bear his death with patience. The 
 Lord would, he said, be near to her, and make 
 up the loss of him. He charged his children to 
 love and obey their mother, who would take care 
 of them, and to love one another. He acknow- 
 ledged the goodness of the Lord to him ; he took 
 a solemn farewell of his family and friends; he 
 exhorted all to faithfulness ; and, retaining his 
 senses to the last, (which was his desire in health 
 and in sickness,) his spirit was released from the 
 fetters of mortality, the 28th of 8th month, 1675, 
 aged 55. 
 
 Deborah Sandham justified her husband's con- 
 fidence in her care of their children, three daugh- 
 ters ; to whom she was a tender mother, watchful 
 over them for good. She led an exemplary, self- 
 denying life, and was much esteemed in the town 
 
66 ROBERT SANDHAM. 
 
 where she Hved; compassionate to the poorj 
 assisting them according to her abihty, and en- 
 couraging others to do so Hkewise: careful to 
 govern her own house well, therefore qualified to 
 visit Friends' families; a comforter of the sick, and 
 a strengthener of the dejected in mind. 
 
 In 1688, she paid a religious visit to some parts 
 of England, and, on her return, was in imminent 
 danger of shipwreck; the vessel in which she 
 sailed, encountering more than one storm. The 
 ship put into Haverfordwest, from whence she 
 wrote to her children; relating to them her de- 
 sires for their preservation, when she thought it 
 was likely she should have never seen them again; 
 and for their support, under the trial of losing her 
 in such a manner; and for the people in the ship, 
 who seemed unfit to die. Her own life she resigned 
 to the will of her Maker, having, in that awful 
 time, a peaceful conscience. The sea still rolled 
 between her and her children, and the uncertainty 
 of their meeting, in this world, continued. She 
 exhorted them to love one another " with a true 
 and entire love;" — to he patient in all things, and to 
 look to the Lord, over and through all. This 
 letter, besides her excellent counsel, contained 
 directions for the disposal of her property; 
 "which," she says " is not much ; for the bless- 
 ing of the Lord was my choicest treasure, which 
 has been wonderful to me, in aiFording such 
 plenty out of so little a stock." She returned 
 safely, to the joy of her family and friends; and 
 
Robert sandham. Snf 
 
 when the civil war was kindled in this nation, she 
 did not remove to England, as many had done; 
 but believed she ought to stay at home, bear her 
 allotted share of the national calamity, and endea- 
 vour to comfort, assist, and strengthen others. 
 
 In 1693, she visited the north of Ireland, and 
 afterwards spent most of her time in her own 
 vicinity. When sickness came on, she was not 
 found unprepared and having her day's work to 
 do ; but, calm in her mind, and resigned to live 
 or die, her love expanded, not only in sweet ex- 
 hortations to her children, relations, and friends, 
 who were near her, and to her dear friends in 
 Cork ; but she remembered those in England, and 
 desired to be mentioned to them. Her Hfe she 
 said was hid with Christ in God ; and uttering the 
 triumphant expression: " O death, where is thy 
 sting? O grave, where is thy victory?" prayer and 
 praises flowing from her dying lips, and the approach 
 of her release seeming slow, she said: '^How long, 
 O Lord, ere I am where the wicked cease from 
 troubling, and the weary are at rest?" She took 
 a tender and solemn leave of her family ; and one 
 of her friends being engaged in supphcation by 
 her bed-side, she was comforted by it, lay quiet, 
 and, after awhile, turning herself in the bed, said: 
 " I am now going to leave you." And then sweetly, 
 and in great peace, departed this hfe, the 1 5th 
 of 5th month, 1695, in the sixty-second year of 
 
8S ROBERT SANDHAM. 
 
 Blessing, the daughter of Robert and Deborah 
 Sandham, born in 1G62, married, in 1688, Wil- 
 liam, the eldest son of John and Mary Fennel, of 
 Killicomonbeg, county of Tipperary, who, having 
 joined the society of Friends, and being service- 
 able in their day, gave their son an education con- 
 formable to that which the young woman of his 
 choice had received; and their union was pro- 
 ductive of much happiness to themselves, and 
 usefulness to others. They were honourable in 
 their dealings; and enabled, by moderation in 
 their own living, to alleviate the distresses of 
 others, and to exercise hospitality. 
 
 In the year 1724, WiUiam Fennel died, aged 
 seventy-three. On his death-bed he expressed 
 his thankfulness for the many favours he had re- 
 ceived ; especially the blessing of a tender, loving, 
 faithful wife, and dutiful children. His wife sur- 
 vived him ten years. She appeared as a minister, 
 the latter part of her life, and was zealous in re- 
 commending, watchfulness and circumspection. 
 She died in great peace, in 1735, aged seventy- 
 three. In 1704, at the age of twelve, their pious 
 child, William Fennel, departed this life; of whose 
 happy death there is a record in the fourth part 
 of " Piety Promoted." 
 
 Deborah, daughter of Robert and Deborah 
 Sandham, born in 1668, married, in 1691, John 
 Elly, whose father had fallen in the battle between 
 
ROBERT SANDHAM. 89 
 
 the king's and parliament's armies, at Worcester, 
 and who had accompanied his widowed mother to 
 Ireland, where he joined the society of Friends, 
 and settled at New Ross, county of Wexford. 
 Deborah was his second wife. She bore him 
 twelve children; and, after living together forty- 
 two years, this virtuous and exemplary couple 
 were separated, by the death of John Elly, in 
 1733. A meeting was held at their house, and 
 continued there through the life of their worthy 
 son, the late Samuel Elly; and afterwards, till 
 1789, when it was removed to the meeting-house 
 built in the town. 
 
 'In 1737, Deborah Elly died; and the monthly 
 meeting of the county of Wexford gave forth the 
 following testimony concerning her : 
 
 " She was a woman exemplary in her conver- 
 sation, as well in her family, as amongst her neigh- 
 bours; by whom she was generally v/ell-beloved^ 
 and died much lamented. She had a word of 
 exhortation in meetings, tending to stir up Friends 
 to their duty; and her hfe and conversation were 
 agreeable thereto. She was careful in training 
 up her children in a rel gious education, as well 
 as in plainness of speech and habit ; and we may 
 say we have no small share in the loss of her; 
 being religiously concerned for the prosperity of 
 truth, and that comely order might be maintained 
 in the discipline." 
 
90 ROBERT SANDHAM. 
 
 Elizabeth, daughter of Robert and Deborah 
 Sandham, was the wife of Gabriel Clarke, of 
 Youghall, who, in a MS. bears testimony to her 
 exemplary and useful life, her wise conduct in 
 spiritual and temporal concerns, her dutiful de- 
 portment as a child, her affection as a wife, and 
 tenderness as a mother; and he adds, "much 
 might be truly said of her, both as a woman and 
 as a Christian, in which she excelled many of her 
 sex." 
 
 She was afflicted with a lingering illness for 
 some months; enduring, part of the time, great 
 pain of body, and anxiety of mind, from doubts and 
 fears, on account of her immortal soul. Nor could 
 the encouragement of her friends avail, till she felt 
 in herself the evidence of Divine mercy, which she 
 sometimes expressed, and poured forth her spirit 
 in prayer. From this illness she recovered, con- 
 trary to expectation, and lived for several years 
 longer. She also recovered from the dangerous 
 accident of breaking her leg, by a fall from her 
 horse, which confined her at a friend's house for 
 a considerable time. Her patience under suffer- 
 ing was great, and, in her last attack of indisposi- 
 tion, she was tried with great weakness of body; 
 but she was supported in this last trial, and died 
 in peace, after an illness of four months, in the 
 ye^r 1713. 
 
 From " Rutty's Rise and Progress of the People called 
 Quakers," from " Pietj Promoted," and from MSS. 
 
91 
 
 WILLIAM MORRIS. 
 
 William Morris was a man in high estimation 
 on many accounts. He was an elder among the 
 Baptists, captain of a company, a justice of peace^ 
 commissioner of the revenue, and chief governor of 
 three garrisons. Hearing of the abuse which 
 Wilham Edmundson suffered at Belturbet, where 
 he was imprisoned and put in the stocks *, he ex- 
 pressed his sorrow and indignation in such strong 
 terms, that the rumour of Captain Morris having 
 joined the Quakers, spread among the Baptists, 
 and reached the court at Dublin: he was, in con- 
 sequence, removed with his company southward. 
 The suspicions concerning him continuing, he was 
 sent for to Dublin, and examined before the 
 general and principal officers, many of whom were 
 Baptists. In this examination their suspicions 
 were verified, of his having adopted the principles 
 of Quakers, by his own acknowledgment, and he 
 was discharged from his command. 
 
 He possessed considerable abilities, and though 
 several times a prisoner himself, was, on many oc- 
 casions, serviceable to his suffering friends, by his 
 application to the government on their behalf. 
 He also wrote in defence of the principles which 
 he professed. He died at Castlesalem, in the 
 county of Cork, in the year 1680. 
 
 •• See page f?, . 
 
9g 
 
 ROBERT CUPPAGE. 
 
 Robert Cuppage, of Lambstown, in the county of 
 Wexford, was convinced of the blessed truth. 
 He was of a very good conversation, whose hght 
 did shine both at home and abroad, an example 
 indeed to the reaching of many. He loved truth, 
 and had a sound testimony for it, and lived in it, 
 as well as preached it to others : he was of a ten- 
 der spirit and lowly mind, and laid down his head 
 in peace, in Lambstown, the 15th of the 7th 
 month, 1683. 
 
 (Extracted from Records.) 
 
 THOMAS CARLETON. 
 
 Thomas Carleton was born in the year 1636, at 
 Little Salkeld in Cumberland. His father was a 
 farmer, and himself much employed in the labour 
 of that mode of life; yet he was sent to school, and 
 seems to have possessed a well-cultivated mind. 
 He became anxiously concerned for his eternal 
 welfare, and his health was impaired by the con- 
 flicts of his mind. At length he united himself to 
 the society of Friends, and after some time was 
 a preacher among them. He had not long made 
 
THOMAS CARLETON. 93 
 
 this profession, till the clergyman of the parish in 
 which he lived, proceeding against him for the re- 
 covery of tithes, threw him into prison, in the year 
 1663, where he was confined several years, till the 
 death of his persecutor : even then the widow re- 
 luctantly set him at liberty. He went on foot to 
 London, (two hundred miles,) to obtain the benefit 
 of the Habeas Corpus Act. 
 
 In 1669 he married Isabel Mark, of Mosedale; 
 and about 1674 removed to Ireland, and settled at 
 Ballinacarrick, county of Wicklow. 
 
 The character given of him by his contempora- 
 ries, bespeaks him to have been a man " endowed 
 with a large and clear understanding, both in di- 
 vino and spiritual things, and also natural parts 
 beyond many, which did very much adorn him ; 
 and so much the more, in that he did not think so 
 of himself." Also that his ministry v/as sound and 
 pov/erful, entered upon with holy awe, and de- 
 Uvered with meekness. " And indeed," thus tes- 
 tifies his friend Thomas TrafFord, " all his parts 
 and gifts were sanctified unto him; for he was a 
 man of a sweet temper, mild in controverting things, 
 and could govern his spirit with gravity, either 
 with such as did oppose truth, and contend against 
 it, or at other times in church discipline, or with 
 unruly spirits that he might have to do with." 
 Though his deportment and conversation were 
 mild, courteous, and humble, he was steadfast in 
 defending the cause of righteousness. The hard- 
 ships of imprisonment, combining with a delicate 
 
94} THOMAS CARLETON. 
 
 constitution, brought on infirmities which termi- 
 nated his life in middle age. Of his happy con- 
 clusion, thus his friend George Rooke bears tes- 
 timony: 
 
 "When I, with some other friends, went to see 
 him, we had a meeting at his house at Ballinacar- 
 rick, in the county of Wicklow, on the first day 
 before he departed this life, being the 1 6th day of 
 the 9th month, 1684, where he sat up in meeting 
 all the time, and we had a heavenly season, and 
 the Lord's refreshing presence was with us ; which 
 he having a sense of, did often express his great 
 joy and satisfaction therein, and in tho enjoyment 
 of Friends' company, and said he could wish, if it 
 were the will of God, that he might be taken away 
 when we were there : so I, with some other friends, 
 staid all night, and lodged in the chamber where 
 he lay, and he was very quiet, and patiently bore 
 his affliction. 
 
 " The next morning, one of his servants coming 
 to him, asked him how he did: his answer was to 
 her, naming her by her name: ' Thou hast had 
 much trouble in attending on me, but nov/ the 
 time is short that I have to stay.' His servant 
 being reached with his words, began to weep. 
 He said: * I know there will be mourning for me, 
 but, blessed be God, it is not as those that have no 
 hope.' For he knew that hope which was ground- 
 ed upon the foundation of the prophets and apos- 
 tles, Jesus Christ being the chief corner-stone j 
 
THOMAS CARLETON. 95 
 
 the same that all the faithful did bear witness to in 
 former ages. 
 
 " Three of his children being brought to him, 
 he called to them by their names, saying: ' Dear 
 babes, I am glad to see you ;' expressing it with 
 much joy and gladness, advising them to live in 
 the fear of the Lord, and to be good children, and 
 to keep amongst Friends, and said: * I have not 
 much gold and silver to leave you, but I hope the 
 blessing of the Lord will attend you.' And so, 
 kissing and embracing them, he took leave of them. 
 His dear wife coming to him weeping, he said to 
 her: ' Weep not, thy care and tenderness hath 
 been much over me ;' and often seemed to lament 
 and pity his dear wife, that had been a true help- 
 meet unto him, from the time of their first coming 
 together unto that day, in his exercises and weak- 
 ness, which were not a few. 
 
 *' And so, after he had taken his leave of those 
 about him, in less than half an hour was taken 
 away, with little or no pain, being the 18th day of 
 the aforesaid 9th month, 1684. 
 
 " Thus they are blessed that die in the Lord: 
 from henceforth they rest from their labours, and 
 their works follow them, where the voice of the 
 oppressor is no more heard; the wicked cease 
 from troubling, and the weary are at rest. 
 
 " GEORGE ROOKE." 
 
 See Rutty, and Testimonj; and his Life, prefixed to 
 "The Captive's Complaint; or, Prisoner's Plea. Written by 
 Thomas Carleton." 
 
m 
 
 GEORGE GREGSON. 
 
 GrEORGE Gregson was bom in Lancashire, of pa- 
 rents belonging to the Romish church, who edu- 
 cated him in their own reUgious behef. On his 
 joining the rehgious society of Friends, he had to 
 endure false and malicious reports, raised by envy 
 and resentment ; but encountering them with pa- 
 tience and fortitude, he obtained a victory over 
 those attacks, and the integrity of his character 
 was established. 
 
 He was a public preacher, and travelled in Eng- 
 land and Ireland, partaking with Friends in their 
 sufferings. He had a good understanding, and a 
 clear, agreeable manner of expressing himself on 
 religious subjects. It does not appear at what 
 time he came to reside in the town of Lisburn in 
 Ireland, (then called Lisnigaroy,) whether he had 
 any family, or what was his age at the time of his 
 decease, which was in the year 1690 ; but it is re- 
 corded of him, that he retained his love to God 
 and his brethren, to the last period of his life; that 
 he attained to old age, and bequeathed a consider- 
 able part of his property to several meetings in 
 Ireland, and to Friends in Lancashire, 
 
97 
 
 JOHN BURNYEAT. 
 
 John Burnyeat was born in Cumberland, in the 
 year 1631. In the time of his youth, different 
 sects, each making high religious professions, 
 caused considerable agitation in serious minds. 
 Of this he partook with others, and while they 
 sought to have their doubts satisfied, George Fox 
 came into Cumberland, in the year 1653. The 
 glad tidings of the gospel which he preached, 
 were received by them with joy; and becoming 
 united to him in their spirits, they followed his ex- 
 ample, in separating themselves from other profes- 
 sors of religion, and met together in silence, to 
 worship Him whose favour alone they sought, re- 
 gardless of the revilings of their fellow-creatures. 
 Of this time, John Burnyeat writes: *^Oh! the 
 joy, the pleasure, and the great delight that over- 
 came our hearts, many times, in our reverent and 
 holy assembhes ! How were our hearts melted as 
 wax, and our souls poured forth as water before 
 the Lord ; and our spirits as oil, frankincense, and 
 myrrh, offered up unto the Lord as sweet incense, 
 when not a word outwardly in all our assembly has 
 been uttered." He adds: "Thus I continued for 
 four years, mostly following my outward calling, 
 and attending and waiting upon the Lord in the 
 workings of his holy power in my heart, both in 
 meetings and at other times, wherever I was, or 
 
 F 
 
98 JOHN BURNYEAT. 
 
 whatever I had to do ; for I found, that as my 
 heart was kept near the power, it kept me tender, 
 soft, and Uving. And besides, I found, as I was di- 
 hgent in eying of it, there was a constant, sweet 
 stream, that run softly in my soul, of divine peace, 
 pleasure, and joy, which far exceeded all other de- 
 lights and satisfactions ; and this became the great 
 engager of my soul, to watch with such diligence, 
 for I did find the love of God to constrain. And, 
 furthermore, I did observe, that if I neglected, or 
 let my mind out after any thing else, more than I 
 ought, and so forgot this, I began to be like a 
 stranger, and saw that I soon might lose my in- 
 terest in these riches and treasure, and true com- 
 monwealth of God's spiritual Israel, which Christ 
 had purchased for me, and given me the earnest 
 to inherit." 
 
 The establishment of church-discipline was now 
 a general concern of this new society, and John 
 Burnyeat took a share in it. But, after some time, 
 a more arduous task was assigned to him, and the 
 state of his mind he thus describes : " When the 
 word of the Lord came unto me with this message, 
 it became a great exercise unto me, and I would 
 willingly have shunned it, and have dwelt in the 
 ease, peace, and pleasure, the Lord had brought 
 me into ; but there was none but in obeying the 
 Lord, and giving up to do his will : that I soon 
 came to know, for I was sure it was the word of 
 the Lord ; and then I yielded in spirit, and longed 
 for the day that I might clear myself, and be eased 
 
JOHN BURNYEAT. 99 
 
 of the charge that was upon me; for weighty was 
 the dread and majesty of the power of the word of 
 Hfe, that Uved, and, as a fire, burned in my heart, 
 that I could not stay." 
 
 In obedience to the service required of him, he 
 went to Aspetry, to speak to a clergyman named 
 Warwick, who was preaching in his place of wor- 
 ship. This person assailed John and the Friend 
 who accompanied him with questions, to which 
 they forbore to reply. He then desired the con- 
 stable to put them out, which he refused to do, 
 saying: "They do not disturb us." When the 
 clergyman had done, John Burnyeat began to 
 speak to the people: they followed their pastor, 
 who withdrew, and from whom John, hurried 
 along with the crowd, was separated. He hoped 
 his business was done, and was about to return 
 home ; but before he left the town, his conscience 
 smote him with this denunciation: "Cursed is he 
 that doth the work of the Lord negligently ;" and 
 he was then sensible, that, through fear of a prison, 
 he had shunned the person for whom the message 
 was intended; the law then threatening with im- 
 prisonment those who disturbed a clergyman. 
 Convinced of being disobedient, his distress was 
 exceedingly great; and, preferring peace and for- 
 giveness to any other consideration, he felt the 
 command renewed, and willingly obeyed it. He 
 returned that afternoon, and stood before the 
 clergyman, who was preaching, till he had done, 
 F 2 
 
100 JOHN BURNYEAT. 
 
 and then spoke the words given to him ; now va- 
 luing neither life nor liberty, in comparison with 
 the peace which results from the fulfilment of duty. 
 After which he addressed the people, and left 
 them, joy fid in his heart that he had performed 
 what was required of him. 
 
 He was engaged in a like manner some time 
 after, in another worship-house, which the clergy- 
 man resented highly, threatening him with the 
 stocks, and where he was beaten and thrust out. 
 Yet, in two weeks, he appeared at the same place, 
 and the clergyman desired he should be permitted 
 to remain till he was at leisure to speak to him; 
 yet, when he saw that John Burnyeat did not un- 
 cover his head when the prayers were about to be 
 read, liis moderation gave place to unseasonable 
 anger, and he called out to have him taken away. 
 John's father was present, and being much dis- 
 pleased with his son, haled him out himself. 
 Again, going to another place for the same pur- 
 pose, after much abuse he was made a prisoner, 
 and confined in the common jail in Carlisle twenty- 
 three weeks. On his enlargement, in the year 
 1658, he took his first journey as a public minis- 
 ter, and spent three months in this service in Scot- 
 land; where, besides visiting the few meetings of 
 Friends there, he was engaged in places of pubHc 
 resort, to exhort those assembled. 
 
 The following year he went into Ireland, and 
 after some months' travel there, he met with Ro- 
 bert Lodge, who was under a like concern. They 
 
JOHN BURNYEAT. 101 
 
 united in this work, and continued for a year thus 
 engaged, undergoing fatigue, cold, and hunger, in 
 places almost uninhabited, and severe treatment 
 from those whom their doctrine offended ; and on 
 this account they were several times imprisoned. 
 They sometimes separated, on account of the ser- 
 vice which they were divinely commissioned to per- 
 form, meeting again to their mutual satisJ[action; 
 for John Burnyeat bears this testimony: "The 
 Lord gave us sv/eet concord and peace in all our 
 travels." After his returii; he was diUgent in at- 
 tending meetings at home ; and when he found it 
 required of him to go to distant meetings, he made 
 no unnecessary delay there, but came back, and 
 applied himself to his occupation. 
 
 In 1662 he went to London, and acquainted 
 George Fox and others of the elders, with a con- 
 cern which had rested on his mind for some years, 
 to pay a religious visit to America; and having 
 thus submitted to this impression of duty, he felt 
 peaceful, and quietly waited to know the time of 
 his going. On his way home he visited some cf 
 his friends, who were prisoners at Rippon ; and 
 while he preached the gospel to them, he was in- 
 terrupted by the jailer, who took him before som« 
 of the chief persons in that town, and the principal 
 magistrate accused him of visiting his friends in 
 prison. John Burnyeat pleaded, that in so doing 
 he had broken no law. He was then accused of 
 having spoken in the prison, to which he answered, 
 That there was no law which forbade speaking 
 
10^ JOHN BURNYEAT. 
 
 to our friends when we came to visit them. His 
 opponent put some more questions to him, and at 
 last enquired whether he would take the oath of 
 allegiance and supremacy. Those who were de- 
 termined on persecution, generally made this oath 
 a pretext for it, knowing that Friends would not 
 disobey the command of Christ: "Swear not at 
 all." Therefore, this point being gained, a mitti- 
 mus was drawn, and John Burnyeat sent to suffer 
 imprisonment with the Friends whom he had 
 visited, of whom there were four-and-twenty, before 
 he joined them. In the religious meetings which 
 they held, his voice, raised in testimony, offended 
 the magistrates and others who came to amuse 
 themselves at a bowling-green before the prison- 
 door ; and he was, at three several times, when in 
 the act of prayer, dragged out, and confined in the 
 dungeon, a small, dark room: at one time for two 
 days and two nights, at another time three, and 
 the third time seven. At the expiration of four- 
 teen weeks, he was set at liberty. 
 
 In the year 1664, he took his voyage to Barba- 
 does, where he staid three or four months. Here 
 he met with some who were deluded by John Fer- 
 rott, and with his pretended zeal against forms. 
 The consequences were, neglect in the attendance 
 of religious meetings, and many deviations from 
 the estabhshed order of the society ; leading into a 
 liberty which encouraged them to pursue their own 
 will, and reject that self-denial, and those testimonies, 
 which friends were convinced it was their duty to 
 
JOHN BURNYEAT. 103 
 
 practise and maintain. To withstand those who 
 were obstinate in error, and to recover those 
 whose simpUcity had been betrayed, occupied 
 much of his time, and called for his exertions, both 
 in this island and on the American continent. He 
 came back to England in 1667, and was much en- 
 gaged in visiting meetings there and in Ireland; 
 till, in 1670, he sailed again for Barbadoes, accom- 
 panied by William Simpson, whose integrity and 
 innocence, with his sufferings for the cause pre- 
 cious to them both, and the openness of confiden- 
 tial friendship, endeared him much to his fellow- 
 labourer. Of this dear friend he was deprived by 
 a violent fever, prevalent at that time in Barbadoes, 
 which carried him off in six days. And deeply 
 did John Burnyeat feel this loss, and his own 
 lonely situation ; but He, to whose service he was 
 devoted, was a present help in the needful time, 
 and enabled him to proceed in his mission. After 
 six months' stay on the island, he went again to 
 the continent, where, at Oyster-bay general meet- 
 ing, he encountered opposition to the discipline, as 
 well as censures on George Fox. Those censures 
 he heard with patience, and answered with wis- 
 dom, satisfying many who had by cavillers been 
 unsettled in their minds. He had also the gratifi- 
 cation of finding many of those in Virginia, who 
 had been led astray by John Perrott, (as appear- 
 ed in his former visit to them,) redeemed, in a 
 good degree, from those errors. After having 
 recommended the establishment of meetings of 
 
104 JOHN BURNYEAT. 
 
 discipline to them, he proceeded to Maryland, and 
 after some time spent there, appointed a meeting 
 for all the Friends in the province, which he in- 
 tended as a farewell visit to them. When the 
 time appointed was come, and Friends began to 
 assemble, the unexpected appearance of George 
 Fox caused surprise and joy. He was accompa- 
 nied by some Friends. The meeting held for 
 several days. The establishment of meetings of 
 discipline throughout the province was accomplish- 
 ed ; Friends were sensible of the value and neces- 
 sity of good order ; and separated to return to their 
 homes, or proceed on their journey in the har- 
 mony of Christian fellowship. 
 
 John Burnyeat, with some other Friends, ac- 
 companied George Fox from this, overland, to 
 New England, attended by an Indian guide. 
 Their journey was tedious, toilsome, and danger- 
 ous, through a wild country, where none of their 
 countrymen dwelt at that time. The Indians were 
 kind and helpful them, and one night they were 
 received by an Indian king, who showed them 
 such hospitality as lay in his power. His provi- 
 sions being exhausted, he could not supply them 
 with food ; but lodged them, as he was lodged him- 
 self, on a mat spread on the ground, with a piece 
 of wood for a pillow. Sometimes the woods af- 
 forded them lodging. After overcoming those 
 difficulties, they had others to engage with of a 
 more trying nature, at the half-year's meeting 
 at Oyster-bay; where, after the business of the 
 
JOHN BURNYEAT. 105 
 
 meeting was ended, (which George Fox would 
 not allow any matter relating to himself to inter- 
 rupt,) the dissatisfied people were assembled, and 
 the principal of those seeing George Fox there in 
 person, was desirous to disown his former pro- 
 ceedings, to throw the blame upon others, and 
 appear clear to George Fox; but this it was not 
 in his power to do, and the meeting ended to sa- 
 tisfaction. 
 
 After this, a general meeting was attended at 
 Rhode Island, where eight sittings succeeded one 
 another, and the affairs of the discipline were re- 
 gulated. Here John Burnyeat parted from 
 George Fox, and, accompanied by John Cart- 
 wright and George Fattison from Europe, travel- 
 led into other parts of the country, where they 
 met with various treatment; sometimes heard with 
 kind regard, and at other times opposed by that 
 spirit of persecution which was raised against 
 Friends in New England, to which some had 
 fallen victims by the hand of the executioner, and 
 many had suffered deeply in person and pro- 
 perty. Amongst other instances of cruelty, was 
 that of banishing out of the colony, from his wife 
 and family, Nicholas Upshall, an old man, on 
 no other pretence but his profession of a Quaker. 
 Upon which an Indian king expressed his sur- 
 prise, enquiring why they sent that aged man, 
 in the cold winter, sixty miles through the woods? 
 inviting the exile to go with him, where no one 
 F 3 
 
106 JOHN BURN YE AT. 
 
 should molest him, and offering him land and friend- 
 ship. John Burnyeat and his friends were desir- 
 ous that meetings for discipline should be esta- 
 blished there, and their endeavours were at length 
 successful, though at that time they found some 
 opposition. They returned to Rhode Island, 
 joined William Edmundson, and were present at 
 the dispute with Roger Williams, wherein he was 
 foiled, with his fourteen charges against Friends, 
 which he called propositions. They had disputes 
 with elders and teachers of the Presbyterian 
 church, who seemed disposed to have them im- 
 prisoned ; but the moderation and good sense of 
 the magistrates prevented this outrage. 
 
 In company with George Fox, John Burnyeat 
 visited an Indian emperor, who had assembled the 
 old and grave persons at his wig-wam. George 
 Fox spoke to them, by an interpreter, for nearly 
 five hours, and was heard by them with respectful 
 attention and evident satisfaction. John returned 
 to Ireland in 1673, where he visited most of the 
 meetings of Friends, before he went to his home in 
 Cumberland; where his stay was but short, ere he 
 again went out to perform like services in parts of 
 England and Wales, and to vmite with several 
 Friends in hearing and giving judgment on those 
 who' had separated themselves from, and opposed 
 the good order of the body of Friends. 
 
 John Burnyeat appears, by extracts of letters 
 subjoined to his journal, which concludes in 1676, 
 to have settled in Ireland in the year 168^. In 
 
JOHN BURNYEAT. 107 
 
 1683 he married Elizabeth Maine, widow of Wil- 
 liam Maine, who was daughter of Peter and Jane 
 Mason, of Cumberland. The acquisition of such 
 a man to the meeting of Dublin, and to Ireland in 
 general, was greatly prized ; and thus his friends 
 expressed themselves: "It was the unspeakable 
 love and mercy of God, to us in this nation, and 
 particularly the city of Dubhn, to order his out- 
 ward abode and settlement amongst us." Also : 
 " His conversation was so heavenly, and becoming 
 the principle of truth he was a preacher of, that 
 we know no one that can truly charge him with 
 any thing that might spot his profession or minis- 
 try." He was an able minister of the gospel, 
 highly esteemed, and greatly beloved: he was 
 meek, humble, and compassionate: the sick and 
 the sorrowful partook of his sympathy, and the 
 poor of his bounty. A meek and gentle messen- 
 ger of the gospel of peace, he promoted reconcili- 
 ations. And it is also noted of him: ''In all his 
 travels, into whose house he entered, he was con- 
 tent with what things were set before him, v/ere 
 they never so mean; which was great satisfaction 
 to many honest, poor Friends, amongst whom his 
 lot was cast." 
 
 In 1683, he was one of those who were imprison- 
 ed in the Marshalsea, on account of continuing to 
 hold their meetings after a command to disperse 
 them; and being taken before a magistrate, who 
 who enquired why they had disobeyed the order, 
 John replied, that he beUeved it to be their indis- 
 
108 JOHN BURNYEAT. 
 
 pensable duty to meet together to worship God* 
 " You may be misled," said the magistrate. John 
 told him, if they were misled they were willing to 
 be informed ; but when it was urged that other 
 dissenters had submitted, and why would not they? 
 he answered : " What they do, will be no plea for 
 us before the judgment seat of the great God," 
 They were committed to prison on this refusal. 
 Anthony Sharp was one of his fellow-prisoners. 
 After a confinement of two months, they were set 
 at liberty by an order from the earl of Arran, 
 then lord Deputy, who expressed his regard for 
 Friends, and his belief in their sincerity. John 
 Burnyeat employed his liberty in travelling, on a 
 religious account, amongst his friends in this na- 
 tion, England, and Scotland. 
 
 In 1688 he lost his beloved wife, with whom he 
 had spent some years in true domestic comfort, 
 and of whom her husband gives this account: 
 " Her nature was good, kind, and courteous ; she 
 was merciful, very considerate, and of a good un- 
 derstanding. She will be greatly missed in this 
 place, for Friends had a good love and esteem for 
 her ; and I have experience, and know, that many 
 who seemingly might exceed in appearance, will 
 come far behind." He had one son, whom he sent 
 into England, intending to follow, and spend his 
 remaining days in his native land; but perceiving 
 the approach of national calamities, he found most 
 peace in his mind in giving himself up to remain 
 where he was, to bear his part in the troubles of 
 
JOHN BURN YE AT. 109 
 
 his friends, and, as far as lay in his power, encou- 
 rage and support them under their distresses. 
 This he was enabled to do : the benevolence of his 
 natural temper, joined to courage and perseve- 
 rance, pecuharly fitted him for it. Twice, during 
 those days of peril, he visited the meetings of 
 Friends in the provinces of Leinster and Munster ; 
 and when it was practicable to travel to Ulster, 
 went thither also, on the same good errand. Soon 
 after his return from this northern journey, he at- 
 tended a province meeting at Rosenallis. It is not 
 certain whether at this or another province meet- 
 ing in this year, he delivered this prophetic warn- 
 ing to his friends: " It is now a time of great 
 trial to you, in losing your substance ; but the time 
 will come, when you will be as greatly tried with 
 getting wealth." This was soon verified : many re- 
 ceiving this gift as a trust, with humility, enjoyed 
 and diffused it, and it became a blessing to them- 
 selves and others ; while there were those to whom 
 it became a snare, and a means of depriving them 
 of that peace which it could not bring. 
 
 From RosenaUis he proceeded to Mountrath 
 and Ballinakill, and to the monthly meeting of 
 New Garden, from whence he came with John 
 Watson to his house at Kilconner ; where, finding 
 himself indisposed, he took to his bed. His illness 
 proved to be a fever, throughout which he was 
 favoured with the use of his senses, and often said 
 he was at ease, and quiet in his spirit ; and to his 
 friend, John Watson, said that he had ever loved 
 
110 ELIZABETH WIITDDGN. 
 
 the Lord, that the Lord had loved him from his 
 youth, and that he felt his love. After an illness 
 of twelve days, on the 11th of 7th month, 1690, he 
 quietly and peaceably departed this life, in the 59th 
 year of his age. 
 
 From John Burnveat's Journal and Letters. 
 
 ELIZABETH WHIDDON. 
 
 Elizabeth, daughter of Richard Pike, was of 
 exemplary conduct from her early youth. She 
 married Henry Whiddon, of Cork. Though by 
 nature diffident, she submitted to the requirings 
 of duty, and became a minister; finding that 
 her peace of mind consisted in her obedience to 
 the command of Him whom, in sincerity of heart, 
 she desired to obey. 
 
 When she lay upon her death-bed, one morn- 
 ing, her brother, Joseph Pike, enquiring after 
 her state of health, she said : " Oh, dear brother, 
 though I have not slept all this night, yet I am 
 as one that wants it not; though my body is ex- 
 traordinary weak, yet am I strong, the power of 
 the Lord carrying me over all weakness. But, 
 above all, the Lord said this night to mCj (in the 
 
ABRAHAM FULLER. Ill 
 
 powerful and fresh openings of life,) * Thou shalt 
 praise me in the heavens;' which hath so over- 
 come my soul and raised my spirits, that I am as 
 one that wants no sleep, or sensible of pain or 
 weakness." Enquiring of her sister why she wept, 
 she consoled her with this assurance: " Oh, I shall 
 go to everlasting joy and felicity, where I shall 
 be at rest." 
 
 She departed this life, 5th month, 1 G93. 
 
 From " Piety Promoted," third part. 
 
 ABRAHAM FULLER. 
 
 Abraham Fuller was born in the city of Am- 
 sterdam, in the year 1622, He married in Eng- 
 land, Mary, the daughter of Joshua Warren, of 
 Colchester; and, in the year 1651, came into Ire- 
 land, as (so says the ancient record) a planter. 
 It is noted of him, that he had not any of his chil- 
 dren sprinkled, several of whom were born before 
 he became one of the people called Quakers; 
 " well knowing that it was an ordinance of man, 
 and brought in since the apostasy : the sprinkling 
 of infants not being mentioned by Christ or his 
 apostles." 
 
l\2 RICHARD POOLE. 
 
 In the forty-first year of his age he united him- 
 self to the society of Friends, of which he was a 
 vahiable member; supporting the testimonies 
 which they are called upon to bear, open-hearted 
 to his friends, liberal in imparting relief to those 
 who needed it, and useful to the community at 
 large. His residence was Lehinsey, in the King's 
 County. 
 
 In his last illness he was often engaged in re- 
 turning thanks to the Lord, for the mercies which 
 he had received at his hand; and prayed for the 
 preservation of his children, to whom he gave 
 counsel suited to their several dispositions; ex- 
 pressing his willingness to die, if the Lord had no 
 further service for him to do; desirous that he 
 might be preserved in his senses to the last, and 
 craving an easy passage. These favours were 
 granted to him ; and he quietly expired, at the 
 house of his son Isaac, at Lismoine, in the 10th 
 month, lG94j aged seventy- two. 
 
 See " Piety Promoted," third part; and Testimony concern- 
 ing him. 
 
 RICHARD POOLE. 
 
 Richard Poole, son of Thomas and Catherine 
 Poole, of Dortrope, in the county of Northamp- 
 ton, came into Ireland, with the English army, in 
 
JAMES AND ANNE GREENWOOD. 113 
 
 the year 1649, and settled, with his family, in this 
 country. His wife was Dorothy, daughter of Wil- 
 liam and Dorothy White, of Staffordshire. Hav- 
 ing joined in religious communion with the society 
 of Friends, he was willing to meet the persecutions 
 which his change of sentiment brought vipon him. 
 He addressed a few words of exhortation, to the 
 people assembled in their place for pubhc worship, 
 at Wexford, for which he was imprisoned in that 
 town ; and suffered a like punishment at Water- 
 ford, for speaking, in their place of worship, to the 
 clergyman. 
 
 For refusing to pay tithes, Richard Poole was 
 excommunicated, and thrown into Wexford jail; 
 where, after two years' imprisonment, he died, a 
 faithful sufferer for conscience sake, in the year 
 1665. Dorothy Poole died in 1715, aged one 
 hundred and seven years; above fifty of which 
 she had been a widow. . 
 
 (From MS.) 
 
 JAMES AND ANNE GREENWOOD. 
 
 James and Anne Greenwood lived in the 
 county of Antrim. United by the covenant of 
 marriage, they were also of one spirit, true help- 
 
114 JAMES AND ANNE GREENWOOD. 
 
 meets to each other. Their grave and exemplary 
 deportment, their concern for the glory of their 
 Maker and the good of their fellow-creatures; 
 their upright conduct among those with whom 
 they were conversant, reflected honour upon their 
 religious profession. They loved peace and con- 
 cord; and were strict observers of the apostle's 
 exhortation, not to forget to entertain strangers: 
 their house and hearts being open to receive those 
 who travelled in the work of the ministry, to 
 whose minds they were qualified to administer 
 refreshment, as well as to their bodies. 
 
 James Greenwood, being infirm for many years, 
 was unable to travel much abroad; but his wife, 
 who enjoyed health, was serviceable at general 
 meetings, by the depth of her judgment, the wis- 
 dom of her counsel, and the sweetness and even- 
 ness of her temper. Her words, in testimony, 
 were but few, and expressed with modesty; in 
 which her example was a check to those who were 
 forward and rash in thus appearing : yet was she 
 kind and tender to those who sought after good 
 in early life, sympathizing with the distressed; and 
 her manners and conversation were so gentle, so 
 engaging, and so wise, that even disorderly and 
 obstinate persons were oftentimes won upon by 
 her conferences with them. 
 
 This worthy pair, '' lovely in their lives," were 
 not long divided by death. They died in the 
 same year, 1700. 
 
JOHN CLIBBORN. 115 
 
 This account is taken from *^ Rutty's Rise and 
 Progress of the people called Quakers in Ireland; 
 and we are not informed thereby, whether both 
 those friends were ministers. 
 
 JOHN CLIBBORN. 
 
 John Clibborn, son of William Clibborn, was 
 born near Cowley, in the county of Durham, in 
 1623; and, in the year 1649, came into Ireland, 
 a soldier in Cromwell's army. In 1653, he mar- 
 ried Margaret Crow, at Newry, province of Ulster, 
 and settled at Moate Grenoge, county of West- 
 meath. Pride appears to have been one of his 
 faults ; and finding that the people called Quakers 
 had a meeting-house on his land, he was much 
 displeased; for he, with many others, looked on 
 them, not only with contempt, but aversion, and, 
 determining to banish them from his premises, he 
 resolved to burn their meeting-house. Humanity 
 forbade his doing this on the day assigned for gene- 
 ral public worship, when the people might be assem- 
 bled in the house ; but, on another day of the week, 
 he provided himself with fire, and went thither. 
 To his surprise, he found Friends assembled 
 there ; and one of them, Thomas Loe, preaching. 
 
116 JOHN CLIBBORN. 
 
 He threw the fire away, went in, sate down be- 
 hind the door, and was touched with what he 
 heard. His wife asking him, on his return, if he 
 had burned the Quaker's meeting-house, he said : 
 " No ; but if you will come to meeting with me 
 next Sunday, and do not like it, I shall go to 
 church with you the Sunday following." 
 
 She accompanied her husband to meeting. 
 Thomas Loe again preached. Both John Clib- 
 born and his wife received the truth of his doc- 
 trine into their hearts, and became members of 
 that society which had been the object of such 
 displeasure and dislike. This was about the year 
 1658. John Clibborn some time after attended 
 a general meeting, in the' same meeting-house; 
 and perceiving it inconveniently crowded, ad- 
 dressed the assembly : " Friends, if you put up 
 with this house now, you shall have a larger next 
 time." And soon after fulfilled his promise, by 
 building, at his own expence, a meeting-house, 
 which, with a lot of ground adjoining, for a burial- 
 place, he bequeathed to Friends for ever. And 
 in this grave-yard were deposited the remains of 
 his wife Margaret, in the year 1661. In 1664 he 
 took to wife Dinah English, daughter of Thomas 
 English, of Turphealem, county of Westmeath. 
 He was a man of exemplary conduct, generous 
 and open-hearted, liberal to the poor of all de- 
 nominations, and hospitable, especially to those 
 strangers who came on errands of love, preach- 
 ing the gospel of peace; useful in his own society, 
 
JOHN CLIBBORN. lit 
 
 and in his neighbourhood, where he was beloved 
 and esteemed. His situation, in the time of the 
 civil wars in Ireland, was peculiarly perilous ; being 
 only a few miles from Athlone, where the Irish 
 army had estabhshed one of their principal gar- 
 risons, from whence issued parties which distress- 
 ed the country. Thither, also, the Raparees 
 brought their prisoners. 
 
 John CUbborn and his friends continued for 
 some time, at great hazard, to keep up the meet- 
 ing at his house, where, succouring many, and 
 endued with patience and courage, he remained, 
 till he was dragged, in the night, by the hair of 
 his head, from that home which had afforded an 
 asylum to the distressed ; but which was now the 
 spoil of the plunderer and of the flames. His own 
 life was attempted three times, by those blood- 
 thirsty men, who, at length, desperate in their 
 wickedness, laid his head on a block, and, raising 
 the hatchet, prepared to strike the fatal blow. 
 He requested a little time. His request was 
 granted. The pious man kneeled dov/n, and, in 
 the words of the first martyr, prayed that this sin 
 might not be laid to their charge. He prayed not 
 for his own life. With the prospect of a better 
 world before him, and being harassed and per- 
 secuted in this, perhaps he did not wish it to be 
 prolonged. 
 
 Just then another party arrived, and enquired, 
 " Who have you got there ?" The answer was, 
 "CUbborn." * " Clibborn!" re-echoed they: *' a 
 
118 JOHN CLIEBORN. 
 
 hair of his head shall not be touched." Thus 
 escaping with his life, though stripped almost 
 naked, he wrapped a blanket about him, presented 
 himself before the officer who commanded the 
 garrison at Athlone, and informed him of the 
 treatment he had met with. It is probable that 
 some of the mihtary united with the banditti in 
 those acts of violence ; for the officer desired John 
 Clibborn to point out the man or men who had 
 committed this outrage, and they should be hang- 
 ed before his hall-door. This the benevolent suf- 
 ferer refused to do ; declaring that, owing them 
 no ill-will, he desired not to do them the smallest 
 injury, and that all he wanted was, that his neigh- 
 bours and himself might be allowed to live unmo- 
 lested. 
 
 This good man saw tranquillity restored to the 
 land, and thankfully enjoyed that blessing, which 
 those who have witnessed its interruption can best 
 appreciate. He was diligent in attention to reli- 
 gious duties, preserved in unity with his friends, 
 and in love to all mankind, to the end of his long 
 life; which closed, at the age of eighty-two, the 
 22d of 5th month, 1705, at his house at Moate 
 Grenoge. 
 
 From accounts received from his family. 
 
119 
 
 ANTHONY SHARP. 
 
 Anthony Sharp was born in Gloucestershire, in 
 the year 1642; and in 1665, the ministry of Wil- 
 liam Dewsbury, at a meeting in Warwick prison, 
 so impressed his mind, as to induce him to join 
 the religious society of Friends. He settled in 
 Dublin in 1669, and, some time after, spoke in 
 public as a minister. At that time there were but 
 few Friends in Dublin; and those were exposed 
 to great sufferings, on account of tithes, and 
 other demands, with which, for conscience sake, 
 they could not comply. Anthony Sharp was very 
 serviceable to them by advice; and his exertions 
 on their behalf, with persons in authority, were 
 often successful. His house was open, to enter- 
 tain his friends with cordial and cheerful wel- 
 come. 
 
 In 1683, he and some other Friends of Dublin 
 were thrown into prison, because they continued 
 to attend their religious meetings, contrary to the 
 orders of government, which prohibited the pub- 
 lic meetings of dissenters; and the submission of 
 other sects to this order, occasioned increased 
 severity towards those who dared not disobey Him 
 who encouraged the two and three to meet toge- 
 ther in His name. 
 
 Industrious in his business, and having justly 
 obtained the reputation of v/isdom and honesty in 
 
1^0 ANTHONY SHARP. 
 
 his dealings, Anthony Sharp's property augmented 
 rapidly. But this did not prove a means of chok- 
 ing the good seed in his heart: his wisdom and 
 his wealth were dedicated to useful purposes, his 
 friends were henefited by his example and advice, 
 and he contributed largely to the relief of the 
 poor. 
 
 His trading concerns occasioned his mixing 
 with persons of various persuasions and tempers, 
 amongst whom he preserved a conduct consistent 
 with his profession. His spirit was too manly 
 and sincere to permit conformity with customs 
 which his principles disallowed; and when the 
 conversation was unprofitable and frivolous, he 
 endeavoured to lead it to serious and instructive 
 subjects. In his public preaching he frequently ad- 
 dressed those not of his own profession, being gift- 
 ed for that service. He had a good understand- 
 ing, ready utterance, and clear delivery, which 
 caused his labours of love to be more generally 
 acceptable. He left some manuscripts in defence 
 of the principles which he professed, and travelled, 
 at different times, through this nation, and in 
 England. In 1695 he visited Holland, some 
 parts of Germany and Denmark, and, some time 
 after, Scotland ; and having lived beloved and es- 
 teemed, for many years, he finished his course, 
 and laid down his head in peace, in the year 
 1706, aged sixty-four. 
 
 From " Ilutty's Rise and Progress." 
 
Igl 
 
 JAMES KNOWLES. 
 
 It appears that James Knowles was born in the 
 year 1623. A testimony concerning him is found 
 in the records of Carlow monthly meeting. It is 
 given forth by the near relations and children of 
 his wife, who term him their dear friend and father; 
 and as he lived amongst them, in the county of 
 Carlow, after the death of their mother, in 1690, 
 to the time of his own decease, therefore they 
 justly remarked, that, from their long and intimate 
 acquaintance, they had a true knowledge of him ; 
 and they testify their belief, that he was a man 
 deeply sensible of the life and power of true re- 
 ligion, which seasoned and sanctified his life and 
 conversation, and adorned his profession; for he 
 was careful to conduct himself as became a ser- 
 vant and follower of Christ, whom it is believed 
 he served faithfully and sincerely, and was zealous- 
 ly concerned for the prosperity of truth and 
 righteousness, and for the growth and preserva- 
 tion of his friends therein. He was a preacher 
 in example more than words, in which he was 
 not diffuse ; but his ministry was sound, and many 
 were benefited by it. When prevented, by age 
 and infirmities, from travelling in the exercise of 
 his ministry, he greatly delighted to sit with 
 Friends in their meetings, and to observe the 
 
 G 
 
122 JAMES KNOWLES. 
 
 management of the discipline of the society to 
 which he belonged ; and though he spoke little 
 in meetings of discipline, the fervency of his spirit 
 was evident; as was his concern, that whatever 
 tended to violate the testimonies which he and 
 his friends professed to maintain, should be sub- 
 dued in their hearts, and in his own; rejoicing to 
 hear of those who walked steadfastly in the path 
 of duty, and mourning over those who deviated 
 from it, whether personally known or unknown to 
 him. 
 
 He had much enjoyment in the company of 
 religious friends ; truly loving them, and being be- 
 ing beloved by them; ever preferring others be- 
 fore himself, humble and lowly-minded, just and 
 upright in his dealings, hating every appearance 
 of evil, and careful to keep his conversation with- 
 out blemish. He endured a time of great bodily 
 weakness, with much patience; and as he lived 
 the life of the righteous, and walked in the fear of 
 his Maker, there is good ground to believe that 
 he died in his favour; laying down his head in 
 peace, and departing from this life, the 25th of 
 8th month, 1707, aged eighty-four. 
 
 From Records of Carlow monthly meeting. 
 
123 
 
 GEORGE NEWLAND. 
 
 George Newland, the son of George and Su- 
 sanna Newland, of Dublin, was born about 1690. 
 He was one of the wise and happy few who have 
 oiFered the " flower in the bud — no mean sacrifice." 
 The aspirations of his young and tender heart 
 were to Him who said : " Suffer httle children to 
 come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such 
 is the kingdom of heaven." And when he devi- 
 ated from this, and permitted his mind to enter 
 into the follies to which childhood is prone, con- 
 viction, sorrow, and repentance followed. He de- 
 sired to withdraw from the temptations of thought- 
 less companions, to the retirement of the country; 
 and was, thereforr, sent by his parents, to Sankey 
 in Lancashire, and placed under the tuition of 
 Gilbert Thompson. 
 
 So early in life as his twelfth year he became a 
 preacher, and travelled in the work of the minis- 
 try, visiting Friends in the three provinces. Meet- 
 ings were generally large where he came; for sur- 
 prise and admiration were excited by beholding 
 him, with his childish stature, countenance, and 
 voice, stand forth to deliver the solemn truths of 
 the gospel, and to exhort those of mature and ad- 
 vanced age. Moving by the command of his 
 G 2 
 
124 GEORGE NEWLAND. 
 
 great Master, and endued by Him with a good 
 understanding, he was not forward to utter words, 
 without a divine impulse to do so ; and his exem- 
 plary conversation and innocent deportment gain- 
 ed for him the esteem and love of his friends. 
 
 The race of this pious youth was soon run. In 
 his nineteenth year his health began to fail; and 
 to his anxious mother's enquiry, whether he thought 
 he should recover, he replied, that he did not know ; 
 but, if it was the Lord's will, he had rather die 
 than live : but added, he durst not desire it. As 
 he drew towards his close, it was his great privi- 
 lege to be able to say: "I strove to serve the 
 Lord in my health, and now I reap the benefit of 
 it : I can look forward, and that is a mercy." And 
 feeling increasing consolation, added : " Oh ! if 
 the earnest be so precious, what vv^ill the fulness 
 be !" He gave sweet counsel to his brother and 
 sisters, telHng them: '' In my health, when I went 
 to bed, I did meditate and think upon the Lord; 
 and now, in my sickness, I find the benefit there- 
 of." He tenderly acknowledged the care and 
 love of his parents, and expressed his hope of 
 their meeting to part no more. Feeling the pangs 
 of death come on, he called for his mother, and 
 said: " My dear mother, take it patiently, for 
 thou mayst rejoice that I am going." Then de- 
 sired all to be, '^ quiet and still," sent several 
 times to know the hour, settled . his head on the 
 pillow, and, like an innocent lamb, sweetly ex- 
 
JOHN WATSON. 125 
 
 pired, the 24th of 8th month, 1708, after an ill- 
 ness of three months, aged nearly nineteen. 
 
 From " Piety Promoted," 4tli part. 
 
 JOHN WATSON. 
 
 John Watson, born in the year 1651, came with 
 his father into Ireland, in 1658. Those early set- 
 tlers are often called planters. His father was one, 
 and Kilconner, in the county of Carlow, became 
 the family residence. 
 
 When John Watson was about twenty- two 
 years of age, he was invited to a religious meeting 
 of the society of Friends at New Garden. It was 
 the first he had attended, and the ministry of John 
 Burnyeat so touched his heart, that he joined that 
 society; and believing he did right in so doing, he 
 was enabled to bear the displeasure of his father, 
 which was particularly excited by his son's adopt- 
 ing their plain mode of speech. It may noza occa- 
 sion some surprise why this should have given 
 such offence ; but our ancient records inform us of 
 much suffering on that account having been en- 
 dured, from within and from without ; for severe 
 conflicts of spirit were experienced, before the will 
 
1^6 JOHN WATSON. 
 
 was subdued, so as to fortify the mind to overcome 
 the reluctance to bear the cross in this particular : 
 especially as the singular number was formerly used 
 in speaking to those of inferior station, persons in 
 higher rank, when addressed in this manner, were 
 wont to look upon it as denoting disrespect, and, 
 accordingly, resented it. Not uncovering the 
 head, in salutation to a fellow-creature, also drew 
 down much displeasure on those who forebore to 
 foster that self-complacency which expected that 
 outward show of respect from those who withheld 
 it, not from lack of good will or courtesy, but from 
 the conviction that it was their duty to refrain 
 from paying it, believing it originated in pride and 
 servility, and tended to encourage these evils. 
 
 In 1674, John Watson married Anne Tomlin- 
 sen, whose parents had settled in Ireland about 
 the time of his father's removal thither. His wife 
 joined herself to the society of which her husband 
 was a member, and both patiently endured the fa- 
 ther's remonstrance against his son's change of his 
 profession of religion; and in these remonstrances 
 he was seconded by archdeacon Plummer, who, 
 finding persuasion unavailing, threatened him with 
 a prison; to which threat the pious young man 
 replied: " I do not fear it, but will make ready for 
 one ;" and thereupon disposed of some of the land 
 which he occupied, to lessen his rent and incum- 
 brances. 
 
 He Hved in his father's house, which, in 1675, 
 becoming his own by the decease of his father, 
 
JOHN WATSON. 127 
 
 meetings of Friends were occasionally held there, 
 and regularly established in 1678; which gave 
 great offence to the archdeacon, and to the bishop 
 of Leighlinand Ferns ; who, sueing him for refusing 
 to contribute to the repairs of the parish worship- 
 house at Fenagh, obtained a writ against him, 
 which the archdeacon told him should not be put 
 in force, if he would but submit to them, and not 
 allow meetings in his house : c..id on his refusal to 
 accede to those terms, he ordered him to prison, 
 cruelly adding: "There he shall lie till he rots." 
 He was a prisoner above two years, with the ad- 
 dition of suffering in his property, under pretence 
 of an escape, because the sheriff had sometimes 
 granted him liberty to visit his own home. To 
 that home and to liberty he was at length restored, 
 and found it was allotted to him to do, as well as 
 to suffer, in the cause of righteousness; for in 1696 
 he found it was his duty to preach the gospel, and 
 in that service he took several journeys into 
 England, and through this nation; having meetings 
 in remote places, where none of his religious pro- 
 fession resided. He was also zealously concerned 
 for the support of the discipline established 
 amongst Friends, and for good order in their fa- 
 milies ; in which he gave the example of ruling 
 well his own house, and, in the spirit of love, keep- 
 ing his children in that subjection which tended to 
 promote their own happiness. As he was an 
 affectionate father, so he was a tender and kind 
 husband to a worthy wife; and they united in 
 
128 JOHN WATSON. 
 
 humble submission to the will of the great Dis- 
 poser, while they drank of a cup which, had it not 
 been palliated by resignation, parental feelings 
 would have found very bitter. 
 
 Their daughter Elizabeth accompanied a minis- 
 tering woman Friend in her journey to the pro- 
 vince of Ulster ; and there, remote from her pa- 
 rents, sickened of the small-pox. On receiving 
 this information, her father went to her. The 
 state of the roads and posts at that time did not 
 permit the anxious mother to receive regular intel- 
 ligence of her situation ; and her child's death was 
 first announced to her by the sight of her husband 
 returning, accompanied by his daughter's horse, 
 with her clothes tied on the side-saddle. The 
 mother stood a while silent, and then bore this 
 testimony, honourable to her children, and con- 
 soling to herself: " I have had ten children, and 
 not one bad one !" Ehzabeth Watson died in the 
 year 1712, at the house of William Gray of Bally- 
 hagen, in the 25th year of her age. 
 
 John Watson was naturally of a mild and affa- 
 ble temper, yet he was firm in opposing any ten- 
 dency to violate those testimonies, the supporting 
 of which led to humility and self-denial. 
 
 His last ilhiess continued about three months, 
 in which time he was often exercised in fervent 
 prayer to the Almighty ; giving praises to his holy 
 name for his favours and mercies towards him, 
 and testifying resignation to his holy will, saying : 
 *' If the Lord have not a further service for me, I 
 
JOHN WATSON. 10) 
 
 am willing to die. I bless God I have a peaceful 
 conscience. My good God hath all along been 
 my strength, my stay, my song and salvation.' 
 He was pleased to see his friends, and had often a 
 word of tender advice to them, especially to the 
 youth, for whose preservation he was much con- 
 cerned ; and addressing a young minister, he thus 
 advised him: "Be sure keep low in thy mind, and 
 little in thy ovvn eyes ; yet be not fearful, but of a 
 believing heart. Look not much at others, nei- 
 ther be dismayed at the frowns of any, but mind 
 truth in thyself. I have ever found that my peace 
 and safety," 
 
 Looking tenderly upon his children, he said: '* I 
 leave you to the Lord ; and if you love him above 
 all, he will be your God, as he has been mine." 
 He exhorted his wife, children, and servants, to 
 treasure up the memory of those seasons in which 
 their minds participated together of the influence 
 of good. He exhorted them to live in love, and 
 the Lord of love would bless them as they kept 
 near him ; adding : " O Lord ! thou knov/est I 
 have always depended upon thee, and thou hast 
 never failed me." When the near approach of 
 death caused his voice to be scarcely audible, he 
 was engaged in advising one of his friends to 
 guard against the snares of wealth, to content 
 himself with the sufficiency which was granted 
 him, to keep in humility, and to devote to the ser- 
 vice of the Lord that good understanding which 
 
 G o 
 
130 JOHN WATSON. 
 
 had been given him. To another he thus ex- 
 pressed himself: " My heart is united to thee, and 
 to all faithful Friends, as Jonathan's was to Da- 
 vid." And sleeping Httle or none the last night of 
 his life, he was fervent in prayer on behalf of their 
 small meeting, and that Friends might be preserv- 
 ed a growing people. " Oh! happy," said the 
 dying man, " is that man or woman that hath 
 their work done in their day. I have nothing to 
 do but to die, and offer up my soul to the Lord." 
 And again: " I have done, and go in peace with 
 my God." In this happy state his purified spirit 
 was released, the 19th of 1st Month, 1710, at his 
 house in Kilconner, in the sixtieth year of his 
 age. 
 
 His son Samuel thus bears witness to the cha- 
 racter of his deceased father: " When I consider 
 his grave and solid deportment in his family, his 
 great care for our welfare, and good advice to us 
 in tenderness of spirit, when young in years; as 
 also his earnest concern for the growth of truth, 
 and preservation of those who professed it, my 
 spirit is tenderly affected with a sense of the loss, 
 which both we of his family and the church also 
 sustain, by the removal of so kind and tender a 
 father and faithful friend." 
 
 His widow long survived him, closing an inno- 
 cent, exemplary, and useful life, in the house of 
 her son, Samuel Watson, at Kilconner, in the year 
 1744, aged ninety-seven. 
 
 From 
 
131 
 
 ELIZABETH HERITAGE. 
 
 Elizabeth Heritage was born in Leicestershire, 
 in England, in the year 1638. She came with her 
 first husband, Arthur Church, into Ireland, in 
 the year 1657, living for the most part in Queen's 
 County. Both joined the society of Friends. 
 She became a widow, and in 1674 married 
 Ephraim Heritage, and settled with him at New 
 Garden, in the compass of Carlow monthly meeting. 
 She had several children, some of whom she out- 
 lived. Her services in pubhc and private hfe, from 
 youth to age, are testified of by her friends. She 
 was concerned to exhort in meetings for worship, 
 in few words, but which were edifying to the 
 honest-hearted; and her example coincided with 
 the doctrines which her ministry inculcated ; ad- 
 vising to perseverance in the narrow path of truth 
 and simplicity, and affectionately inviting the youth 
 to turn their steps into that way. She had a kind, 
 honest, liberal heart; was a diligent attender of 
 meetings, both at home and those at a distance ; 
 and when under the affliction of a tedious illness 
 and bodily pains, her spirit was sustained with pa- 
 tience and resignation, the consciousness of hav- 
 ing done her duty, and the feelings of the Divine 
 presence continued to her from her early youth to 
 her last days ; and an assurance was granted her of 
 an entrance into a blessed and eternal rest. Her 
 
IS2 JOHN CHAMBERS. 
 
 expressions of those feelings comforted and .en- 
 couraged her mourning friends and family, who 
 were painfully sensible of their approaching loss ; 
 a loss which they knew would be widely felt. She 
 was preserved in this sweet serenity of mind till 
 the last, and in this state departed, 2d of 11th 
 month, 1714, aged seventy-six. 
 
 From Hecords of Carlow Monthly Meeting. 
 
 JOHN CHAMBERS. 
 
 John Chambers, born in 1676, was a native of 
 Scotland. He resided in Dublin the last sixteen 
 years of his life. His talents were dedicated to 
 the Giver of them, in early youth; and, being 
 faithful to the manifestations of duty, he became 
 a preacher, in which service he sometimes travel- 
 led abroad, but was chiefly engaged in that city 
 where he had fixed his residence. He was zea- 
 lous in exhorting against an inordinate love of 
 lawful things; and that those who had received 
 from their honourable parents a careful education, 
 should not depend on outward appearances, but 
 endeavour to feel in themselves that which led to 
 
SARAH BAKER. 133 
 
 consistency. He was well qualified to take an ac- 
 tive part in the discipline of the society : sharp in 
 reproof to wilful and obstinate sinners, but com- 
 passionate to those who, having slipped, through 
 weakness or sudden temptation, were humbled 
 under a sense of their transgression. He de- 
 parted this life in peace, 1714, aged thirty-eight. 
 
 From " Ruttj's Rise and Progress." 
 
 SARAH BAKER. 
 
 Sarah Peyton was born at Dudley in Worces- 
 tershire, and at the age of twenty-one, being obe- 
 dient to holy requirings, became a preacher ; and, 
 in the exercise of her ministry, laboured not only 
 at home, but in Ireland and America. She after- 
 wards married Samuel Baker of Dublin, an 
 honest-hearted Friend, and resided in that city 
 for the most part of her remaining time; where she 
 was very serviceable in many respects, both as a 
 minister justly esteemed, and in meetings for con- 
 ducting the discipline of the society, in relieving 
 the poor, and visiting the sick and afflicted in body 
 and mind. When her natural strength declined, 
 
134 WILLIAM WATSON. 
 
 her inward strength did not fail ; and at her de- 
 parture from this world, she was comforted by the 
 evidence of peace with the Lord. She died 1714. 
 
 From " Hutty's Rise and Progress." 
 
 WILLIAM WATSON. 
 
 William Watson was born at Crane, in the 
 county of Wexford, in the year 1687, of parents 
 who were of the society of Friends, and who were 
 careful of his education, as he thus acknowledges, 
 in a letter dated 1707: "Dear parents, I hope I 
 shall never be unmindful of your great care to me, 
 which ye have often, yea, always made me a sharer 
 of; and though we be often outwardly separated, 
 yet I hope the Lord, whom, in sincerity, according 
 to my measure, I desire always to serve, will keep 
 us in such a frame of mind, that we shall be near to 
 him, and to one another." 
 
 At sixteen years of age he came forth in the 
 ministry, in which (thus Friends belonging to his 
 monthly meeting have recorded of him) " he was 
 careful to wait for the motion of the word of hfe ; 
 so that he grew in his gift, and became an able 
 
WILLIAM WATSON. 135 
 
 minister of the gospel of Christ." And further, 
 they bear witness to his sound, deUberate, weighty 
 doctrine; the tender frame of spirit in which he 
 deHvered it ; the sweetness of that hfe and power 
 attending his ministry, and his fervency in prayer ; 
 adding: "He had not only a gift for the ministry, 
 but was also well qualified for the discipline ; hav- 
 ing a due respect to faithful elders, loving and af- 
 fectionate to the brethren, zealously concerned for 
 peace and unity among Friends, and that back- 
 sliders might be admonished, and judgment set 
 over the heads of transgressors, according to the 
 good order of the gospel, yet very desirous of their 
 return." His mild and grave deportment begot a 
 good esteem amongst his neighbours. 
 
 He travelled as a minister several times in his 
 native country, once in Scotland, and three times 
 in some parts of England ; his faithful dedication 
 affording great comfort to his parents, and to his 
 uncle John Watson, (mentioned in this work,) but 
 it was not permitted them to enjoy, to the end of 
 their days, the satisfaction of his society, and to 
 leave one after them, whose example might benefit 
 another generation; for in a letter to his mother, 
 he endeavours, in a solemn and tender manner, to 
 prepare her for the afflicting communication, and 
 proceeds: "And now, my dear and aiFectionate 
 mother, I shall give thee to understand, that I have 
 been for some days past but weakly, chiefly occa- 
 sioned, I think, by spitting of blood, which is now 
 stopped for full tw enty-four hours past, or more. 
 
136 WILLIAM WATSON. 
 
 and I am mueli easier than I was. I may also let 
 thee know that the Almighty, whose gracious arm 
 hath been near to me from my youth, and under- 
 neath in all my troubles, has been mercifully with 
 me in this illness, sweetening my soul with his 
 wonted goodness and loving-kindness, making the 
 soul to triumph over death and the grave, in the 
 power of an endless life : my heart with humility 
 desires to give him the praise, whom I can truly 
 say I have desired faithfully to serve, in the gospel 
 of his dear son, according to my measure. Give 
 my dear Icve to my father and sisters. I desire 
 the Lord's blessing may rest upon them. Tell 
 them to live loose to this world, and the things 
 thereof, and near to truth, and make ready for 
 their change. My dear love is to all Friends in 
 that county, amongst whom I have often laboured, 
 and discharged my duty, as far as I know, both to 
 old and young, faithful and unfaithful: let them 
 take heed how they slight counsel. So, dear mo- 
 ther, shall salute thee in tender love, hoping, in the 
 will of God, to see thee once more in that county. 
 " I am thy loving, affectionate son, 
 
 " William Watson." 
 
 The above was dated 1715, the last year of his 
 life; his distemper making a gradual progress, 
 sapping his strength and withering his youth, but 
 oppressing not his spirit, which, more and more 
 purified, overflowed in written and oral communi- 
 cations, to the instruction and consolation of his 
 
WILLIAM WATSON. 137 
 
 friends. He was, in the time of health, a diligent 
 attender of meetings, and observant of the hour 
 appointed; and when his weakness prevented his 
 leaving his house. Friends, at his request, occasion- 
 ally met there, to their mutual comfort ; and at 
 times he appeared amongst them in a few tender 
 words, declaring his resignation to the will of God, 
 and advising to a circumspect waiting upon the 
 Lord. 
 
 The men's meeting being held at his house a 
 few days before his death, after it was over he 
 desired some Friends would come into his cham- 
 ber, and being supported in his bed, he took his 
 last farewell, thus : " Dear Friends, we have had 
 many sweet seasons together, and now we are near 
 to take leave of one another; wherefore I desire 
 your continued care over the church of Christ; 
 and you can never be careful over the church of 
 Christ, unless you are first careful of yourselves, as 
 the apostle Paul said, when he was taking leave of 
 the elders of the church : * Take heed unto your- 
 selves, and to all the flock, over the which the 
 Holy Ghost hath made you overseers.' " He also 
 advised Friends to do justly, love mercy, and 
 walk humbly with God ; and added : " In your 
 men's meetings be not too full of words, neither 
 usurp authority one over another, or strive who 
 shall be greatest there ; but dwell low, dwell hum- 
 ble : walk in humihty, and God Almighty be with 
 you and with your families.'" 
 In this manner he parted with his dear companionSa 
 
138 MARGARET HOARE. 
 
 whose hearts were sorrowful at the prospect of the 
 approaching separation, and melted with a tender 
 sense of the divine virtue which influenced the 
 counsels of their dying friend, who departed this 
 life the 22d of the 12th Month, 1715, in the 
 twenty-ninth year of his age. 
 
 From a MS. 
 
 MARGARET HOARE. 
 
 Margarei vv^ATTERTiiwAiTE was married to Joseph 
 Hoare, of Cork. She appears to have been an 
 eminent minister of the gospel, and to have fre- 
 quently travelled on this account, both in England 
 and Ireland, and also to have had meetings with 
 those not of her own profession of religion. At 
 home she was serviceable in visiting families, and 
 in other offices necessary in the discipline of the 
 society. She was a kind mother to her husband's 
 children of a former marriage, as well as to her 
 own, and was repaid by their dutiful affection. In 
 her last sickness she evidently triumphed over 
 death, receiving the visits of her friends in much 
 love, pressing it upon them to seek after, and love 
 the Lord above all, and not permit their minds to 
 
ROBERT HOOPE. 139 
 
 be incumbered with fading and transitory objects ; 
 but to live so that they might see their way, and 
 be ready and willing to do what the Lord might 
 please to require of them ; tenderly and humbly 
 adding, that she could, in great humility, thankful- 
 ness, and reverence, say, that she could not charge 
 herself with having declined any journey or ser- 
 vice that the Lord required of her: "which," said 
 she, " is now my great comfort, in this the time of 
 my weakness." To Joseph Pike, her brother by 
 affinity, she said : " My dear brother, I have loved 
 thee very dearly in the truth, ever since our first 
 acquaintance, and my soul hath been nearly united 
 to thine by the Lord's spirit, in which our love, 
 union, and fellowship hath stood. We must part; 
 but in a little time we shall meet again, never to 
 part more." Thus, clothed with love and resigna- 
 tion, and in full assurance of eternal happiness, she 
 passed away, in the 1st month, 1717 — 18. 
 
 From " Ilutty's Rise and Progress," and " Piety Promoted," 
 eth Part. 
 
 ROBERT HOOPE. 
 
 Robert Hoope, of Lurgan, born 1639, was edu- 
 cated a Protestant, according to the church of 
 England : he was a native of Yorkshire, and came 
 
140 ROBERT HOOPE. 
 
 iiito Ireland in the year 1660. Having entertained 
 doubts respecting religious matters, he met with 
 Thomas Loe, an eminent preacher among the re- 
 ligious society of Friends, and was convinced of 
 the truth of the doctrine he declared, and joined 
 himself to that people ; and, in consequence of so 
 doing, underwent persecutions by imprisonment, 
 and a variety of sufferings. He became a minis- 
 ter, and was faithful in the exercise of his gift ; 
 more distinguished by life and power than by elo- , 
 quence. He was a plain, sound-hearted man, free 
 from ostentation, a peace-maker, a true disciple 
 and follower of Jesus in self-denial, and preferring 
 the glories of his heavenly kingdom before the 
 perishing riches of this world. He gave a signal 
 proof of this, in the latter part of his life, having, 
 for twenty years before his decease, when his 
 health and capacity might have allowed him to 
 pursue the affairs of this life with a prospect of in- 
 creasing riches, separated himself from the incum- 
 brances of the world, leading a life of solitude, 
 meditation, and devotedness to the service of his 
 Maker. 
 
 He died in the year 1719, in the 80th year of 
 his age. 
 
 From ••' Ruttj's Rise and Progress." 
 
141 
 
 JOHN EXHAM. 
 
 John Exham, bom in 1630, in tlie county of 
 Kerry, was a military man. He laid down his 
 sword, and joined the peaceable society of Friends, 
 in the year 1658. He was engaged in public 
 ministry; and imparted to the small gatherings of 
 Friends in those early days, that sound and whole- 
 some doctrine which he was commissioned by his 
 heavenly Master to declare. About the year 
 1667, his head covered with sackcloth and ashes, 
 he proclaimed repentance and amendment of life 
 through the streets of Cork : for this he was im- 
 prisoned, yet in 1698 he performed the like ser- 
 vice. 
 
 He lived at Charleville, in the county of Cork, 
 where the arl of Orrery, in the reign of Charles 11. 
 resided in great splendour, and too often, in 
 his magnificent mansion, hospitality degenerated 
 into riot and excess. Durincr one of those seasons 
 of merriment, John Exham behoved it was requir- 
 ed of him to go to the great house; and his mo- 
 tions being observed, a crowd followed, desirous 
 to discover his business there. He appeared be- 
 fore the revellers, called them to repentance, and 
 foretold that the stately scene of their festivity 
 should become a habitation for the fov/ls of the 
 air. The servants of the nobleman, hearing and 
 resenting this denunciation, were about to turn 
 John Exham out of the house, which their master, 
 
142 JOHN EXHAM. 
 
 of gentler manners, and perhaps impressed by tlie 
 awful prophecy, forbade, and desired that the 
 honest man should not be interrupted. Having 
 delivered his message, the prophet withdrew, but 
 soon returned, and calling for the earl, thus ad- 
 dressed him; "Because thou hast been kind and 
 loving to the servant of the Lord, the evil shall 
 not be in thy days." After the earl's death, in the 
 times of civil commotion, this superb dwelling was 
 so much desolated by fire, that it literally became 
 a habitation for the fowls of the air, who built 
 their nests within the deserted walls *." 
 
 At the time of the struggle between James II. 
 and WiUiam III. John Exham was one of the 
 many unoffending sufferers. Officers of the Irish 
 army were quartered in his house. It was this 
 good man's daily practice (and no business nor 
 company prevented it) to spend some time in re- 
 tirement in his closet; and this was a subject of 
 ridicule for those thoughtless men, who were en- 
 joying the comforts of his house. It is related, 
 that one morning, coming out of his place of medi- 
 tation, the principal officer, disregarding the so- 
 lidity of his countenance, began, as usual, to deride 
 him; but John, looking steadfastly upon him, 
 said: "By this time to-morrow, not one of you 
 will be here to afflict my soul." The man, con- 
 founded at this, went to the governor, and inform- 
 
 • See "Tlutty's Rise and Progress of the People called 
 Quakers, in Ireland," p. 294. 
 
JOHN EXHAM. 143 
 
 ed him of it; upon which he sent a file of mus- 
 keteers to bring the Friend before him, and when he 
 appeared, queried of him whether he had used the 
 expression imputed to him. John Exham said he 
 had; and being questioned what cause he had for 
 saying so, answered, that it had been manifested to 
 him in his silent waiting upon the Lord. Upon 
 this he was dismissed as an enthusiast. That day 
 was the battle of the Boyne; after which an express 
 was sent to the Irish army to quit Charleville, and 
 throw their force into Limerick ; and before John 
 arose the following morning, his guests had all 
 left his house. 
 
 In the year 1710, being the eighty-first year of 
 his age, and when almost blind, John Exham gave 
 a singular instance of the fervour and constancy of 
 his love to his brethren, by performing a religious 
 visit to most of the families of Friends throughout 
 the nation, in the course of which there occurred 
 another instance of his prophetic spirit. Sitting in 
 a Friend's family, he informed them that there was 
 among them a youth, upon whom the Lord would 
 pour forth his spirit, and that he should visit 
 several nations. This was accomplished, by the 
 dedication of a young man then present, who, be- 
 coming a minister, exercised his gift to the edifi- 
 cation of the churches both at home and abroad *. 
 
 This excellent old man was beloved by his 
 friends and neighbours, his life and conversation 
 
 • See "Rutty's Rise and Progress," &c. p. 294. 
 
144 ALEXANDER SEATON. 
 
 being that of one who walked in innocency. He 
 was just in his deaUngs, compassionate to the dis- 
 tressed, and seldom missed an opportunity of giv- 
 ing good counsel. He was a minister sixty years, 
 and died in 1721, in his ninety-second year. 
 
 ALEXANDER SEATON. 
 
 Alexander Seaton, a native of Scotland, born 
 about the year 1652, at the age of nineteen be- 
 came one of the society of Friends; the exem- 
 plary conduct of his relatives, Alexander Forbes 
 and his wife, who were of that profession, having 
 had such an influence over his mind, that he 
 joined in communion with them; and was confirm- 
 ed in his choice, by a dispute to which he was 
 witness, in which Robert Barclay and George 
 Keith defended their religious principles against 
 opposers, in the year 1 675. 
 
 Alexander Seaton was soon called upon to be 
 a sufferer for the faith which he professed; being 
 committed to prison, in his native town of Aber- 
 deen, with many other Friends, and confined 
 there nineteen months. While in this prison- 
 house he found it his duty to preach the gospel, 
 in which service he was engaged the remainder of 
 
ALEXANDER SEATON. , 145 
 
 his life, and travelled, on that account, in Great 
 Britain and Ireland. 
 
 He settled in Glasgow, after his marriage; 
 where, not only the rude multitude, but the ma- 
 gistrates, treated Friends so cruelly in their meet- 
 ing-houses, and by dragging them to prison, that 
 the hves of the sufferers were endangered thereby. 
 Alexander believed it right for him to bear in this 
 place a share of their burdens, and to endeavour 
 to strengthen, comfort, and encourage his friends, 
 under the persecutions which then prevailed; and 
 having been instrumental in overcoming those dif- 
 ficulties, and meetings being held with less dis- 
 turbance, he left Glasgow, and, in the year 1699, 
 removed to Ireland, and settled at Hillsborough, 
 in the county of Down, where he was of much 
 service, both in doctrine and discipline. Though 
 a scholar, he made no display of his learning; but 
 humbly and faithfully laboured, according to the 
 command of Him by whom he was commissioned 
 to go forth. Thus was he enabled to assist in 
 difficult cases, which occurred in church-discipline, 
 and to defend his religious principles when they 
 were attacked. He was little engrossed by worldly 
 pursuits, his conversation and deportment exem- 
 plary and consistent with his religious profession, 
 his words few ; and he gave some part of his time, 
 daily, to religious retirement. Thus was his spirit 
 prepared to endure the pain and weakness, which, 
 by indisposition, afflicted his latter days, saying: 
 
 H 
 
146 ALEXANI>ER SEATON. 
 
 " The comforter is near, and will endure, and the 
 afflictions will have an end. Job was hard put to 
 it, and his friends were mistaken, in that they did 
 not believe that the Lord did aillict man without 
 a sinful cause. The Lord hath been good to me, 
 from my childhood : he began to place his fear 
 in my heart very early. The Lord never fails 
 those who trust in him: he will be with them 
 to death, and through death unto eternity. Fear 
 God, and serve him: prefer his fear before all 
 things." And to his wife : " My dear, the Lord 
 is a father to the fatherless, and a husband to the 
 widow, that love and fear him; therefore be con- 
 tent, and resigned to the will of the Lord." 
 
 On her enquiring if any thing troubled him, as 
 to the settling of his affairs or children, he said ; 
 " No ; the greatest trouble that attends me, is to 
 part with thee, who hast been made a blessing to 
 the family." Some of his friends coming to visit 
 him, he was asked if he knew them. He said : 
 *' I do very well, but it is a trouble to me to speak; 
 but all is well, and will be everlastingly well.'* 
 Thus, in great peace and quietness, declaring that 
 he had partaken of the earnest of that joy which 
 should never have an end, he departed this life, 
 in the 1st month, 1723, about the seventy-first 
 year of his age, and forty-seventh of his ministry. 
 
 From " Rutty's Rise and Progress." 
 
147 
 
 JOHN BARCROFT. 
 
 John Barcroft was born near Rosenallis, in the 
 Queen's County, in the year 1664, of religious 
 parents, who had joined the society of Friends 
 about the time of his birth, and came to settle in 
 Ireland a few years before. When he was about 
 five years old, he accompanied his mother to a 
 meeting for worship, held in WilHam Edmund- 
 son's house, where the ministry of Samuel 
 Thornton touched the tender heart of this Kttle 
 child. His feehngs were such as surprised him- 
 self, and, on the way home, he imparted tliem to 
 his mother. His surprise was increased by see- 
 ing her melt into tears, at the account which he 
 gave — tears of grateful sensation ; for no greater 
 joy can rehgious parents have, than to know that 
 their children are sensible to the impressions of 
 Divine regard. 
 
 His parents removed to the King's County, in 
 1673, where there was no meeting; but other 
 Friends settling in the neighbourhood, near Eden- 
 derry, soon after, a meeting was established, and 
 held for some time at his father's house, which 
 the visits of ministering Friends from England 
 were instrumental to increase; as many who came 
 to hear them, were convinced of the truth of their 
 H 2 
 
148 JOHN BARCROPT. 
 
 doctrine. John Barcroft was often sent to invite 
 their neighbours, on those occasions, and, being 
 a child in years, knowing his own weakness, and 
 tliffident in speaking on rehgious subjects, he was 
 fearfuiy and soHcitous how he should reply to 
 (mestions which might be put to him; yet his an- 
 swers to such questions were admired at, not only 
 by others, but by himself, who was sensible that 
 wisdom superior to his own had furnished them. 
 This wisdom he sought and depended upon, and 
 not on his own understanding. Thus, humbly 
 and carefully walking, seeking the company of 
 honest Friends, marvelling that his was so accept- 
 able to them, and freely permitted by his parents 
 to go with ministers to distant meetings, his early 
 youth passed happily, preserved from yielding to 
 temptations incident to that age. Yet even here 
 there was a danger; a danger of sitting down con- 
 tentedly, and sinking into self-complacency. This 
 he felt, and against this he craved that assistance 
 which is never withheld from those who seek it 
 in sincerity; yet his conflict of mind was great, 
 before he attained that confidence in Divine fa- 
 vour, which alone could give him comfort. 
 
 His parents, being far advanced in years, were 
 desirous that he should marry in their life-time. 
 Elizabeth Tibbs was the young woman to whom 
 his affections inclined ; and having weightily con- 
 sidered this important matter, and looked for 
 direction from Him who endueth with wisdom 
 to direct, he applied, gained the consent of all 
 
JOHN BARCROFT. 149 
 
 concerned, and was united to the object of his 
 choice in 1685. In a few years they experienced 
 the distress which arose from the civil commotions 
 in this nation, in which they lost most of their 
 horses, and other cattle ; and while the plunderers 
 made repeated visits to them, Elizabeth Barcroft 
 often enquired if they had taken all, hoping, when 
 all was gone, to be relieved from this distress. 
 Depressed and alarmed, as were both husband 
 and wife, the spirits of both sunk not at the same 
 time; thus one was enabled to cheer the other, 
 and this they esteemed a favour from their great 
 Protector. Thus says John Barcroft's narrative: 
 *' After our stock was mostly gone, the Ulster- 
 Irish came in great numbers, spreading over the 
 country, like a disorderly camp, filling our houses 
 with their officers, without order ot billets; and 
 many dying of a violent fever that was amongst 
 them, were buried in ditches. Yet in all those peril- 
 ous times, except one first day of the week, we 
 diligently kept up and attended our religious 
 meetings for the worship of Almighty God; and 
 his bowing, tender power, was often eminently en- 
 joyed, to the comfort of our drooping spirits. 
 But on the said first-day that we staid from meet- 
 ing, (not thinking it safe to leave our servants with 
 the throng of Irish officers in the house, and the 
 camp near us,) I viewed the guests, as they were 
 sitting about my table; and the remembrance of 
 my ancient, honourable friends, that had sat about 
 it, came fresh into my mind, and I cried in my 
 
150 JOHN BARCROFT. 
 
 heart unto the Lord, Shall I ever see such times 
 again ? and received an answer, I should. Then 
 I renewed covenant with the Lord, that, if he 
 would bring it to pass, I would serve him all my 
 days, according to the ability he would be pleased 
 to give me." 
 
 The tumult increasing, fire and sword spread- 
 ing devastation through the country, and his stock 
 mostly gone, John Barcroft removed to the neigh- 
 bourhood of Dublin, for a few months; but re- 
 fusing advantageous offers made to him, in case 
 of his remaining there, he returned when the war 
 was over, and settled at Arkhill, near Edenderry, 
 though the marks of desolation were there, part 
 of the town burnt, and many of his friends dead, 
 or scattered. William Chandlee alone remained, 
 who had passed the winter, with his family, in his 
 windmill; and his and John Barcroft's families 
 met together for some time, before any joined 
 them. But he says, " I was earnestly concerned 
 to help many Friends to places to dwell in, which 
 was an enlargement to the meeting, and comfort to 
 me ; and many heavenly, comfortable seasons we 
 have had therein, the glory of the Lord shining 
 clearly amongst us : praises be given to his great 
 name!" 
 
 In the year 1696, John Barcroft first appeared 
 as a minister, after many struggles in his mind, 
 between the modesty and diffidence of his nature, 
 his fears of falling into the error of words without 
 life, and his dread of disobeying the heavenly 
 
JOHN BARCROFT. 151 
 
 commission, and incurring the wo denounced, if 
 he did not preach the gospel. 
 
 He had now to travel abroad, on errands of 
 love, and, after visiting several meetings in his own 
 land, felt it his duty to go to England, on like ser- 
 vice, without knowing of any companion. He 
 would gladly have been excused from this under- 
 taking, and was desirous the work should be trans- 
 ferred to some abler and more experienced ser- 
 vant; but he found it was his own business, and 
 he entered upon it, much comforted by Thomas 
 Wilson's company to Lonuon, but he was obliged 
 to leave him there. However, other Friends went 
 with him to different meetings; and, in the course 
 of his journey, he paid a satisfactory visit to his 
 cousin Daniel Barnard, of Sheffield, who, with 
 his fimily, some years after, joined Friends. 
 
 On his return, he met vrith his friend Thomas 
 Wilson, unexpectedly ; and thus he describes their 
 affectionate meeting: " We met to our great com- 
 fort, acquainting each other how v/e had fared, 
 with gladness and thanksgiving to the Lord God, 
 and to the Lamb Christ Jesus, who had accounted 
 us worthy to be concerned in publishing the gos- 
 pel of life and salvation." 
 
 After staying awhile together, they separated 
 again, for the gospel's sake, both returning home 
 nearly at the same time: they were neighbours, 
 and much united. *' I had great openings," says 
 John Barcroft, " in the time of this journey, both 
 in doctrine and discipline; the latter being greatly 
 
152 JOHN BARCROFT. 
 
 wanted in many places; and my spirit travailed 
 deeply, that good order might be set up and 
 maintained in the church of Christ, and disorder 
 kept out." This was in the year 1700. He was 
 engaged frequently in labours of this kind, in this 
 nation and in England, his dear wife encouraging 
 him therein; and afterwards, becoming a minister 
 herself, she sometimes accompanied him in those 
 journeys. Another interview with his cousin Bar- 
 nard, after they had joined his society, he gives 
 this account of: *^ Upon seeing each other our 
 hearts were mightily broken; so that, for some 
 tune, we could say nothing, but sate down, 
 and tears of joy flowed from us. After awhile^ 
 we spoke one to another, of the great love 
 and mercy of God in Jesus Christ, extended 
 to them and their family, and in making me 
 instrumental for their good; the Lord having 
 been pleased to turn them from darkness, to the 
 light of Christ in their own hearts, and to call 
 some of them, as at the eleventh hour of their 
 day. Mary, their daughter, particularly express- 
 ed her having benefited greatly by my former 
 visit, when she was about twelve years old ; being 
 occupied often after with religious thoughts, and 
 greatly desirous to see me again." 
 
 John Barcroft underwent the trial of losing two 
 children, while he was from home, at difterent 
 periods of time. These afflictions, though pa- 
 tiently borne, were deeply felt; for the natural 
 affections ^-e not deadened in the pious heart, 
 however it may be enabled to keep them in sub- 
 
JOHN BARCROFT. 158 
 
 ordination. Of this good man it is testified, that 
 " few, if any, exceeded him in love and tenderness 
 as a husband, in care and affection as a father, 
 or in gentleness and equity as a master." A na- 
 tive meekness and courtesy of manners, united to 
 a good and cultivated understanding, fitted him 
 for the office of peace-maker; an office which he 
 always sincerely, and often successfully exercised. 
 He was compassionate to the poor, and, having no 
 inconsiderable portion of medical skill, was very- 
 serviceable to his neighbours in that respect; 
 prompt to visit the sick, to comfort the afflicted, 
 and assist with his sound judgment, those who 
 stood in need of advice. Thus lived and died 
 this worthy and amiable man, being called away 
 by a short illness. He lay in sweet composure, 
 saying, his life was shortening fast; desired those 
 about him to be still, and, as one falhng asleep, 
 gently departed from hfe, the 24th of 11th month, 
 1 723, in the sixtieth year of his age. 
 
 Solicitous for the comfort and accommodatioji 
 of his wife, in the circumstance of her out-living 
 him, John Barcroft built a house for her in Balli- 
 tore, where he had made a purchase of lands, and 
 where her only surviving daughter, Deborah, was 
 settled, with her husband, Henry Fuller. Hither 
 Elizabeth Barcroft removed, on the death of her 
 husband, and here she spent the remainder of her 
 life. When the pains and weakness of approach- 
 ing dissolution laid hold of her, she besought her 
 H 3 
 
Ui 
 
 THOMAS WIGHT. 
 
 daughter and grand-children to restrain their grief; 
 reverently adding, that she was fully assured of 
 her well-being, and saw nothing in her way, being 
 wholly resigned to the will of God. She enforced 
 the duty of sincere resignation and obedience; 
 saying, Disobedience caused a long wilderness: 
 and desired that none might neglect the work of 
 their salvation, on consideration of their youth; 
 for they knew not how short their time in this un- 
 certain world might be. She expressed her love 
 to her son-in-law, Henry Fuller, whose bodily 
 afflictions had often excited her sympathy; and 
 wisely and tenderly counselled her grand-children, 
 acknowledged the goodness of her Creator, which 
 she had experienced from the age of eight years 
 to that time, and said : " It is a blessed thing to 
 have one's peace made with God, on a sick bed." 
 
 She died the l^th of 7th month, 1740, aged 
 seventy-three. 
 
 From " Rutty 's Hise and Progress," " John Barcroft's 
 Journal," and a MS. respecting Elizabeth Barcroft. 
 
 THOMAS WIGHT. 
 
 Thomas Wight, son of Rice Wight, of Bandon, 
 was born in the year 1640. His father was strict 
 in the education of his children, and appears to 
 have been a sincere-hearted man. 
 
THOMAS WIGHT. 155 
 
 While he was an apprentice, Thomas Wight 
 went to a meeting of the society of Friends, actu- 
 ated by motives of curiosity, and, in the tune of 
 silence, which continued long, became uneasy ; re- 
 calling to his mind the report that he had heard 
 of these people being witches, and fearing their 
 influence on himself. Yet he remained there, and 
 heard Francis Howgill, who rose with these words ; 
 "Before the eye can see, it must be opened; be- 
 fore the ear can hear, it must be unstopped; and 
 before the heart can understand, it must be illu- 
 minated." These sentences, as the speaker ex- 
 plained them to the congregation, with great 
 clearness and energy, made a deep impression on 
 the mind of the young man, and he became, in a 
 great measure, convinced of the truth of the doc- 
 trine preached; but the prejudice of education, 
 and the reproach which he experienced from his 
 relations for going to the meeting, weakened the 
 impressions he had received. 
 
 After this, Edward Burrough came into Ire- 
 land, on a religious visit ; and Thomas Wight be- 
 ing witness to his powerful preaching, accom- 
 panied by the evidence of truth, was no longer 
 able to withstand it, and resolved, through Divine 
 assistance, to be faithful to what he believed was 
 required of him, notwithstanding all the difficul- 
 ties which he foresaw he v/ould have to encounter. 
 He bore the contempt and reproaches of his rela- 
 tions and acquaintance with patience, not run- 
 ning into unnecessary disputations; but cultivat- 
 
156 
 
 THOMAS WIGHT. 
 
 ing, in silence and solitude, those feelings which 
 conduced to his peace. When he assumed the 
 plain garb, and spoke the plain language of 
 Friends, the displeasure of his family increased, 
 and he was at length rejected by them ; therefore, 
 after the expiration of his apprenticeship, he con- 
 tinued with his master, whose esteem he had 
 gained by his strict integrity. 
 
 In the year 1670 he married, and, exerting his 
 industry and abilities to provide for a growing 
 family, was so successful in business, that he might 
 have obtained much wealth, had he not been 
 checked in his pursuit by the internal monitor, 
 whose warning voice convinced that he could not 
 be heir of two kingdoms. Therefore, making a 
 wise choice, he devoted less of his time and 
 thoughts to worldly concerns, and more to the 
 service of the rehgious society to which he be- 
 longed. He was clerk to the monthly meeting of 
 Cork, and also to the province of Munster, from 
 the year 1680 till his death. He was the person 
 principally concerned in compiling an historical 
 account of the rise and progress of the society of 
 Friends in this nation, which was revised and con- 
 tinued by John Rutty, M. D. Exemplary in his 
 life and conversation, in the education of his chil- 
 dren, in the attendance of particular and general 
 meetings, Thomas Wight lived in good esteem, 
 and died in great composure and resignation, ex- 
 pressing his happiness in not having deferred the 
 
HANNAH PHILIPS. 157 
 
 great affair of his soul's salvation to a death-bed, 
 and in his assurance of it. 
 
 He died in the year 1724, aged eighty-four. 
 
 From " Ruttj's Rise and Progress," and " Piety Promoted," 
 seventh part. 
 
 HANNAH PHILIPS. 
 
 Hannah Philips, bornin 1680, was the wife of John 
 Philips, of Limerick. She was a woman of an exem- 
 plary Hfe and innocent conversation, of few words 
 and a retired mind : being prepared, she became 
 enabled to exhort others to choose the good and 
 refuse the evil. 
 
 In the time of her ilhiess she was comforted by 
 the affectionate sympathy of her friends, to whom 
 she expressed her love, desiring that the Lord 
 might be with them, and prepare them for such a 
 time as this. 
 
 She prayed for her family and children; and, 
 continuing in much sweetness to the very last, de- 
 parted, in great peace, in the 11th month, 1724, 
 aged about forty-four. A minister two years. 
 
 From " Piety Promoted," seventh part. 
 
158 
 
 THOMAS WILSON. 
 
 Thomas Wilson was born in Cumberland, about 
 the year 1655. He was seriously disposed from 
 his youth, and very strict in the observance of the 
 rites and ceremonies of the Church of England, 
 in which profession he was educated ; yet, in the 
 time of singing psalms, a thoughtfulness, that men 
 should become holy, before they could rightly sing 
 to the praise and glory of God, made him more 
 and more dissatisfied with the precepts of men's 
 making, and he longed to be able to worship in 
 spirit and in truth. At a meeting of the religious 
 society of Friends, an exhortation to inward wait- 
 ing upon the Lord in faith, to receive power from 
 him over every unclean thought, by which hea- 
 venly power they might glorify and praise the 
 holy name of the Lord, through the ability of his 
 own free gift, touched the young man's heart; and 
 he said in himself, " This is what I greatly wanted," 
 power against every vain thought and idle word. 
 From this time he united himself to Friends, and 
 became, in a short time, a minister among them; 
 visiting several counties in England, in that capa- 
 city, and, in 16S2, coming into Ireland on hke ser- 
 vice. 
 
 After having sate a meeting in Dublin, and it 
 being enquired whither he intended to go, he an- 
 
THOMAS WILSON. 159 
 
 swered, that he had a deshe to see some Friends 
 that dwelt between the west and the north ; but 
 on being told that it was not Hkely he would meet 
 with any there, he was discouraged, and fearful lest 
 he should have been mistaken, in what he thought 
 was a Divine impulse towards that place ; but a 
 friend, named Abraham Fuller, speaking to him, 
 and telling him that he lived near the middle of 
 Ireland, invited him to accompany him to Eden- 
 derry, where was a settlement of Friends. He ac- 
 cepted the invitation, had peace in so doing, and 
 in sitting a meetin;^ with Friends there. 
 
 Next day, as they journeyed forward, Abraham 
 asked his young friend if he understood the com- 
 pass; and receiving for answer that he did not, 
 reminded him of what he had heard him say in 
 Dublin, respecting his draught to places between 
 the west and north ; the truth of which was now 
 confirmed, as in that direction lay the meetings he 
 was now visiting. This satisfied his mind, as to 
 the rectitude of his feeling, yet he was in nowise 
 exalted thereby; and at the province meeting of 
 Castledermot, took his seat low in the meeting, 
 not following the other ministering friends into 
 the gallery. The lower rank of the people, at 
 those times, were very rude: several of that de- 
 scription were present, and thronged about the 
 place where Thomas Wilson sate. Feeling him- 
 self called upon to address the people, he rose, 
 and " Friends were," as he expressed, ^' sore afraid 
 that my appearance would have been hurtful; but 
 
160 THOMAS WILSON. 
 
 it proved otherwise, to their great satisfaction ;" 
 and the stranger-youth was enabled to convince 
 his friends of the pure spring from whence his 
 doctrine proceeded. The rude people v/ere quiet- 
 ed; and he adds, " the Lord's heavenly power did 
 shine forth gloriously, under a weighty sense 
 whereof the meeting concluded." 
 
 After visiting Friends in the county of Wex- 
 ford and county of Wicklow, he felt a restraint in 
 his mind from going further; therefore entered 
 into the business of harvest, at Lambstov/n, in the 
 county of Wexford, where Robert Cuppage, a 
 friend in the ministry, dwelt, who, having a con- 
 cern to visit Friends in Munster province, desired 
 to have Thomas Wilson for his companion; but 
 he, not finding the command to go forth, declined 
 accompanying his said friend, and continued in his 
 employment. Soon after this, James Dickenson, 
 from Cumberland, came with intention to visit 
 Friends in Munster; with whose concern Thomas 
 Wilson uniting, they travelled together, " in true 
 brotherly-love, great humility, and godly fear," 
 being both young, and distrustful of themselves. 
 They parted at Waterford, James Dickenson go- 
 ing northward; but Thomas was afraid of run- 
 ning before his true guide; "because," according 
 to his own words, " they who run, and are not 
 sent of God, can neither profit the people nor 
 themselves." Therefore, remaining at work in or 
 near the city of Waterford, he spent about four 
 months there, and joined his friend James Dick- 
 
THOMAS WILSON. 161 
 
 enson in Dublin, and, after the half-year's meet- 
 ing, returned with him to England. 
 
 These young men soon began to experience 
 some of the opposition with which their elder 
 brethren were so well acquainted. At Kendal, 
 visiting the meeting there, some persons came 
 to disturb them, and rudely took James Dicken- 
 son out. The powerful preaching of his com- 
 panion for awhile quieted them; but they assailed 
 him afterwards, and pulled him to the door. He 
 queried of one of those violent persons, whether 
 he was a believer in Jesus Christ or not; and on 
 his answering that he was, and also in the apos- 
 tles' doctrine, Thomas Wilson told him that he 
 had never read that Christ or his apostles entered 
 into religious assemblies, and disturbed them, as 
 he had done; except Paul, alias Saul, before he 
 knew the Lord Jesus Christ, who afterwards call- 
 ed himself the chief of sinners. Then recom- 
 mending him to consider this, sate down again ; 
 and James Dickenson kneeling down in prayer, 
 the meeting concluded with a sweet solemnity. 
 
 Again, at Redstone, they met with interruption ; 
 and an attempt was made to drag James off his 
 knees^ while engaged in prayer, by the person 
 who had informed against them, and who theat- 
 ened, afterwards, to take Thomas Wilson before a 
 magistrate. Thomas calmly remonstrated, that he 
 came in the true love of Christ to visit them, and 
 bore nothing but love and good-will towards them 
 all; appealing to the informer, by asking him 
 
|6£ THOMAS WILSON. 
 
 whether, if he were on a journey, and should be 
 thus reqmred to appear before a justice, without 
 a justice's warrant, would he not think it unmanly 
 to obey? Thus mildly addressed, the man was 
 taken by surprise, and answered, to be sure he 
 would, and, on being desired to consider their 
 case, rode away. This informer was severe upon 
 Friends, causing heavy fines to be laid upon them, 
 though, by one means or other, they were not ex- 
 acted ; and the death of Charles the Second put 
 a stop to these violent proceedings, which had so 
 long harassed them. " The God of Peace," says 
 Thomas Wilson, " rebuked the storm." 
 
 At a meeting at Oxford, where Thomas went 
 in the course of his services, were a great number 
 of the scholars, who, talking to each other, and 
 fixing their eyes rudely upon him, said that he 
 would preach, on which he addressed them: " Sit 
 down, young men ; we shall be glad of your com- 
 pany, so long as you are civil." They sate down, 
 listened attentively while he explained the doc- 
 trine of regeneration, and withdrew quietly. 
 
 After several journeys in his native land, in the 
 intervals of which he v/as diligent in his outward 
 occupations, Thomas Wilson, and his friend James 
 Dickenson, having the concurrence of their friends, 
 embarked for America, though in perilous times ; 
 the French nation being at war with England, 
 and their fleet out at sea. Each of these devoted 
 servants had a foresight of the dangers which en- 
 compassed them on their voyage, and of their de- 
 
THOMAS WILSON. IGS 
 
 liverance from them. They experienced this, for 
 the French fleet pursued, and fired upon them ; 
 but a mist arising between them and their pursu- 
 ers, was the means of their preservation, while all 
 the other vessels in company were captured, ex- 
 cept two. These came up with their ship, and 
 they met with mutual joy. By the captain's invi- 
 tation, most of those on board them came into 
 his ship ; and a meeting was held, in which grati- 
 tude for their great deliverance was felt and ex- 
 pressed. 
 
 When they came into the latitude of Barbadoes, 
 another armed vessel gave them chase : it was con- 
 cluded to fight, and preparation made for an 
 engagement. The captain, knowing it was a 
 matter of conscience which restrained his Quaker 
 passengers from joining in the warfare, kindly de- 
 sired tliem to go to the doctor, if they pleased ; at 
 which the other passengers were enraged, and 
 said they deserved to be shot to death. But they, 
 who w^ere not influenced in their forbearance by 
 the fear of death, chose to remain on the quarter- 
 deck with the captain, to the surprise and con- 
 fusion of those who were ready to condemn them. 
 When the ship came up, it proved to be an Eng- 
 lish man-of-w^ar, and they landed safely in Barba- 
 does: though on this journey they met with 
 dangers and diflOiculties, both by land and sea; 
 having, beside the before-mentioned danger, nar- 
 rowly escaped a privateer, and also by means of 
 a mist. They were also near being shipwrecked, 
 
164 THOMAS WILSON. 
 
 and, on landing, travelled through the country 
 while the Indian war raged around them ; and had 
 to encounter George Keith, who, having separated 
 himself from that society to which he was once 
 attached, became one of its bitterest enemies: yet 
 they felt the supports of faith and patience, and 
 obtained the reward of peace; with which they 
 returned, after an absence of two years, in 1693. 
 
 In the year 1695, Thomas Wilson married 
 Mary, the daughter of Thomas Bewley, of Wood- 
 hall, in Cumberland, who was to him a true help- 
 meet. Having for some time had a view towards 
 Edenderry, for a settlement, to which place his 
 first journey in Ireland had been directed, he re- 
 moved thither soon after his marriage, and settled 
 amongst honest, tender-hearted Friends, to whom 
 both he and his wife were affectionately united. 
 He did not, however, remain long in the enjoy- 
 ment of home ; being often engaged in labours of 
 love, amongst his friends and the people in gene- 
 ral. 
 
 In the year 1713, he visited America a second 
 time, with his old companion and dear friend, 
 James Dickenson. He says: *' We took our 
 voyage north about; and after I had seen the 
 captains* diligent care and good conduct in his 
 ship, amongst his servants and those on board, 
 it drew my heart towards him, in very much love, 
 and gave me encouragement to take the freedom 
 
 • Richard Kelsv, of Whitehaven. 
 
THOMAS WILSON. 165 
 
 of having some religious discourse with him; 
 wherein I found he aimed at justice and equity, 
 so that my love increased towards him ; and he 
 beino^ a man frequent in praying, we entered into 
 discourse of the substantial part of prayer. I told 
 him, we could not pray at all times in words, 
 knowing our own insufficiency ; but v/aited for the 
 assistance of the holy spirit to help us, and guide 
 our understanding, having regard to what the 
 apostle said: *I will pray with the spirit, and with 
 the understanding also;' which might be inwardly 
 performed, although no words were outwardly 
 spoken. To which he readily assented ; and told 
 us we might keep our meetings in the great 
 cabin, at any time, when they did not keep theirs, 
 and said he thought we did pray inwardly. Now, 
 though we had a storm in this passage, for near 
 a month together, yet the captain's prudent ma- 
 nagement of the ship, and showing himself so very 
 respectful to us all along, and the good conversa- 
 tion we had together, made our voyage much the 
 pleasanter." 
 
 In their travelling they met with a Baptist preach- 
 er, who, addressing Thomas, asked him: " What is 
 the ordination and qualification of a true minister 
 of Jesus Christ?" He was answered in the words 
 of the apostle : " As every man hath received the 
 gift, even so minister the same one to another, 
 as good stewards of the manifold grace of God. 
 If any man speak, let him speak as the oracles of 
 God ; if any man minister, let him do it as of the 
 
166 THOMAS WILSON. 
 
 ability which God giveth : that God, in all things, 
 may be glorified, through Jesus Christ;" and thus 
 Thomas Wilson mildly told him he might see that 
 the ability of a true minister is in the Divine gift. 
 The Baptist then enquired : " Can any man who 
 hath this Divine gifr, positively deny the com- 
 mand of our Lord Jesus Christ?" Thomas re-' 
 plied, that no man that was faithful to this holy 
 gift, durst deny the commands of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ. " But;' said he, '' you do." " How 
 comest thou to charge me thus?" said Thomas: 
 " What hast thou seen by me, to charge me with 
 denying the commands of Jesus Christ?" "I 
 know," said his opponent, " you are a Quaker, 
 and that all the Quakers deny the positive com- 
 mand of Jesus Christ;" and being called upon to 
 prove this, he proceeded : " You deny water-bap- 
 tism, which Jesus Christ commanded to be an ordi- 
 nance in his church, to the end of the world." He 
 was desired to prove his assertion, it not appearing 
 that ever Jesus Christ gave any commands to his 
 ministers to baptize with elementary v/ater. On 
 this, he repeated many scriptures, quoting chapter 
 and verse ; but, on comparing them with the text, 
 nothing was found to prove water-baptism to be a 
 command of Jesus Christ, and a standing ordi- 
 nance in the church. He was warned of the 
 danger of adding to the Scriptures; the nature of 
 the true baptism of Jesus Christ, which is with 
 the Holy Ghost and with fire, was explained; " the 
 
THOMAS WILSON. 167 
 
 truth came over him," and they parted in friend- 
 ship. 
 
 After having performed an acceptable visit on 
 the American continent, Thomas Wilson and 
 James Dickenson took their passage in a home- 
 ward-bound vessel, yet were desirous to have one 
 meeting more. This the master of the ship pre- 
 vented; but after encountering a storm at sea, and 
 the ship springing a leak, he had to return, and 
 thus gave them opportunity of visiting some other 
 meetings, beside that which they had been pre- 
 vented from attending. After which, embarking 
 in another ship, they made their voyage to Cork 
 in safety, and reached the province meeting, then 
 held at Mountmelhck; entering the meeting where 
 Friends were gathered, before their landing was 
 known. 
 
 Thus did Thomas Wilson continue diligent in 
 his Master's work, both in public testimony, and 
 in zealously maintaining the disciphne of the so- 
 ciety, fulfilHng the character given him by Friends 
 of Leinster province. He was a nursing father 
 in the church, cherishing the good in all, particu- 
 larly the young and weak in the ministry, who 
 were gifted and called thereto; and rejoiced in 
 that the Lord had raised up such, both in this 
 nation and elsewhere; and though he was an ho- 
 nourable elder, yet very humble and condescend- 
 ing, as a servant to all, grave and reserved in de- 
 portment, often bowed under exercise of spirit, 
 yet, at seasonable times, cheerful in conversation. 
 
168 THOMAS WILSON. 
 
 He was an able minister of the gospel, and was 
 careful not to travel abroad in that service, with- 
 out the unity of the brethren; and when he found 
 himself clear, returned speedily to his outward 
 abode, and was diligent in his lawful vocation of 
 husbandry, for the good of his family, wherein the 
 Lord blessed his endeavours with prosperity and 
 plenty. 
 
 The narrative of his Hfe, written by himself, 
 and brought down to the year 1724, concludes 
 thus: " Now I rejoice in that I have served the 
 Lord in my day; and, as I have laboured to pro- 
 mote the truth in my generation, I feel great peace 
 from the Lord flowing in my soul, and am thank- 
 ful that I have been made willing to serve him. 
 And as my dear wife, being a woman that truly 
 fears God, hath freely given me up, to answer the 
 requirings of truth, I hope she will have a share 
 in that reward and peace whereof the Lord hath 
 given me the earnest; and whereas I have deeply 
 travailed, both in body and spirit, for the promo- 
 tion of truth in the earth, in a general way ; so I 
 have also often besought the Lord, that he would 
 be pleased to reach, effectually, to my own chil- 
 dren in particular, that they may be faithful wit- 
 nesses for him, in their generation." 
 
 Towards the conclusion of the year 1724, Tho- 
 mas Wilson became indisposed, and continued so 
 some months ; at times enduring much pain, and 
 desiring to be released from his sufferings, if his 
 Lord had no further service for him to do, yet 
 
JOSEPH PIKE. 169 
 
 resigned to his will, and, eminent as he had been 
 in his day, when its close drew near, he said: 
 ** Although the Lord hath made use of me at 
 times, to be serviceable in his hand, what I trust 
 in is, the mercy of God in Jesus Christ." He ex- 
 pressed his solicitude that Friends might dwell in 
 humility, and keep low; for that, to his sorrow, 
 he had seen many who grew high, come to ruin, 
 both themselves and their posterity, and their 
 places left desolate. 
 
 His desire to have an easy passage was granted 
 to him : he was sensible to the last; and, without 
 sigh or groan, as if he had been going to sleep, he 
 passed away, the SOth of 3d month, 1725, aged 
 seventy. 
 
 From " Thomas Wilson's Journal," and " Eutty's Rise and 
 Progress.'* 
 
 JOSEPH PIKE. 
 
 Joseph Pike was born of religious parents, Rich- 
 ard and Elizabeth Pike, in the county of Cork, the 
 15th of 11th month, 1657. His father, Richard 
 Pike, came to Ireland in a military capacity, and 
 was highly valued, not only for his great courage, 
 I 
 
no JOSEPH PIKE, 
 
 but for his integrity and sobriety, which, united to 
 a modest diffidence of temper, gained him the 
 esteem and love of his acquaintance. He appears 
 to have settled in Ireland about that time. Soon 
 after his marriage to Elizabeth Jackson, a native 
 of England, they both joined the society of 
 Friends, being convinced of the truth which that 
 society professed, by the ministry of Edward Bur- 
 rough, in the year 1655 ; in consequence whereof, 
 they were partakers with those who suffered for 
 conscience sake, and in the year 1668, apparently 
 by reason of a long and close imprisonment, Rich- 
 ard Pike became dangerously ill, and the jailer 
 offered him leave to go to his own house till his 
 health should be amended, on condition of his ap- 
 pearing when called for. He accepted the offer. 
 His weakness increased, but his spirit was strength- 
 ened by the power of Him whom he served, and 
 his love so overflowed towards his late companions 
 in the prison, that, appearing to be endued with 
 supernatural ability, he rose from his sick bed, and 
 went to visit them in their house of bondage, and 
 sat with them in their religious meeting, (for 
 they held meetings there,) much to his own and 
 their comfort. The jailer permitted him, in the 
 evening, to return to his family, who rejoiced in 
 this exertion, as a proof of recovery. It proved, 
 however, to be his last fiirewell to his dear friends ; 
 and his complaint returning, after counselling his 
 own family and others with his dying breath, he 
 expired, in the 4th month, 1668, in the forty-first 
 
JOSEPH PIKE, 171 
 
 year of his age, greatly beloved and lamented ; a 
 loving husband, a tender father, and a true friend; 
 and even some of the greatest persecutors were 
 heard to say, if there was an honest man among 
 the Quakers, he was one. 
 
 It was advised that, as he was a prisoner, liis 
 corpse should be carried to the jail, and offered to 
 the jailer; accordingly this was done, and on the 
 jailer's refusing to receive the body, it was interred 
 in Friends' burying-ground, outside the south 
 gate of Cork, being the first buried there; and at 
 his grave there was read a paper, containing many 
 sweet and heavenly expressions, uttered by him on his 
 death-bed. His son Joseph, then in his twelfth 
 year, was affected even to agony at the separation 
 from such a father, whose dying words pierced his 
 young heart, still susceptible ; though he had at 
 that time much lost the tenderness which made the- 
 happiness of his early childhood, resulting from 
 the attention he paid to the reproofs of his inward 
 monitor. When that relaxed, he yielded to the 
 temptations incident to his age; and fondness for 
 play introducing him into the company of wild 
 boys, he was injured by such associates, yet not 
 hardened ; for he was sensible of his transgres- 
 sions, and made resolutions to avoid occasions to 
 transgress. " But," said he, " these resolutions 
 came to nothing, being taken in my own strength." 
 About the age of thirteen, the ministry of William 
 Edmundson was instrumental to work a change in 
 liis youthful heart, and he adds: " Notwithstand- 
 1 2 
 
172 JOSEPH PIKE. 
 
 ing all my former promises and resolutions had 
 come to nothing, yet, after the baptizing power of 
 the Lord had so seized upon me, I had perfect 
 power and dominion over those temptations, that 
 had so often prevailed upon me before." Again 
 there was a backsliding, a love of worldly gratifi- 
 cations, among which an inclination to gaiety in 
 dress was a snare; and though he maintained a- 
 moral conduct, he did not sufficiently attend to the 
 influence of that power and love which brings pre- 
 servation and peace. But, at the age of eighteen, 
 he became again obedient to the heavenly vision, and 
 after much inward suffering, regained a degree of 
 divine favour. 
 
 Before he was twenty years of age, he was 
 invited to sit in the meetings for discipline ; (not 
 then, as now, open to all who are members of the 
 society of Friends ;) and being convinced of the 
 excellence and good order maintained there, he 
 was firmly bound in his spirit to support it. In 
 1677, he was present at the meeting between 
 George Fox and others of his friends, and the 
 Separatists, of whom William Rogers was the chief 
 speaker. They accused George Fox with being 
 an innovator, in establishing women's meetings, and 
 giving forth new rules, orders, and degrees to the 
 churches ; in which they said he endeavoured to 
 make himself a lord and ruler over the consciences 
 of the Lord's heritage, by his giving forth such 
 form and orders, which they called the prescrip- 
 tions of men, and an imposition upon their con- 
 
JOSEPH PIKE. 173 
 
 sciences ; while all ought to see for themselves, and 
 be left to their own freedom and liberty, and to the 
 measure of the gift in themselves, and not be tied 
 up to such outward forms. Though Wilham Ro- 
 gers was an eloquent man, and provided with 
 store of argument, the sincerity and innocency of 
 George Fox triumphed ; and many, beside Joseph 
 Pike, " were fully convinced that he was a true ser- 
 vant of Jesus Christ, and what his opponents called 
 outward forms and prescriptions, were given forth 
 in and through the moving of the power of 
 the Lord; and that his opposers were in a 
 wrong and dividing spirit, that tended to latitude 
 and liberty, and to the laying aside all disciphne 
 and government in the church." 
 
 A young man, named Samuel Randall, coming 
 to settle in Cork, Joseph Pike found in him a kin- 
 dred mind ; and as their acquaintance increased, 
 their attachment became more intimate ; their hearts 
 opened to each other: their conversation being 
 solid, instructive, and free from levity, was a stream 
 of unalloyed delight ; and Joseph Pike bears tes- 
 timony, that in all the time of their familiar inter- 
 course, (forty years,) he does not remember to have 
 heard him utter one idle or frothy word. This 
 sacred union of pious hearts, resembled that which 
 bound together the souls of Jonathan and David. 
 In a few years they were connected by a tie of af- 
 finity, by marrying: Joseph Pike, in 168^, to 
 Elizabeth Rogers, and Samuel Randall, in 1683, 
 to Rebecca Atkins, who were first cousins; and 
 
174 JOSEPH PIKE. 
 
 both having sought for divine direction in thi&' 
 most important step, were blest with excellent 
 wives. 
 
 Travelling in England on business, in 1681, 
 these young men came to Bristol, in a time of hofe 
 persecution there, in which Friends' meeting- 
 houses were shut up. They met v*^ith the few 
 who assembled at the meeting-house door, not de- 
 terred by the danger of imprisonment, and were, 
 for a short time, imprisoned. Afterwards they 
 visited the Friends who were thus detained, by 
 whose example of patience they were edified and 
 comforted. In a journey of Joseph Pike's, on mer- 
 cantile affairs, to Holland, he had the advantage of 
 accompanying William Penn, and of meeting se- 
 veral other Friends at the yearly meeting held at 
 Amsterdam. He was also kindly noticed by 
 George Fox, of whom he says : " He was a sweet- 
 spirited, innocent man ; yet very zealous for truth, 
 and sharp against apostates, hypocrites, and liber- 
 tines." Joseph Pike's business occasioned him to 
 repeat his journeys into Holland, and also into 
 Flanders and England ; " in which," he says, "the 
 Lord preserved me, and his holy spirit led me to 
 be solid and grave in my conversation; and I was 
 careful and fearful therein, lest I should dishonour 
 the Lord's holy truth, and be a stumbling block to 
 either professors or profane." Humble, and not 
 depending on the esteem which his character ob- 
 tained, his deference to his superiors in age and 
 experience is thus expressed : " I always had a 
 
JOSEPH PIKE. 175 
 
 great regard to the sense and judgment of faithful 
 elders, in and out of meetings for business ; and if 
 at any time I did not see through the things they 
 proposed, I was apt to question my own opinion .. 
 for I never did, as I remember, directly oppose my 
 sense and judgment to theirs, either in mind, 
 words, or facts ; but acquiesced in theirs, and was 
 afraid to do otherwise, as believing their growth 
 in the truth to be greater than mine, and that they 
 saw further into the things of God than I did. 
 And this I found, by after experience, was safest, 
 and of benefit to me, and will be for all young 
 men ; for the very same things I could not see 
 through, in my further experience came to be 
 opened to me by the hght of the truth, and I saw 
 they were in the right, and so far as I was of a 
 different opinion, I was mistaken; from whence, 
 by experience, I s^w how dangerous a thing it wa* 
 to oppose elders/' 
 
 In 1G88, Joseph Pike was a partaker in the dis- 
 tress and alarm which the landing of James II. 
 with a French army, occasioned in Ireland ; yet 
 he and some other Friends were not satisfied, with- 
 out attending the national meeting held in Dubhn, 
 though the distance from Cork was great, as was 
 the danger; the high road being thronged with the 
 military, who might consider and treat them as 
 enemies, and the country infested by the Rapa- 
 rees, a banditti, whose aim was indiscriminate 
 plunder. Those Friends took a circuitous jour- 
 ney by the sea-side, believing it safest, though not 
 
176 JOSEPH PIKE. 
 
 without peril; but they were willing to hazard their 
 lives in the performance of this duty, and were re- 
 warded by the love and gladness with which 
 Friends met them, and still more by peace in their 
 own bosoms. In 1690, Cork, then in possession of 
 the army of the deposed king, was besieged by 
 the English troops. It was a time of great suffer- 
 ing to the citizens, by loss of goods and fears for 
 their lives. The Protestant inhabitants were con- 
 fined in prisons and houses, deprived of their 
 arms, and guarded to prevent their joining the 
 English troops, should they take the city by storm ; 
 but Friends were permitted to go at large, no ap- 
 prehensions being excited by them. The death 
 of the English commander, the duke of Grafton, 
 by a wound received from the walls, and the ca* 
 pitulation of the city, prevented this terrible 
 attempt. Yet, afterwards^, sickness prevailing, 
 trade interrupted, and the ferment of discord not 
 yet subsided, Joseph Pike and Samuel Randall 
 were induced, with the assent of Friends, to leave 
 the city for some time. Accordingly, Joseph Pike, 
 with his family, removed to Bristol, and Samuel 
 Randall, with his, went by sea to the county of 
 Wexford; the vessels which conveyed them sailing 
 together out of the harbour. After a year's stay 
 in England, Joseph Pike returned, as did Samuel 
 Randall soon after. They met with mutual joy 
 and comfort ; " for," says Joseph Pike, " we were 
 near to one another in the covenant of life:" and 
 in their " sweet communion together," they found 
 
JOSEPH PIKE. UK 
 
 that they had felt a corresponding concern for the 
 support of the disciphne in their native land, 
 which strongly urged them to return, and "join, 
 with heart and soul," other faithful Friends, to pro- 
 mote a reformation; many things creeping in, and 
 having crept into a society professing purity and 
 simpHcity, which contradicted this profession: 
 and as superfluities in apparel and furniture were 
 among the outward marks of degeneracy, they put 
 away all such things from their own families and 
 houses, and then solemnly proceeded in the work 
 to which they were appointed. 
 
 Of their procedure, Joseph Pike's own words 
 convey an impressive account: " We first met to- 
 gether, being six or seven in number, and after 
 waiting for a time in silence upon the Lord, every 
 one, as they found it on their minds, spoke what 
 appeared to them suitable on the occasion ; and in 
 a tender, brotherly manner, every one of us freely 
 submitted ourselves to one another's examination, 
 whether, or how far, each stood clear as to life and 
 conversation, and other matters ; as also, whether 
 we ourselves had complied with the rules of the so- 
 ciety. For, in our conference together, we told one 
 another, that if we were not good examples our- 
 selves, we were not fit to advise others ; and in our 
 discourse we were very plain and free with each 
 other, in the love of God. For I can say of a truth, 
 our hearts were greatly humbled before the Lord, 
 under a sense of the great weight of the concern, 
 and our own weakness and unworthiness for such 
 I 3 
 
178 JOSEPH PIKE. 
 
 a service; yet, as we were appointed thereto, and 
 with a deep concern of mind for the prosperity of 
 truth in general, and the welfare of those in par- 
 ticular whom we were to visit, we proceeded ac- 
 cordingly, and visited every Friend's family, and 
 particularly comers to meeting in this city, from 
 one end to the other; in doing which, we first 
 sate down with them together, and as we found a 
 concern to come upon our minds suitable to their 
 respective states and conditions, we gave them 
 advice and counsel, &c. accordingly, and particu- 
 larly to keep close to the witness of God in theni- 
 selves, and the gift and measure of his holy spirit, 
 by which they might come to know and experience 
 a growth in the Lord's holy truth, whereby their 
 insides would be made clean also. And after we 
 had spoken what was in our minds, relating to 
 spiritual things, we then proceeded to other 
 things, of many kinds, relating to conversation and 
 behaviour, as occasion offered. Then we read 
 sundry rules of superior meetings, and spake the 
 needful to them, without partiality to any. And I 
 can, in great humility of mind, say, the Lord owned 
 us in our service, by the attendance of his living 
 presence, which in several places broke in upon 
 our spirits; and some of theirs also, to the 
 bowing of their hearts into great tenderness of 
 spirit ; and some, who had not been so faithful to 
 truth, nor so orderly in their conversation as they 
 ought to have been, were so reached by what was 
 spoken, that, in much brokenness of mind, they 
 acknowledged the same, with desires that, for the 
 
JOSEPH PIKE. 179 
 
 time to come, they might be more faithful to the 
 Lord, and walk more circumspectly than they had 
 done. And indeed we had very melting times 
 and seasons in many places, all which greatly 
 strengthened and confirmed us in our service and 
 labour of love; and I do not know that we met 
 with any opposition or stubbornness in all the 
 places we visited, but a general condescension in 
 all to put away superfluities in apparel and house- 
 hold furniture, which was accordingly done in 
 some time after. So that there was a pretty 
 thorough reformation in this city as to outward 
 things, that appeared contrary to truth and rules 
 of the society." 
 
 In conducting his temporal affairs, Joseph Pike 
 was remarkably exemplary, beginning on a small 
 scale, and careful not to enlarge beyond his abi- 
 lity; likewise to fulfil his engagements, and to 
 avoid all hazarding of the property of others, how- 
 ever great the prospect of gain might be by the 
 enterprise; studious not to encumber himself with 
 business, so as to prevent the performance of re- 
 ligious duties, to which he freely gave his time, 
 talents, and money. He was an honourable elder, 
 and travelled much in the service of the society. 
 Liberal himself in contributing to the relief of our 
 poor, his heart was grieved when he observed a 
 narrowness and withholding, in persons of ability, 
 on this occasion. It was a close trial to him to 
 leave home, by appointment of the meeting, when 
 his son lay apparently at the point of death; yet 
 this did not detain him, and the glad father, on his 
 
180 JOSEPH PIKE. 
 
 return, thankfully embraced his recovering child, 
 receiving him as a gift from Him, to whose service 
 he had devoted himself and all that was his. 
 
 A prospect of considerable pecuniary advantage 
 presented to Joseph Pike, and his friend Samuel 
 Randall, by a large quantity of tobacco which they 
 had opportunity, and were able to purchase; and 
 by which there was no danger of loss, but a pro- 
 spect of very ample profit. But, on weighing the 
 matter in their minds, the character of being mo- 
 nopolizers, and especially the reflection whichr 
 might be cast upon their religious society on this 
 account, induced them to decline it, and caused 
 them to see, without repenting or repining at it, the 
 great acquisition of wealth which another person 
 obtained by the purchase of the said article*. 
 Such conduct and sentiments strengthened them 
 to admonish those whom they perceived to be 
 launching too boldly into trade; and when such 
 retorted, that it was easy for those in extensive 
 business to recommend limitations to them, they 
 
 * On this subject, Joseph Pike further remarks: "Not- 
 withstanding I have often declined the prosecution of the 
 prospects which carried a fair appearance of profit, yet I will 
 not dare to say that they would have answered accordingly, by 
 incumbering me with much business; for the Lord having 
 blest me in moderate dealing, he might have turned his hand 
 against me, and fi'ustrated my expectation, if I Jiad overcharg- 
 ed my self with incumbrances, which would have hindered that 
 little service I had to do for him : and I can say, in the since- 
 rity of my heart, that I never incKned or strove to be rich, to 
 make my children great and high in the world.'* 
 
JOSEPH PIKE. 181 
 
 advised them to begin as they began, and not to 
 begin where they left off. For those good men, who 
 sought not after accumulation, having acquired 
 a comfortable competence for themselves and fa- 
 milies, desired no more ; and, therefore, when old 
 age and infirmities came on, conscious that the 
 time given for a better purpose had not been spent 
 in worldly pursuits, the prospect of the final 
 change was beheld without dismay, as appears by 
 the following account, given by Joseph Pike, of 
 his sickness in the year 17^6. "In the 10th 
 month, this year, I got a very violent cold by going 
 to town, and with it the asthma took me to a great 
 degree, so that I was obliged to sit up in a chair 
 for about six weeks; and then the gout or rheuma- 
 tism, or both, seized me violently, as likev/ise the 
 palsy in my tongue and right hand, so that for 
 some time I could not speak. And then I was 
 forced to take to my bed, very weak, where I lay 
 about twelve or thirteen weeks, not able to move 
 my feet at all, nor hardly my hands. And when I 
 was taken up to make my bed, I was lifted in and 
 out by two men, and so weak I was, that very few 
 that saw me thought I could live; and indeed 
 there was but very Httle appearance or likelihood 
 of it, though all this time it was hid from me whe- 
 ther I should live or die. But oh ! for ever prais- 
 ed and magnified be the holy name of the Lord, 
 he did not leave or forsake me in the time of my 
 greatest weakness, and the extremity of the pain of 
 my body; for his dew lay almost continually upon 
 
18^ JOSEPH PIKE. 
 
 my branches all that time, and the sweet incomes 
 of his living and comfortable presence supported 
 me under all, so that my bed of extreme pain was 
 very often made a bed of pleasure to me. And he 
 also kept me from the least repining or murmuring 
 thought, and I was made to bless the holy hand 
 that permitted this affliction to come upon me. I 
 also had the evidence of his holy spirit witnessing 
 with my spirit, that I never joined with, or 
 strengthened the hands of wrong or libertine 
 spirits, which was a great comfort to me at that 
 time; or that I had sought my own honour, or the 
 applause of men, in all the little services in the way 
 of discipline I liad done for him, according to my 
 station : and which indeed I did always, so I do 
 now, account them but very little; for, after all, I 
 am but an unprofitable servant, and not able, of 
 myself, to do the least thing acceptable to the 
 Lord, without his divine assistance. Oh ! saith 
 my soul, that my tongue may cleave to the roof of 
 my mouth, before I ever forget, to the last mo- 
 ment of my life, that time of his wonderful love to 
 me ; or indeed his tender mercies extended to me 
 all my life long, imto this day. And in the com- 
 memoration and divine sense thereof, I do, at this 
 very instant, reverently bow myself, as with my 
 mouth in the dust, in humble praises to his holy 
 and righteous name, for all his manifold mercies, 
 who is the Lord of heaven and the whole earth, 
 that lives and reigns for evermore. 
 
 *' 17S7. The Lord was pleased to raise me up 
 
JOSEPH PIKE. 18S 
 
 again, so that I went abroad in about six or seven 
 months' time in this year. And I am still in the land 
 of the living ; yet how long I shall be so is in his 
 divine hand, for I am but weak in body, though I 
 hope strong in spirit, and am now waiting for my 
 dissolution, when the Lord shall please to call me. 
 I pray unto him with all the powers of my soul, for 
 preservation to the end, and that I may be truly 
 prepared for that sure, though uncertain hour, 
 whenever it comes. 
 
 " J. P. 
 
 "From my house at the Well, near Cork, 10th 
 of od month, 1728, in the seventy-first year of my 
 
 In 1729, Joseph Pike died ; and of him this tes- 
 timony was given forth, by his own monthly meet- 
 ing of Cork : *' He was a man of a clear under* 
 standing, sound judgment, tender over the weak, 
 where tenderness appeared, but sharp against the 
 high-minded and stubborn: in conversation solid 
 and weighty, without affectation, yet cheerful and 
 agreeable without levity; a worthy elder, ruling 
 his own house well, and of great service in the 
 church." 
 
 His " Treatise on Baptism and the Lord's Sup- 
 per," was ordered to be printed at the expense of 
 the society, but the author chose to do it at his 
 own, in 1709. 
 
 It does not appear but that Ehzabeth Pike sur- 
 
184 GREGORY RUSSEL. 
 
 vived her husband. His MS. Journal, began at 
 the age of sixty-five, says he had been then forty 
 years married ; and he adds : " I never had, nor 
 indeed had any cause for, one repentant thought 
 for my choice, to this day ; she having been to me 
 a most loving, tenderly affectionate, and faithful 
 wife ; a true and right help-meet ; a loving and 
 tender mother ; a kind and friendly neighbour, of 
 a liberal and hospitable disposition, free from 
 covetousness ; and, above all, one that loved and 
 feared the Lord." 
 
 Samuel Randall died in the year 1718, most af- 
 fectionately lamented by Joseph Pike, with whom 
 he had lived in unbroken friendship, and of whom 
 he testifies, that " he was a most zealous cham- 
 pion for the truth." His end was such as might 
 be expected from such a life: it was peace. His 
 age sixty-four. 
 
 From " Rutty's Rise and Progress," and " J. Pike's Journal," 
 in MS. 
 
 GREGORY RUSSEL. 
 
 The monthly meeting of Carlow, to which Gre- 
 gory Russel belonged, testifies of him, that his in- 
 nocent Hfe and blameless conversation, his zeal for 
 
ELLEN BEWLEY. 185 
 
 the support of good order, his usefulness in family- 
 visits, his diligent attendance of meetings, (a duty 
 which he permitted not his temporal concerns to 
 prevent,) his conduct as a husband and father, 
 were all consistent with the ministerial office, which 
 he exercised with pious awe, and in which he con- 
 tinued lively in old age. He was known, esteem- 
 ed, and beloved, in the monthly meeting to which 
 he belonged fifty-five years ; and endured the pains 
 of his last illness with great patience, evidently 
 sustained by divine aid, and preserved in that 
 sweetness which seems to be a foretaste of heaven. 
 His desire of an easy passage out of this hfe was 
 granted, and he died the 18th of 6th month, 1730, 
 aged eighty; a minister forty years. 
 
 From " Testimonies of public Friends deceased.'* 
 
 ELLEN BEWLEY. 
 
 Ellen, the daughter of Joseph and Elizabeth 
 Inman, married Daniel Bewley, and resided in 
 Dublin. She was religiously disposed from her 
 childhood, and was concerned, not only when in 
 the assemblies for public worship, but at other 
 times, to wait to feel the incomes of that divine 
 
186 THOMAS BRADDOCK. 
 
 power, which, as it is yielded to, cleanseth the 
 heart, and nourisheth up the soul to life eternal. 
 Thus was she enabled to say, in her last illness, 
 that at times she enjoyed so much peace and com- 
 fort, as she had thought mortals could scarcely 
 have been made partakers of. Resignation to live 
 or die, was the consequence of those feelings. 
 She earnestly desired that her children might lead 
 a circumspect Ufe, and advised those about her to 
 live so that they might be fit to die. Thus peace- 
 fully she departed this life, the 6th month, 1730. 
 
 From " Piety Promoted," 7th Part. 
 
 THOMAS BRADDOCK. 
 
 Thomas Braddock was educated in profession of 
 the tenets of the church of England, but grew un- 
 easy under forms, without the power of religion 
 therein ; and serious considerations concerning his 
 unpreparedness for a future state sometimes seized 
 his mind, affecting him with great trouble. Desirous 
 to unite himself with those who sought nearer com- 
 munion with their Maker, than could be attained 
 by outward ceremonies, he supplicated the Al- 
 mighty that he would be pleased to show him 
 
THOMAS BRADDOCK. 187 
 
 with whom he should join ; and he thus describes 
 the state of his mind: "As for the Quakers, I 
 thought they could not be God's people, because 
 they denied the two great seals of the covenant of 
 grace, as they were called; so that I thought they 
 being wrong in that, must be wrong in every thing 
 else ; though I had a liking to their conversation, 
 and was inclined to go to one of their meetings, 
 and see what sort of worship they had. I knew 
 they had no man appointed to preach to them; 
 and what they meant by their silent meetings, I 
 could not tell. I went, however, to one of them, 
 and sate with them about half an hour, when the 
 great power of the Lord came upon me, and made 
 me fetch many deep sighs and groans, with tears j 
 and a trembling came over my whole body, so that 
 I was forced to take hold of the seat on which I 
 sate, to keep myself from falling. I was very much 
 ashamed to appear in that condition before so 
 many people, but I could not avoid it ; and then 
 the voice of the Lord came unto me, and said : 
 * These are the people thou must join with ; and if 
 thou be faithful, I will be with thee to the end of 
 thy days, and thou shalt have hfe everlasting in 
 the world to come!' I gave up freely to the hea- 
 venly vision, and was willing to obey the Lord's 
 counsel ; and the shaking and trouble abated, and 
 I sat pretty quiet until the meeting was ended. 
 My wife meeting me, asked whether I had been at 
 a Quaker's meeting ? I answered, Yes. She fur- 
 ther queried whether they had any preacher ? I 
 
188 THOMAS BRADDOCK. 
 
 answered, Yes, and the best of preachers. She did 
 not know that I had heard the holy Jesus, but 
 thought that I had been hearing a man. Then it 
 was that the great work of the Lord began in me, 
 and the hght shined in my heart, and gave me to 
 see the poor, lost, bewildered, dark, and deplorable 
 condition that I had hitherto lived in, as without 
 God in the world. Then were my sins brought 
 to my remembrance with great trouble, and many 
 sorrowful days and nights I passed, with earnest 
 cries to the Lord for pardon ; yet supported, at 
 times, by the loving visitations of the Almighty, to 
 let me see that he had not forsaken me." 
 
 Thus was this our friend made a Quaker by an 
 invisible power ; and by the same power was the 
 work of reformation and sanctification begun in 
 his soul. And now his prejudices against this 
 people, as denying the two great seals of the cove- 
 nant of grace, so called, haptism and the Lord's 
 supper, vanished; for he calls this blessed exer- 
 cise of his soul, his Christian baptism. But now 
 many enemies attacked him, both from within and 
 without ; with rage and passion sometimes, which 
 he overcame with the meekness of the lamb. 
 
 In process of time he became concerned, not 
 only for the salvation of his own soul, but was 
 sometimes seized with great trouble, trembling, 
 and tears, on the account of the unfaithfulness of 
 others ; particularly in meetings for worship, where 
 words arose very lively in his mind, which it seem- 
 ed to be his duty to dehverj but he^ through 
 
THOMAS BRADDOCK. 189 
 
 weakness, refusing to yield obedience to the hea- 
 venly call, the divine presence was for a season 
 withdrawn from him, and he left barren, and at 
 times given up to lightness. Yet it pleased God, 
 in great mercy, again to visit his soul, and let him 
 see his error. And, indeed, this our friend was a 
 most signal instance of the tender mercy and long 
 forbearance of a gracious God; for in the year 
 1725, even in his old age, and about eighteen 
 years after his before-mentioned disobedience, a 
 fresh concern came upon him, to utter some 
 words in a public meeting, testifying the Lord's 
 goodness to his soul, and tending to the awaken- 
 ing the carnal professors among Friends. This 
 second trial was to him almost as death ; being a 
 man of great humility and modesty, conscious of 
 his own weakness, and tossed with many doubts, 
 fears, and reasonings, and great distress of body 
 and mind. At length he gave up to the Lord's 
 requirings, and delivered what he gave him to say, 
 to the great peace and comfort of his own mind ; 
 and from that time till his death, he was at inter- 
 vals concerned in public exhortation, in few words, 
 but weighty, seasonable, and edifying; and his 
 conversation was suitable to his doctrine. He 
 died at BaUitore, county of Kildare, in the year 
 1731. 
 
 From " Rutty's Rise and Progress.'' 
 
190 
 
 WILLIAM GRAY. 
 
 William Gray, of Ballyliagen, in the province 
 of Ulster, born in 1 662^ was a worthy elder, whose 
 services, in the religious society to which he be- 
 longed, were important; for, having a good under- 
 standing, a benevolent heart, and command of 
 language, he was the better qualified to give clear 
 and pertinent counsel concerning the discipline, 
 and, in composing of differences, exercised the 
 blessed office of a peace-maker. He was, not- 
 withstanding, diffident of his own abilities, and 
 cautious in accepting the office of an elder; and, 
 when in that office, modestly preferred the judg- 
 ment of those advanced in years and experience, 
 to his own. 
 
 He, who thus devoted himself to the duties of 
 religion, consequently fulfilled worthily his social 
 duties, as a husband, father, friend, and neigh- 
 bour. His conduct was amiable and exemplary: 
 he was hospitable to the stranger, and kind to the 
 poor. About six years before his death he ap- 
 peared as a minister, tenderly exhorting his 
 friends not to rest satisfied with an outward pro- 
 fession, but to labour to make their calling and 
 -election sure. This he was earnest to feel in his 
 own experience. He was supported through the 
 ^^ins of violent illness, in patience and resignation; 
 
JOHN DOBBS. 191 
 
 and quietly departed this life, the 20th of 4th 
 month, 1736, aged seventy -four. 
 
 From " Rutty's Rise and Progress," and " Testimonies of 
 public Friends deceased." 
 
 JOHN DOBBS. 
 
 John Dobbs, born in the year 1656, was the eld- 
 est son of Richard Dobbs, near Carrickfergus, a 
 counsellor, a justice of peace for the county of 
 Antrim, and the possessor of a considerable estate. 
 His views, for his son's advancement in life, rose 
 high. He bestowed on his naturally superior 
 abilities the cultivation of a Hterary education; 
 and his .paternal hopes anticipated the completion 
 of his wishes, that his son might become a bishop. 
 The child, then about eleven years of age, over- 
 hearing his father express this desire, secretly 
 thought, " It is a great concern to take the care of 
 other men's souls upon me : it is well if I can look 
 well after my own." 
 
 While he pursued his studies at school, he was 
 seriously disposed, idle and loose conversation was 
 irksome to him ; and on his road to Oxford, he 
 was alarmed by the remark of a fellow-traveller. 
 
192 JOHN DOBBS. 
 
 on the unwillingness some felt to send their sons 
 thither, lest their morals should be corrupted. 
 His mind received a shock by this information. 
 It is cause of deep regret, when young men, ad- 
 vancing to maturity of years and intellect, with 
 the advantages of a liberal education, looking for- 
 ward to fill respectable situations in life, having 
 the field of science before them, and qualified to 
 employ their time worthily, waste the precious 
 hours of youth, and debase themselves by folly 
 and vice. Their new associate soon perceived 
 that the conduct of many of his fellow-students 
 justified, but too well, the account which had been 
 given him. In the integrity of his heart he en- 
 deavoured to lead their conversation to improving 
 subjects; but finding he could not accomplish 
 this desirable end, and, probably, distrustful of 
 himself, he requested, and was permitted, to return 
 home. Here, also, his spirit was oppressed by 
 the company to which his father's situation ex- 
 posed him. Their degradation, by excess in 
 drmking, disgusted him, and made him withdraw 
 from society, wherein that temperance, prescribed 
 by the gospel, was so little observed. 
 
 Thus leading a circumspect and innocent life, 
 endeavouring to turn his time and talents to the 
 best account, this exemplary youth held on his 
 way; and observing in the religious society of 
 Friends, to whom his mother, Dorothy Dobbs, 
 had united herself, a circumspection of conduct, 
 which gave him a favourable opinion of their prin- 
 
JOHN DOBBS. 193 
 
 ciples, he read several of their writings on reli- 
 gious subjects, and cherished an esteem for them; 
 but he declined the thoughts of entering into 
 their community. His father had threatened to 
 turn any of his children out of doors who should 
 go to their meetings: however, about the nine- 
 teenth year of his age, Thomas Dockwra, from 
 England, having appointed a meeting at Carrick- 
 fergus, John Dobbs went thither; and before 
 that meeting was over, he was so convinced 
 of the truth of their doctrines, that he soon after- 
 wards joined the society of Friends. 
 
 Till now he was a favourite with his family, but, 
 on his taking this step, he found a great altera- 
 tion in their conduct towards him ; particularly in 
 his father, whose expectations for him were now 
 frustrated. At first he endeavoured, by persua- 
 sions and flattering promises, to induce his son to 
 break off his connexion with this despised peo- 
 ple; but the son, who had made his choice, as he 
 believed from clear conviction that he ought so 
 to choose, was not to be shaken by worldly con- 
 siderations, nor by the more powerful motive of 
 regaining the affections of a parent, whom it 
 grieved him to disappoint and offend. This pa- 
 rent, little respecting the conscientious scruples of 
 his son, was exasperated by his refusal to comply 
 with his desire, and treated him with great seve- 
 rity, keeping him a prisoner in his house several 
 months; and once, during that time, meeting him 
 
 K 
 
194 JOHN DOBBS. 
 
 with his hat on, the father's rage transported him 
 so far, that he beat his unresisting son so grievously 
 on the head, with a cane, that, though he reco- 
 vered from a fever, the consequence of this chas- 
 tisement, the injury he received by it was felt at 
 times during his life. 
 
 Through all his distresses, he had in his mo- 
 ther a tender and constant friend, and kind pro- 
 trectress, as far as she could protect him; but it 
 is not to be expected that, disliking so much the 
 religious profession of his vv^ife, she could have 
 much influence over the angry father, to soften 
 his rigorous treatment of their son. The sufferings 
 and sorrows of this devoted young man were not 
 filled up, till he lost, by her death, the consolation, 
 the support, the sympathy of his dear mother. 
 After which, his surviving parent refusing to re- 
 admit him into his presence, and none in the 
 family compassionating his case, his stay in his 
 father's house became so painful to himself, and 
 seemed so disagreeable to others, that he left it, 
 and went to London, placing himself with Charles 
 Marshall, a Friend in high repute for religious 
 experience and medical knowledge. He was in- 
 structed by him in chemistry, and making further 
 progress m the study of physic, he returned to 
 Ireland, practised it with reputation and success, 
 and great Christian charity to the poor. And thus 
 his talents and indust.y gained for him that inde- 
 pendence which his father's resentment denied; 
 fv>r, at his death, this relentless parent bequeathed 
 
JOHN DOBBS. 195 
 
 the family estate to his younger son, charging it 
 with but ten pounds per annum for his brother, 
 during his Hfe, to keep him (thus was the bequest 
 worded) from starving, or relying on this seducing 
 people for support. 
 
 He who became heir to the ample property, 
 found it inadequate to support his extravagance, 
 and the poor pittance assigned to John Dobbs was 
 badly paid by his brother; but his nephew, more 
 prudent than his parent, redeemed the estate from 
 the incumbrance in which the prodigality of the 
 father had involved it, and, of his own free will* 
 doubled, and punctually paid his uncle's annuity. 
 
 Beloved and respected for the consistency and 
 circumspection of his conduct, and pitied for the 
 wrong which he had sustained, John Dobbs was 
 jurged to recur to the law, for the recovery of his 
 birth-right, and assistance offered him for that 
 purpose. Thus encouraged, he commenced pro- 
 ceedings ; but not feehng that inward peace, which 
 he preferred to all outward possessions, in this 
 first step of litigation, he put a stop to all further 
 progress, and confiding in that Providence which 
 had protected him hitherto, he resigned the hopes 
 which had been excited of thus regaining his in- 
 heritance. He made a wise and happy choice in 
 marriage, and was enabled to provide comfortably 
 for his family. In process of time his son em- 
 barked in trade, became a merchant, and looked 
 forward to the possession of much wealth. His 
 K 2 
 
196 JOHN DOBBS. 
 
 father strove to turn bis mind from these am- 
 bitious views, advised him to restrain bis pursuit 
 after riches, and foretold that tliey would fly from 
 bim^ His son afterwards experienced this to be 
 the case. 
 
 John Dobbs, through a long life, retained his 
 character for integrity, for faithfulness to his 
 Creator, and for blameless conversation among 
 bis fellow-men. For conscience sake he had 
 given up that wealth which might have exalted 
 him in the estimation of the world, but which 
 could not have purchased that peace of which its 
 loss had not been able to deprive him. Endowed 
 with exalted talents, and exerting those talents 
 worthily, he declined popularity: more in sub- 
 stance than show^, he sought the approbation of 
 his inward monitor, and not the applause of men. 
 Such a person must have been eminently useful in 
 the religious society to which he belonged, and, 
 though he did not appear as a minister in it, his 
 conduct preached loudly to others. 
 
 When his last hour approached, some of his 
 friends, together with his own family, being in his 
 chamber, witnessing the serenity, thankfulness, 
 and joy, which marked the conclusion of his pious 
 hfe, he addressed them, by pointing out the dif- 
 ference between the old and the new covenants; 
 repeating several verses of the first chapter of the 
 Hebrews, beginning with the first verse; and 
 almost immediately after expired, in the eighty- 
 fourth year of his age, in the year 1 739. 
 
ELIZABETH JACOB. 197 
 
 His wife, Martha Dobbs, survived him some 
 years. She spoke in testimony, in public meet- 
 ings, and died in a good old age. Her son-in- 
 law, James Gough, testifies of her, that she was a 
 heavenly-minded woman. 
 
 From " Rutty's Rise and Progress," and from his de- 
 scendants. 
 
 ELIZABETH JACOB. 
 
 Elizabeth, daughter of Thomas and Agnes 
 Head, was born at Ardee, in the year 1675. Her 
 parents were of the society of Friends. Some of 
 her early years were spent in England: after- 
 wards she lived in Dublin, and, enduring many 
 conflicts of mind before she gave up to the ser- 
 vice, she appeared as a minister, in the year 
 1697. 
 
 On her marriage with Richard Jacob, of Lime- 
 rick, she removed to that city, and was of great 
 service there, and in the province of Munster. 
 Her labours were not limited to the place of her 
 residence, in her youth, or when years and in- 
 firmities might seem to demand repose. She per- 
 formed many laborious journeys in this nation. 
 
198 JANE GEE. 
 
 England, Scotland, and Wales; and in the year 
 1729, paid a religious visit to Holland. 
 
 Her ministry was powerful, reaching the hearts 
 of the hearers, and she was an instrument of good 
 to many. She was preserved in circumspect con- 
 duct, and exemplary conversation, yet of a sweet 
 and cheerful spirit. She died at Waterford, in 
 the year 1739, aged sixty-four. 
 
 From " Rutty's Rise and Progress;" and " Testimonies of 
 public Friends deceased." 
 
 JANE GEE. 
 
 Jane, daughter of Robert and Mary Lecky, was^ 
 born at Staplestown, county of Carlow, in the 
 year 1687. She was religiously incUned in her 
 youth, and loved the company and conversation 
 of the pious and honest-hearted. In 1714, she 
 became the wife of John Gee, of Moate Grenoge ; 
 and as she advanced in life, her steps in the path 
 of rectitude were progressive ; and, in the year 
 1721, she received a divine commission, publicly 
 to declare those truths which her conduct had 
 long exemplified. " Her mild and innocent con- 
 versation and deportment" (thus her friends testi- 
 fied of her) " corresponded with the doctrine 
 
JANE GEE. 199 
 
 which she preached, and engaged Friends' love 
 greatly, self being of no reputation with her." 
 She was qualified for assisting in the affairs of 
 the society; particularly for visiting families, in 
 which, and in her ministerial labours, her services 
 were truly acceptable. She paid religious visits 
 in divers parts of this nation; and in the year 
 1729, in company with Elizabeth Wilson, went 
 into England on this account. They had spent 
 about a year in that country, when Elizabeth was 
 taken sick, and, after an illness of two weeks, 
 died at Manchester, 16th of 8th month, 1730. 
 Jane Gee, closely attached to her by the ties of 
 friendship and kindred, was deeply affected by 
 this trial. 
 
 Ehzabeth Wilson had been a minister eleven 
 years, much esteemed and beloved. She bore her 
 sickness with patient submission to the divine 
 will; and a few hours before her death, after 
 lying in solemn stillness, she expressed her enjoy- 
 ment of the spring of divine love, and took leave, 
 " with a most sweet, composed, and pleasant 
 countenance," of her companion; who expressed 
 her firm belief that, as she lived in the fear of 
 the Lord, she died in his favour. 
 
 Jane Gee's last indisposition was of long continu- 
 ance, and at times very painful ; but, resigned to live 
 or die, she bore it patiently. A short time before 
 her death, several of her friends coming to visit 
 her, though very weak she sate up in bed, and, 
 animated by a sense of divine favour, expressed 
 
200 CHARLES HOWEI.L. 
 
 her satisfaction in their visit, and her desire that 
 the Lord might be with them in their transacting 
 the affairs of the disciphne, and that Friends 
 Xnight be careful of the education of youth. 
 
 Her fervent supphcation that the divine pre- 
 sence would be with her in her last moments, was 
 graciously answered. She was enabled to say, 
 *' Lord, now come : thy servant is ready !" and, 
 sensible to the last, departed this life, the 28th of 
 10th month, 1739. 
 
 From " Rutty's Rise and Progress;" and " Testimonies of 
 public Friends deceased." 
 
 CHARLES HOWELL. 
 
 Charles Howell was born at Gorey, in the 
 county of Wexford, in the year 1671, and edu- 
 cated according to the church of England. He 
 was apprenticed to a Friend, Nicholas Lock ; and 
 while in this situation he became serious, saw the 
 exceeding sinfulness of sin, and abstained from 
 those vanities to which he was inclined. In this 
 disposition he joined the society of Friends ; and, 
 on account of not paying tithes, endured a long 
 cind close imprisonment with patience and cheer- 
 
CHARLES HOWELL. ^1 
 
 fulness. Soon after his release, about the year 
 1695, he spoke in public as a minister; and tra- 
 velled on that account, not only in this island, but 
 in some parts of England and Wales. His minis- 
 try was acceptable: it was strengthened by his 
 exemplary life and conversation. 
 
 He was suddenly seized with illness, in which 
 he acknowledged the goodness of the Lord, 
 which supported him under great bodily suffer- 
 ing; and expressed his belief that he was going to 
 enjoy that for which he had laboured in his life- 
 time. He endeavoured to console his wife and 
 children, who were mourning beside him; and 
 Said to them, *' Sorrow not for me, as without 
 hope. I have not my day's work to do now; for 
 though my body is full of pain, my mind is easy." 
 Adding, " The Lord, who promised to be a 
 husband to the widow, and a father to the father- 
 less, I make no doubt will be so to you, if you 
 keep near to him." 
 
 He died 23d of 8th month, 1740, aged sixty- 
 nine. 
 
 From " Testimonies of Public Friends deceased/* 
 
 K 3 
 
202 
 
 JOHN ASHTON. 
 
 John Ashton was born in Cheshire, in 166^, and 
 was brought to Ireland, when a child, by his parents, 
 who educated him in the forms of the church of 
 England; of which he continued a member till 
 near the fortieth year of his age, when he and his 
 wife attended a meeting of Friends at Birr, where 
 the gospel ministry of Thomas Wilson penetrated 
 their hearts; and on leaving the place, they said 
 to each other, " The way of everlasting happi- 
 ness has been clearly laid down before us, and we 
 are resolved to walk in it, come life, or come 
 death." 
 
 They joined the society of Friends, and John 
 Ashton was soon after thrown into prison, for 
 refusing to pay tithes. He bore his imprison- 
 ment with exemplary patience and resignation. 
 Being averse to idleness, and used to industry, 
 he learned to make garters and laces, for his sup- 
 port while in confinement. After he regained 
 his liberty, his wife and himself constantly attend- 
 ed the meeting held at Birr, twice in the week. 
 They generally walked thither, seven miles, along 
 a very bad road, and had a river to wade through. 
 This river, in winter, was often frozen, and they 
 were obliged to break the ice to admit them to 
 
JOHN ASHTON. 203 
 
 pass it; and he has wept to see his wife's legs 
 wounded and bleeding, on coming out of it. 
 
 He took great pains to get Friends, travelling 
 in the work of the ministry, to appoint meetings 
 at his house; and then often rode several miles, 
 even of a winter's night, to acquaint the neigh- 
 bourhood thereof, and invite them to attend. 
 Many who accepted these invitations, were joined 
 to the society to which he belonged ; and a meet- 
 ing was settled there, which soon became larger 
 than that of Birr, from which it had branched. 
 
 John Ashton vvas in low circumstances when 
 he became a member of this society. His circum- 
 stances grew better, his industry being blessed ; 
 and an increase of wealth enabled him to indulge 
 the natural benevolence of his heart in acts of ge- 
 nerosity and hospitality. 
 
 In the sixty-second year of his age he became 
 a minister ; zealous in stirring up the pure mind in 
 others, encouraging what was good, and testifying 
 against pride and vanity. 
 
 In the year 1733 he attended the yearly meet- 
 ing held in London, and paid a religious visit to 
 several meetings in England, and to Friends in 
 Scotland. 
 
 His services were valuable in visiting the fami- 
 lies of Friends, throughout the extensive monthly 
 meeting to which he belonged. His heart and 
 house were always open to receive his friends. 
 He mourned with the afflicted, and was full of 
 
^4 JOSEPH GILL. 
 
 compassion to the poor, by whom his death was 
 deeply lamented. 
 
 He died in the year 1741, at his house at Kil- 
 common-moor, county of Tipperary, in the eigh- 
 tieth year of his age. 
 
 From " Rutty 's Rise and Progress,*' " Testimonies of pub- 
 lic Friends deceased," and " James Gough's Journal." 
 
 JOSEPH GILL. 
 
 Joseph Gill, son of William and Margaret Gill, 
 of How, in Castle Sourby, Cumberland, was born 
 in the year 1674. He was educated by his 
 parents, who were of the society of Friends, in 
 that profession; and he manifested in early life 
 a zeal for the worship of his Creator, preferring 
 that duty to the pursuit after worldly gain; and 
 when he was prosperous in trade, was impressed 
 with a holy fear, lest the increase of wealth should 
 obstruct his desire after heavenly riches. He 
 was, therefore, induced to contract his business, 
 and arrange his affairs in such a manner, that his 
 mind, unclogged by anxiety, should be devoted, 
 in the first place, to obey the intimations of that 
 gracious Being, who has promised that, to those 
 
JOSEPH GILL. 205 
 
 who seek the kingdom of God and his righteous- 
 ness, those things which their heavenly Father 
 knoweth they have need of, shall be added. 
 
 He settled in Dublin, in the year 1702, soon 
 after his marriage with Isabel, daughter of Tho- 
 mas and Maudlin Robinson, who was born near 
 CarHsle in 1670. 
 
 In the year 1711 he felt it was his duty to de« 
 clare in public the truths of Christianity; and 
 the same year, in this service, in company with 
 Richard Sealy, he visited the meetings of Friends 
 in the province of Ulster. In the course of their 
 journey, at Coothill, they met with a person of 
 learning and education, named James Simpson, 
 who, entering into discourse with these Friends^ 
 was so well pleased with the reasons which they 
 were enabled to give of the hope that was in 
 them, that he joined their society, and was ser\dce- 
 able and exemplary in that quarter. 
 
 " This," says Joseph Gill, " being the first 
 journey that I went to visit Friends, after the 
 Lord concerned me to appear in testimony in 
 meeting, (except some neighbouring meetings,) 
 I went forth in great humility and fear, and my 
 dear friend and companion was very tender over 
 and kind to me. I returned, in great thankfulness 
 to the Lord, for his mercy and goodness to me^ 
 Blessed be his name for everl" 
 
 While this devoted man was engaged in gospel 
 labours, his wife being desirous to fulfil her du- 
 ties at home, governed her household with discre- 
 
g06 JOSEPH GILL. 
 
 tion and love. She was a tender mother, a kind 
 mistress ; and her family were invited, by her sweet 
 and cheerful temper, to follow her virtuous exam- 
 ple. She united with her husband in exercising 
 hospitality, and sympathized with him in the con- 
 flicts of mind which his arduous engagements oc- 
 casioned; promoting his leaving home on reli- 
 gious accounts, by counselling him to do his day's 
 work in his day; generously resigning his com- 
 pany and assistance, though a truly-affectionate 
 wife, and in a state of health requiring tender 
 attention; concealing her indispositions, lest she 
 should draw him home too soon. But in the 10th 
 month, 1713, while travelling with Luke Cock, in 
 the province of Ulster, her husband felt a secret 
 impulse to separate from his companion, and re- 
 turn home. He found his beloved wife in a lan- 
 guishing state of body; but lively in spirit, and 
 overflowing with love, counsel, and consolation to 
 her family and ii'iends. 
 
 On her dying bed she exhorted those who had 
 received a divine commission to preach the gospel, 
 to be faithful in the discharge of that duty. She 
 warned against pride, and particularly recommend- 
 ed simplicity in the attire of infants. To her hus- 
 band and children she spoke comfort, and besought 
 them to be resigned; addressing her husband 
 thus: " My dear, dost thou give me up? Pray 
 give me up freely, to the Lord that gave me to 
 thee: he is worthy to be submitted unto. Hi^ 
 secret hand was with us, in bringing us together^ 
 
JOSEPH GILL. 2Q'7 
 
 and we felt his iove and living presence at our 
 marriage; and it is with us at this time, and I 
 hope will be at our parting. Be not troubled to 
 stay behind me: the Lord that hath been near, 
 and with us together, will be with thee, and help 
 thee, and bear thee up in all exercises and diffi- 
 culties ; and provide for thee, if thou still keep 
 near him, and serve him according to his requir- 
 ings." 
 
 After a trying time of pain, her desire for some 
 ease was granted, as was also her prayer for an 
 easy passage; and she expired, as one falling 
 asleep, the 9th of 12th month, 171o. 
 
 Joseph Gill continued his labours in the service 
 of a gracious Master, who doth not afflict willing- 
 ly; and in 1715 we find him engaged with James 
 Johnson and Daniel Bewley, in paying a religious 
 visit to those who had lately joined the society of 
 Friends in Sligo; two of whom, James Byrne and 
 Thomas Lyons, were at that time lying in prison 
 for their testimony against tithes. The exertions 
 of Joseph Gill and his friends, with the clergyman 
 at whose suit the prisoners were committed, and 
 with the sheriff, were successful, and procured 
 their enlargement. 
 
 Sometimes in England, the land of his nativity, 
 and often in the land now his home, did he tra- 
 vel through difficulties of various kinds, but sup- 
 ported by the evidence that he was obeying the 
 command of his Lord. 
 
 On the 24th of 5th month, ITIG, Joseph Gill 
 
S08 JOSEPH GILL. 
 
 took to his second wife, Anna, the daughter of 
 Thomas and Mabel Durance, Hving near CarHsle. 
 This Friend spoke in public testimony, and was 
 sometimes the companion of her husband in his 
 travels. In 1720, Joseph Gill paid his last visit to 
 his father, who died the following year, aged on6 
 hundred and three. 
 
 In 17.<J1, being at a quarterly meeting at Lin- 
 coln, he says: " At this place I met with many of 
 my acquaintance, and we were made glad in the 
 Lord, and one in another ; and many of those 
 that the Lord had concerned in testimony and in 
 particular service, were much comforted and en- 
 couraged in their services, as well as cautioned to 
 keep within the limitation of their proper gifts." 
 In this year, also, in company with John Burton 
 from England, he visited a little colony of Friends, 
 lately settled at Newport, in the province of Con- 
 naught, and had a meeting of conference with the 
 heads of families. 
 
 In 1724, along with some other Friends, he 
 paid another visit to Newport; imparting counsel 
 to them, " concerning taking care of their conver- 
 sation, and duty in watching over one another in 
 love. And enquiry was made concerning the con- 
 versation of some under admonition, and many 
 things spoke to; and the tendering power of the 
 Lord was amongst us, to the tendering of our 
 hearts together. After this meeting, we employed 
 the evening in going to their houses, and sitting 
 down with them. We enquired more particularly 
 
JOSEPH GILL. S09 
 
 into their conditions, both inwardly and outwardly; 
 and gave counsel, as in the wisdom of truth it did 
 arise in our hearts." 
 
 He also mentions the concern of Friends in ad- 
 vising against marriages with those of a diiFerent 
 religious profession, saying : " By such marriages 
 oftentimes a foundation of difference and dis- 
 turbance in famiHes is laid, to the destroying of 
 peace and concord, with many other evils attending. 
 Parents were also exhorted to be faithful in ad- 
 vising and watching over their children, to prevent 
 their intimacy with those not suitable; and all 
 conniving and giving way hiddenly, sharply re« 
 proved, as great hypocrisy." 
 
 In the year 1726, in the course of his travels, 
 he visited Joseph Pike, at his house, near Cork ; 
 and found him suffering under *' long weakness 
 of body, but fresh and lively in spirit, and under 
 a concern for the prosperity of the church." 
 
 Being in Exeter in 1732, he visited James 
 Tuckett, " a prisoner for tithes, who was ancient 
 and blind ;" and at a yearly meeting at Plymouth, 
 for Cornwall, he says : " I was opened to exhort 
 Friends to rule themselves and families well at 
 home, that they might be qualified to rule in the 
 church." There were also endeavours, at that 
 time, '^ to reconcile some who were got into a con- 
 tentious spirit, and would not submit to the judg- 
 ment of the church, with whom we laboured in 
 tender love." 
 
 Several times this faithful servant visited Con- 
 
210 JOSEPH GILL. 
 
 naught and Ulster, and held large and satisfactory 
 meetings with those not of his own society. A. 
 service of still greater magnitude was required;, 
 and, yielding thereto, Joseph Gill embarked at 
 Bristol in the year 1734, for the American conti- 
 nent. He speaks of four brothers, sons to John 
 Mills, who, one after another, appeared in the 
 ministry, in a part of the country then called a wil- 
 derness * ; where Joseph Gill advised the few set- 
 tlers to obtain liberty from the quarterly meetings 
 to establish a monthly meeting. He was troubled 
 at the great preparation for a marriage entertain- 
 ment, and the crowds which assembled to partake 
 of it ; telling the assembly how contrary this was 
 to the doctrine and design of Christianity, which 
 led into moderation and temperance on all occa- 
 sions, refusing the invitation to stay at the house. 
 
 After fulfilling what he believed to be his duty 
 in those parts, he returned home in less than two 
 years ; '^ where," said he, " I found my dear 
 wife and children, and all my children's families 
 well. The most gracious and merciful Father, and 
 fountain of all goodness, who had been gracious 
 and bountiful to me in my travels, and wonderfully 
 supported, helped, and preserved me, had also fa- 
 voured and preserved my family at home, and 
 strengthened, supported, and helped my dear 
 wife through all the various exercises that attend- 
 ed her in my absence," 
 
 « In Virginia, near the chief branqh of Potomack xxvQXf. 
 
JOSEPH GILL. 211 
 
 In the year 1736, Joseph Gill again became a 
 widower: the companion of twenty years of his 
 life, was removed by death. In pursuance of ap- 
 prehended duty, he paid religious visits to parts of 
 this island, and in England. 
 
 In the year 1739, Joseph Gill took to wife Eli- 
 zabeth Baker, of French-hay ; and expresses his 
 thankfulness to that Providence, who had given 
 him another meet-help and companion in his de- 
 clining years. He continued his journeys in Ire- 
 land and in England, till the year 1741, when 
 having obtained a certificate to visit his friends in 
 the province of Ulster, he set out, though in a pre- 
 carious state of health, and visited most of the 
 meetings in that province. His indisposition in- 
 creasing, he returned home, and continued but 
 about five weeks in this life, expiring in peace and 
 sweetness, the 28th of 11th month, 1741. 
 
 His exemplary hfe, consistent with the doctrines 
 he taught, and his usefulness in the discipline of 
 the society to which he belonged, caused his loss 
 to be much regretted and deeply felt. 
 
 His widow survived him some years. She was 
 a woman of an excellent spirit, gifted for service in 
 the discipline of the church. She was as a nurs- 
 ing mother to well-disposed young persons, who 
 were strongly attached to her, and won by her ex- 
 ample, as well as precept, to choose the narrow 
 path, which, though it be encompassed with diffi- 
 culties, will safely lead through them, to a placa 
 
GEORGE ROOKE. 
 
 of rest. She died the STth of 11th month, 
 1753. 
 
 From ^' Rutty 's Rise and Progress;'* " Testimonies con- 
 cerning public Friends ;" " Piety Promoted," 6th part ; and 
 a MS. in Joseph Gill's hand-writing. 
 
 GEORGE ROOKE. 
 
 George Rooke was bom at Boltonwood in Cum- 
 berland, in the year 1652, of parents who were 
 religious characters. He lost his father when he 
 was eleven years old, and his mother being left 
 with several children, a widow, and in narrow cir- 
 cumstances, he got but little school-learning. At 
 sixteen he was apprenticed to Thomas Drewry, a 
 carpenter and joiner, one of the society of Friends; 
 whose conduct in his family was exemplary, and 
 who treated his apprentice with kindness. Being 
 invited, he accompanied his master to a meeting, in 
 which the ministry of John Graves had such an 
 effect on his mind, that he felt it right for him to 
 take up the cross, to become one of the despised 
 people called Quakers, and to adopt their simple 
 language, habit, and manners. 
 
 In the time of his apprenticeship, and soon after 
 
GEORGE ROOKE. 213 
 
 he joined Friends, he met with an accident which 
 endangered his Ufe. Returning home on a dark 
 night, he fell into a coal-pit, twenty-seven yards 
 deep. From this perilous situation he could not, 
 by his own efforts, extricate himself; and there, in 
 the spring of life, with the unimpaired gifts of 
 health and strength, he was likely to perish mi- 
 serably by a hngering death. But his race was 
 not to end so soon: warfare and trials were not to 
 be thus escaped. His moans were heard by some 
 persons, who came that way for water to a neigh- 
 bouring pit. They called to him, and, on his an- 
 swering, brought a Hght; and one of them, who 
 was let down, fastening a rope to a belt around his 
 body, the youth was drawn up almost exhausted, 
 with two ribs broken, but otherwise uninjured. 
 He soon recovered. 
 
 On the expiration of his apprenticeship, he 
 commenced business on his own account, working 
 either in his own shop, or with his neighbours ; 
 constant in his attendance on meetings, both on 
 first and other days of the week. About the 
 twenty-fifth year of his age, he appeared as a pub- 
 lic minister, acceptably to his friends; the more so, 
 as he was cautious and fearful of himself. Tho- 
 mas TrafFord coming from Ireland, to visit Friends 
 in the north of England, desired to have his com- 
 pany. He was unwilling to give up to this ser- 
 vice, being sensible of his own weakness, till en- 
 couraged by his elder friends to consider the 
 proposal. He did so; and, in consequence, united 
 
SI 4 GEORGE ROOKE, 
 
 himself with this Friend in the work of the gospel* 
 And thus an attachment was formed between them, 
 which continued through life ; for their friendship 
 was built on the sure foundation, which the storms 
 incident to this state of being could not shake. 
 They had meetings in many places, which afforded 
 satisfaction : " For," says George Rooke, " in 
 those early days, the Lord's power did mightily 
 break in upon the people, to the tendering of 
 many hearts, and refreshing his heritage." This 
 was George Rooke's first journey: his next was 
 with Peter Fearon. They acquainted George 
 Fox with their concern to visit Scotland, who gave 
 them advice, and recommended it to them to 
 travel on foot, as the warfare between the Scotch 
 covenanters and the army of Charles II. command- 
 ed by the duke of Monmouth, made it probable 
 that they would be deprived of their horses by one 
 party or the other. The first meeting they had 
 was at Kelso, the day of the battle at Bothwell 
 Bridge, where the covenanters were routed. 
 George Rooke mentions a meeting which they 
 held at the lord * Swinton's, who, with his wife and 
 some of their servants, had joined Friends. And 
 a brother of this lord, a military man, protected 
 them from disturbance, when they had a meeting 
 at Leith, where meetings had been much inter- 
 rupted, and Friends abused. They left Edin- 
 J3urgh with peaceful minds, and on their road 
 
 * -Perhaps, laird. 
 
GEORGE ROOKE. 215 
 
 from thence met with several parties of soldiers, 
 who, George Rooke relates, " carried very civilly 
 to us; for we, keeping in the innocency of the 
 truth, were preserved following our Master's busi- 
 ness, as it is written: ' Who is he that will harm 
 you, if ye be folio v/ers of that which is good?' " 
 
 After paying a second visit to Scotland, in 1681, 
 lie went from thence for Ireland. At Poi tpatrick, 
 finding the people, on the first day of the week, 
 sauntering about, and attending no place of wor- 
 ship, because their pastor was in prison for debt, 
 he had a meeting with them, much to their satis- 
 faction and his own. He landed in Ulster pro- 
 vince, and the first meeting he had in Ireland, was 
 in Lurgan. From thence he went to Dublin, to 
 the national meeting; "where," says he, "there 
 were a great many of the ancient Friends, from 
 several parts of the nation, come there to worship 
 God, and to manage the affairs of truth in a godly 
 discipline, which I greatly rejoiced at; and they were 
 very loving and respectful to me, which was great 
 encouragement to me, I being then but a youth." 
 
 After visiting the meetings in this land, with his 
 countryman, William Carter, they attended the 
 half-yearly meeting, held at Dublin in 3d month; 
 where they met several from England, who came 
 to visit their brethren. " Now," he adds, " the 
 yearly meeting at London approaching, after I 
 had staid some meetings in Cumberland, I went 
 up, in company with several Friends, who were 
 appointed representatives for that county, to at- 
 
216 GEORGE ROOKE. 
 
 tend it ; where I was glad to see several of the first 
 stock, both ministers and elders, the remembrance 
 of whom is comfortable to me to this day."" After 
 this meeting was over, (a confirming one to him,) 
 he travelled through several parts of England, and 
 met with the Separatists at Hull, where the mouths 
 of the gainsayers were stopped by the power of 
 truth. Friends suffered much from these people ; 
 being, at some places, kept out of their meeting- 
 houses by them, and obliged to hold their meet- 
 ings in the open air, sometimes in frost and snow. 
 Government was also severe upon them at this 
 time. 
 
 When not engaged in religious services, George 
 Rooke was diligently employed at his trade, care- 
 ful not to be burdensome to his friends. Of his 
 second visit to Ireland, he gives this account : " I 
 felt drawings in my mind to visit Ireland again, 
 having my true friend, Thomas Wilkinson, for my 
 companion. We landed in Dublin, where we 
 were kindly received by Friends; and after having 
 had some meetings to good satisfaction, we tra- 
 velled to the north, and visited Friends in that 
 province, and the most, or all of the meetings of 
 Friends in the nation ; the Lord's goodness going 
 along with us, and giving us utterance ^nd skill to 
 divide the word and testimony that we were called 
 to bear. And finding our spirits clear, we parted 
 with friends in great love, and returned home in 
 peace." 
 
 He proceeds: "After I had staid some time 
 
GEORGE ROOKE. 217 
 
 about home, I found drawings to visit Friends in 
 Westmorland and Durham: and at Stockton, 
 where I had a meeting, the mayor of the town sent 
 one of his officers to the meeting, to bring me be- 
 fore him; and when I came he tendered me the 
 oaths of allegiance and supremacy, and because I 
 refused to swear, for conscience sake, {because it 
 was a breach of Christ's command, who said, 
 
 * Swear not at all,') then he would have me enter 
 into bonds for my good behaviour, and to appear 
 at the next Quarter Sessions. But I told him I 
 was bound to good behaviour already. ' What,* 
 said he, * have you been before some justice of the 
 peace, that has bound you already V * No,' said 
 I; *but I am bound by my principle, to behave my- 
 self towards the king, and all his subjects, as be- 
 comes a Christian.' * But, for all that,' said he, 
 *^ you must enter into bonds.' *I cannot,' said I; 
 
 * for I believe thou and I will differ in that : thou 
 wilt call that a breach of good behaviour, which I 
 think is good behaviour.' 'What is that?' said 
 he. *I suppose thou wilt call it a breach of 
 good behaviour, if I go to one of our meetings be- 
 fore the sessions.' He said, sure enough he 
 would. * Then,' I said, ' I would not bring any of 
 my friends into that snare, to have them bound for 
 me.' He said it was but a month to the ses- 
 sions, and could not I forbear from going to meet- 
 ings so long? 'No,' said I; 'if the Lord spare 
 me health, I can no more forbear going to meet- 
 
 L 
 
218 GEORGE ROOKE. 
 
 mgs, than Daniel could forbear praying to his 
 God, although the decree was but for thirty days.' 
 So he committed me to the custody of a sergeant 
 that night, and the next day he sent to know if I 
 was in another mind than I was in the day before. 
 I sent him word I was in the same mind that I was 
 in before, and that I could not enter into bonds. 
 And then he wrote a mittimus, and got a man to 
 convey me to Durham jail; where I was kept 
 prisoner till the sessions, when I was called before 
 the justices, who tendered me the oaths again, and 
 asked me if I would swear. I told them I did 
 not know that I had ever sworn an oath in my life. 
 * It may be,' said they, * he knows not how to 
 swear: read the oath over to him.' So they read 
 the oath, and I told them that I could not, for 
 conscience sake, swear, because our Saviour had 
 said, * Swear not at all.' So they committed me 
 again to the custody of the jailer. About a month 
 after, our friend Robert Wardell came to the city, 
 and stirred himself pretty much, and spoke to se- 
 veral of the justices for my liberty, and obtained it, 
 that I should go home, and stay till they sent for 
 me, which they never did." 
 
 About the year 1686, George Rooke, being at a 
 meeting at Haverfordwest, a widow, who was pre- 
 sent, being affected by his ministry, offered him 
 the parish called St. David's Head, she having the 
 advowson of it, which he conscientiously refused. 
 
 George Rooke visited Ireland four times before 
 he settled in this country. In 1686 he married 
 
GEORGE ROOKE. ^19 
 
 Joan, the daughter of John Cooke, and settled in 
 Limerick ; but still continued diligent in the ex- 
 ercise of his gift, to the edification of the churches. 
 Happy was it for him that his heart was fixed on 
 more enduring substance than the perishable 
 things of this life, when national calamities in- 
 volved him, as well others, in deep distress! 
 During the first siege of Limerick, military men 
 were stationed in his house; and his wife was 
 obliged to watch over the provisions she had pre- 
 pared for her family, lest the soldiers should make 
 a prey of them. One day, just after she had been 
 thus engaged, a cannon-ball entering the house, 
 dashed to pieces the seat she had quitted beside 
 her kitchen-fire. The soldiers were disposed to 
 be turbulent, and planned how they should intimi- 
 date the family* They conversed in Irish, not sus- 
 pecting that Joan Rooke, who was present, un- 
 derstood them. She heard them out, and then 
 calmly told them, that she knew what they said, 
 and would inform their officer of their purpose, if 
 she perceived any attempt to execute it. This 
 alarmed them: they beoame submissive, and were 
 no longer troublesome. Yet, suspicion resting on 
 the protestant inhabitants of the city, they were 
 subjected to military oppression; and, at two 
 several times, George Rooke and other citizens 
 were imprisoned, (not knowing on what account,) 
 on pain of death if submission was refused. 
 These imprisonments were but for a short time, 
 il2 
 
220 GEORGE ROOKE. 
 
 the longest not exceeding two days ; and were pro- 
 .bably intended more to show the power vested in 
 the governor, than to ex^rt that power to the in- 
 jury of the peaceable inhabitants. After the first 
 siege was raised, the governor informed George 
 Rooke, that, if he chose to remove into the ene- 
 my's quarters, he must agree with him for a pass. 
 There were great preparations for another siege; 
 their house had been shot through in many places 
 by cannon-balls; friends had written to them from 
 Dubhn, advising them to quit Limerick, though 
 they should leave all their property behind. 
 They concluded on taking their departure. It 
 was but httle of value they were able to take 
 with them, in comparison of what they gave up: 
 their house was well stocked, and their furniture 
 excellent. So far from ever again desiring to pos- 
 sess such acconmiodations, Joan Rooke, from that 
 time, aspired to nothing in her house but what 
 was simple, whole, and clean. She left the place 
 of her birth, with her husband and three Httle 
 children, to undertake a long and perilous journey, 
 accompanied by a guide, on whose fidehty their 
 lives appeared to depend, through a country ex- 
 posed to contending armies, and, what was still 
 worse, to the depredations of the pitiless Rapa- 
 rees, who lay in wait to plunder and destroy. 
 The distress and alarm with which they were sur- 
 rounded, increased when they saw one of their 
 neighbours lying murdered by the way-side. 
 That strength wliich is gained by a reliance on the 
 
&EORGE ROOKE. 221 
 
 protection of Providence, was their support, in 
 those dismal days of tedious travel, in which they 
 were obliged to use caution to avoid the banditti; 
 and this caused delay on the road. Their guide 
 was faithful, and his integrity was remembered 
 and repaid by them, when, in his old age, he 
 stood in need of a friend. Their friends in Dub- 
 lin, rejoicing in their preservation, welcomed them 
 with a tender and affectionate reception. 
 
 From Dubhn they sailed for Cumberland, where 
 they remained about two years, George Rooke 
 steadily obeying the divine command to go forth, 
 when he believed it was issued to him. In a 
 journey to Scotland, he was accompanied by a 
 valuable elder, Jonathan Bowman, and they were 
 usefully engaged in stirring up the few Friends there, 
 to support the testimonies of their religious profes- 
 sion: a duty which had been too much neglected. 
 He thus relates a circumstance which occurred on 
 their return : " Coming to a place called Killy, 
 on the borders of England, we lodged there, and 
 having some victuals dressed for our supper, we 
 sate down to refresh ourselves ; and waiting upon 
 the Lord to feel the motion of life, I was opened to 
 give thanks to Him for his providence, that had 
 attended our travel, as also for the mercies that we 
 were about to receive. And the woman of the 
 house, being a Presbyterian, seemed to be mighty 
 well pleased that such men were come to her 
 house ; but her husband said he never heard so 
 much from any of our people. ' What people are 
 
222 GEORGE ROOKE. 
 
 they?' said his wife. 'They are Quakers,' said 
 he. * Nay,' said she, * they are Presbyterians.' 
 * Nay,' said he, * but they are Quakers.' * But 
 are you Quakers?' said she. 'Yea,' said I, 'they 
 call us so.' ' Then,' said she, ' I will not eat with 
 you.' She then began to run out against us. So, 
 after we had done supper, I began to talk with her 
 very mildly; and she was so far reached, that she 
 became very loving. Thus the Lord makes way 
 for his truth, in those that seem to oppose it." 
 
 In 1 693, George Rooke settled in Dublin for the 
 remainder of his life. He and his wife sold their 
 estate in Limerick, to enable them to follow busi- 
 ness; and though dihgent in providing for the 
 maintenance and education of an increasing family, 
 he slackened not in his zeal for the promotion of 
 piety. He was much concerned on account of the 
 affirmation, which the legislature, kindly yielding 
 to their religious scruples, had granted to the peo- 
 ple called Quakers, to be accepted instead of an 
 oath. The first form of this was not easy to the 
 minds of many Friends, because the sacred name 
 was mentioned therein : they were, therefore, not 
 satisfied to avail themselves of it, and this exposed 
 them to a continuance of suffering. However, in 
 course of time, such a one was granted as was to 
 the satisfaction of all. In his travelling by the 
 sea-coast, George Rooke was earnest in advising 
 Friends " against any clandestine way of dealing, 
 whereby the government is defrauded, and the 
 fair dealer is hurt." 
 
GEORGE ROOKE. 223 
 
 In 1737, George Rooke lost his beloved wife, of 
 whom he gives the following testimony : " She 
 was a careful and loving wife, and good help-meet, 
 both in things temporal and spiritual ; always wil- 
 ling and ready to help me forward, when I found 
 a concern and drawings to travel abroad in truth's 
 service ; and, in my absence, was very dihgent in 
 taking care of the family and prudent manage- 
 ment of our outward affairs, as also in a circum- 
 spect conversation, and tender, motherly advice to 
 our children, for their good; and was troubled 
 when she saw any of them, or others, who de- 
 scended from religious parents, and were educated 
 in the profession of truth, take liberty in conver- 
 sation, habit, or speech, contrary to the holy 
 principle we profess ; exhorting them to mind the 
 truth in themselves, whereby they might be pre- 
 served from the hurtful conversation, and foohsh 
 fashions of the world, in apparel or otherwise. 
 She was visited with a lingering sickness for 
 several months before she died, and preserved in 
 much patience and innocency, as a child; and was 
 glad to see honest Friends, who came in love to 
 visit her, though at sometimes so weak of memory, 
 that she could not distinguish them by name. 
 And as she lived in the fear of God, I have ground 
 to beheve she died in his favour, and is at rest 
 from all her troubles, and various exercises which 
 had attended here. 
 
 "She quietly departed, the 17th of the 7th 
 month, 1737; and was decently interred in Friends' 
 
GEORGE ROOKE. 
 
 burying-place at Cork-street, the SOth of the same, 
 aged near eighty-four years; and many friends 
 and neighbours accompanied her corpse to the 
 burial, among whom she had hved in love and 
 good esteem. 
 
 " George Rooke. 
 
 *' Earl Street, in Dublin, the 20th of the l^th 
 month, 1737." 
 
 With this, the testimony given forth by the 
 women's meeting of Dublin fully concurs ; men- 
 tioning her as a mother in the church, whose ex- 
 hortations in meetings of discipline were weighty 
 and lively, recommending to faithfulness in sup- 
 port of our ancient testimony; for truth, she said, 
 was the same as ever. 
 
 At this time, his only daughter, Rachel Carle- 
 ton, a widow, lived with George Rooke, and, with 
 her children, comforted his declining years, while 
 he waited patiently for the termination of his long 
 journey through this world. Beloved by all ranks, 
 and all ages, he was often surrounded by the little 
 children of his neighbours ; who, accosting him as 
 a grandfather, looked up with dehght to his be- 
 nign countenance. If it happened, which it sel- 
 dom did, that he was treated with unkindness, he 
 bore it calmly, forgave, and seemed to forget that 
 such a circumstance had occurred. 
 
 Thus he lived, in the enjoyment of tranquillity. 
 
GEORGE ROOKE. 225 
 
 till, in his ninety-first year, a pleurisy, in a few 
 days, put an end to his long and exemplary life. 
 
 Extract from the Testimony from the Quarterly 
 Meeting of Leinster province^ concerning George 
 Roolce, 
 
 *'He was a very diligent attender, not only of 
 meetings for divine worship, where he was par- 
 ticularly exemplary in observing the hour appoint- 
 ed, but also of those for disciphne ; and was scarce 
 ever absent (unless when engaged in travelling 
 elsewhere in truth's service) from the province 
 and quarterly meetings, until disabled by infirmity 
 of body. 
 
 " He was a man of good understanding, though 
 but little school learning; of a sweet temper; in 
 conversation pleasant and affable ; an affectionate 
 husband and father; a frequent and sympathizing 
 visiter of the sick. He was a diligent and faithful 
 minister, and his labours were often crowned with 
 success, to the convincement of many, (some of 
 whom proved serviceable and eminent in the 
 church,) and to the edification and establishment 
 of others. 
 
 *' In the exercise of his gift he was clear, solid, 
 and lively, even unto extreme old age ; in prayer, 
 living, reverent, weighty, and concise ; in his de- 
 portment, meek and humble, not elevated by his 
 gifts and good services ; a diligent reader of the 
 holy scriptures, and, in his preaching, a faithful 
 L 3 
 
226 GEORGE ROOKE. 
 
 qiioter of them ; tender of the glory of God, and 
 of the honour of our holy principle. 
 
 " He retained his integrity, as well as under- 
 standing and memory, to the last ; and expired the 
 7th of the 12th month, and was buried in Friends' 
 burying-place, in Dolphin's-barn Lane*, Dublin, 
 the 10th of the same, in the year 1742, being the 
 ninety-first year of his age, and about the sixty- 
 seventh of his ministry." 
 
 From " Rutty's Rise and Progress ;'* from " Testimonies 
 of public Friends;" and from George Rooke's Journal, 
 in MS. 
 
 From George Faulkner'' s Dublin Journal, 1742. 
 Last Monday night died, much lamented, in the 
 ninety-nrst year of his age, Mr. George Rooke, 
 senior ; and on Thursday his corpse was conveyed 
 from his own house, to the Quaker's meeting- 
 house in Meath-street, with great solemnity, and 
 from thence to their burying-place in Dolphin's- 
 barn Lane, attended by great numbers of his 
 friends, and other people. He was an eminent 
 preacher among the Quakers, about seventy years. 
 The evenness and sweetness of his temper ; his uni- 
 form, steady, virtuous life; the excellence and pu- 
 rity of his manners, and his universal goodwill to 
 mankind, made him not only esteemed and be- 
 loved by those of his own persuasion, through- 
 out Great Britain and this kingdom, but by all 
 others who had the happiness of his acquaintance, 
 
 * Also called Cork Street. 
 
227 
 
 MARY GREER. 
 
 Mary Greer, of Ulster province, born in 1670, is 
 thus testified of by the meeting of Lurgan: " That 
 she was much esteemed for her exemplary hfe 
 and conversation : her appearances in the minis- 
 try conveyed comfort to the serious mind, though 
 her words were not many. She was diligent in 
 the attendance of the meeting to which she be- 
 longed, and also general meetings ; visited, as a 
 minister, some parts of her native land and Eng- 
 land, and paid a general visit to Scotland. 
 
 As a wife, a mother, and a neighbour, her con- 
 duct was worthy of imitation. Endowed with a 
 natural sweetness of temper, she exerted its influ- 
 ence to preserve her children and servants in 
 humility and industry, and her heart and house 
 were open to her friends. 
 
 Her last illness was short, and she spoke but 
 little; yet that little was consonant with her life : 
 it was expressive of her desire that her children 
 might live in love with one another. She died in 
 the year 1742, aged seventy-two, a minister thirty- 
 seven years. 
 
 From " Testimonies of public Friends deceased." 
 
JOSEPH WARING. 
 
 Joseph Waring was born in the county of Wex- 
 ford, in the year 1669. At twenty-three years of 
 age, hearing the ministry of William Edmundson, 
 and beHeving in the truth of the doctrines which 
 were preached, he joined himself to the society 
 of Friends. 
 
 In 1726 he became a public preacher himself, 
 having long been one, in silence, by his example. 
 His temper was sweet, his conversation pleasant: 
 he reproved with meekness, v/as cautious of giv- 
 ing offence, loved peace, and endeavoured to pro- 
 mote it, desirous that all should dwell together in 
 unity. He was watchful over himself, and fear- 
 ful of being drawn away from this watchflilness, 
 even by what some would call small indulgences. 
 
 He was a husband and a father; and, in a good 
 old age, he died regretted, as he had lived be- 
 loved, the 23d of 9th month, 1743, aged seventy- 
 four. A minister seventeen years. 
 
 From the Testimonj of Moiitlily Meeting, county of Wex- 
 ford. 
 
229 
 
 MUNGO BEWLEY. 
 
 MuNGO Bewley, son of Thomas and Margaret 
 Bewley, of Woodhall in Cumberland, was born in 
 the year 1677. He manifested in his early years 
 a fervent zeal for the attendance of divine wor- 
 ship ; and amongst his papers was found one ad- 
 dressed to his master; in the time of his appren- 
 ticeship, earnestly requesting that he should have 
 his work allotted to him, that he might make pre- 
 paration for, and be at hberty to attend the week- 
 day meeting ; or that he might be allowed to pay 
 for the time thus spent, when the term of his ap- 
 prenticeship should be expired. 
 
 He came into Ireland, and settled within the 
 compass of Edenderry monthly meeting; soon 
 after which he appeared in public as a minister, 
 and freely devoted himself to spend and be spent 
 for the promotion of piety in the earth; being dili= 
 gent in the exercise of his gift, both at home and 
 abroad; and, on this account, travelled in Eng- 
 land, Scotland, and Wales; also in Holland and 
 America. V/hiie in America, in the year 1733, his 
 wife died, which was a deep and sore trial. He was 
 careful in the religious education of his children;, 
 and walked before them an example of humility, 
 firmness, and integrity. He was of a liberal dis- 
 position, and sympathized with the afflicted; kind 
 
^SO MUNGO BEWLEY. 
 
 to his neighbours, upright in his dealings, and 
 industrious in his business. He was much en- 
 gaged in transacting the discipline established in 
 the religious society to which he belonged, care- 
 ful in forming a judgment of what was for the 
 good thereof, tender over the well-meaning, but 
 prompt to discern those who were more in show 
 than substance. 
 
 His desire that he might hold out faithful to 
 the end was fulfilled; and the day before he took 
 his last illness, he bore a lively testimony in the 
 meeting of Edenderry. The next day, being at 
 his nephew Benjamin Wilson's, he complained of 
 indisposition, and prepared to return to his own 
 house, a few miles distant. His niece, alarmed at 
 the alteration in his looks, sent a person to accom- 
 pany him home. His ilhiess increased on the way 
 so much, that he needed support to prevent his 
 falling from his horse. In three days he peace- 
 fully departed this life, the 3d day of 3d month, 
 1 747, in the seventieth year of his age. 
 
 His son, Thomas Bewley, was highly esteemed 
 in the religious society to which he belonged, and 
 in which he held the station of an elder. He 
 was a tender husband, affectionate parent, and 
 kind master. He died in Dublin, the 5th of 3d 
 month, 1795, aged seventy-three. 
 
 From " Rutty's Rise and Progress," and " Testimonies of 
 public Friends deceased." 
 
2S1 
 
 GEORGE BEWLEY. 
 
 George Bewley was born in Cumberland, in the 
 year 1684. His parents, George and Mary Bew- 
 ley, were of the society of Friends, persons of 
 great worth and sincerity of heart, who endeavour- 
 ed to live according to what they professed, and 
 to train their children to walk in their steps. In 
 the seventh year of his age, George Bewley was 
 susceptible of religious impressions. He loved to 
 attend meetings, and therein his young heart was 
 melted with a sense of the goodness of his Maker ; 
 and he feared to yield to the allurements of play, 
 because he was thereby diverted from those con- 
 templations which afforded him the truest enjoy- 
 ment. The instances are not so rare as some may 
 imagine, of little children thus coming to their 
 Lord. The pure, innocent mind, attracted by 
 the love of what is good, may retain that feeling, 
 if it be not dissipated by the examples around. 
 When he was reviled by his schoolfellows, and 
 told that he was not a Christian, he considered 
 this imputation meant that he had not received 
 the rite of outward baptism ; and was fully satis- 
 fied that inward grace was sufficient, without any 
 visible sign, and that the baptism of Christ was of 
 a spiritual nature. 
 
 He passed through childhood careful of his 
 
GEORGE BEWLEY. * 
 
 words and actions, grieved when he felt any loss 
 of that innocency from which sprung his sweetest 
 enjoyment; and, when separated from his pious 
 parents, longed to return to their protection. He 
 was removed from them at the age of fourteen, 
 being placed in Dublin as an apprentice. In this 
 large and populous city he was preserved from 
 the surrounding snares, by the holy fear which 
 dwelt in his heart — the fear of offending his 
 Maker. He was careful to fulfil his duty faith- 
 fully to his master, and to be diligent in his ser- 
 vice; yet he was restrained from using many 
 unnecessary words in the way of trade, remem- 
 bering and feeling, that, " in the multitude of 
 words there wanteth not sin;" and Vv^hen his 
 watchfulness in this respect relaxed, conviction 
 and repentance followed. His corressondence 
 with his own family strengthened his good reso- 
 lutions, and he walked quietly along in a retired 
 path, till, by associating with young persons less 
 serious than himself, he was induced to indulge 
 in the gaiety of youth; and though preserved 
 from gross evils, he lost, by degrees, much of that 
 circumspection wherein safety consists, and began 
 to account those things trivial, which, in their 
 consequencc-s, are important. 
 
 At this time a meeting was appointed for young 
 persons; and before he went to it, George Bew- 
 ley considered whether his appearance was con- 
 formable to the advices of Friends ; intending, if 
 reproved for any latitude therein, to justify him- 
 
GEORGE BEWLEY. 2SS 
 
 self by argument. But in that meeting he was 
 fully convinced, that the care of faithful Friends^ 
 even in those minor matters, was for the good of 
 the young, whose duty and interest it was to con- 
 descend to those who had a clearer sight of the 
 dangers to which that season of Hfe was incident, 
 than their inexperience could be supposed to pos- 
 sess; and that the disregard of our testimonies, in 
 those respects, was injurious to the simplicity of 
 the profession, and often proved an inlet to greater 
 evils. To use George Bewley's own words: 
 " Great was the care and concern of faithful 
 elders in those days, in the city of Dublin, for the 
 preservation of the young generation out of the 
 evils that are in the world: they were good exam- 
 pies to us, and often advised and admonished us 
 for our good, not only in family visits, but at other 
 times ; and we generally received their counsel 
 well, and were thankful for it, and the well-in- 
 clined were helped thereby. There was a large 
 meeting in that city then, and many worthy minis- 
 ters and elders ; and Friends there were a plain, 
 humble, self-denying people, and had a great regard 
 to the advice, rules, and precepts of the ancients, 
 and were zealously concerned to observe them. 
 And in a good degree truth prospered, and Friends 
 were comforted in the Lord, and encouraged to 
 follow him faithfully, and were greatly concerned 
 that their children and YamiUes should do the 
 same." 
 
 After this, in a time of sickness, George Bewley 
 
S34 GEORGE BEWLEY. 
 
 was brought very low in his mind ; reproaching 
 himself for the ingratitude to that Power which 
 had followed him from childhood with mercies 
 and with judgments; and very desirous was he to 
 be restored to health, still more to be restored to 
 peace, covenanting to be more careful for the re- 
 mainder of his life. His desire was granted, and 
 his covenant kept. 
 
 After serving his apprenticeship, he visited his 
 parents ; and, on his return to Ireland, entered into 
 the employment of Joseph Hoare, of Cork, being 
 cautious of entering into business on his own ac- 
 count too soon, and desirous to obtain more expe- 
 rience. Of Joseph Hoare he says: "He was an 
 honest, good-natured, generous friend; his ser- 
 vice was very agreeable to me in many respects ; 
 and I had Hberty to attend meetings, both on first 
 and week-days, which was a great satisfaction to 
 me." 
 
 George Bewley was invited to sit in the meet- 
 ings of discipline, and observing the diligence and 
 care of faithful elders, he was glad of their reli- 
 gious oversight, and his heart joined with their 
 labour of love. Nor was he satisfied that his own 
 outward conversation and appearance were order- 
 ly, but was concerned that the work of God 
 should be carried on in his soul. He loved the 
 company of pious persons, and of those who came 
 in the love of the gospel to visit their brethren. 
 Of these, from the year 1706 to 1713, one hun- 
 dred and eight came to visit Cork, most of whom 
 
GEORGE BEWLEY. 235 
 
 were from England; and when George Bewley 
 accompanied them, as he often did, to adjacent 
 meetings, a great fear and care rested on his mind, 
 that he might not, in the least degree, do any 
 thing which should lessen the weight of their 
 services. 
 
 He continued with Joseph Hoare till \*712, 
 when he took to wife Blessing Fennell*, of Youg- 
 hall, who, he says, " proved a pious woman, and a 
 true help-meet to me, both inwardly and out^ 
 wardly." 
 
 In 1713 he felt a necessity laid on him to speak 
 a few words in meetings for worship, in which he 
 was encouraged by his friends; and he says: ''I 
 was greatly concerned to walk agreeable to what 
 I said in words, both in conversation and in my 
 trade and business; and a care was on my mind to 
 avoid the hurtful and unnecessary incumbrances 
 of this world, in which concern my wife joined 
 me." He now found himself united with his elder 
 brethren, in that engagement on behalf of others, 
 the benefit of which he had himself experienced ; 
 and in the year 1714, was invited by them to join 
 in visiting the families of Friends. 
 
 In the year 1721, he had the satisfaction of 
 entertaining at his own house, his venerable 
 father, then eighty years of age; and afterwards 
 of accompanying him, in religious visits, to some 
 
 * Daughter to William and Blessing Fennell, and grand* 
 daughter to Robert and Deborah Sandham. 
 
g36" GEORGE BEWLEY. 
 
 meetings in Munster and Leinster. These ser- 
 vices performed, his father returned home, and, 
 about four years afterwards, departed this Hfe. 
 
 In 17^2 there was a rumour of a conspiracy in 
 favour of the Stuart family, and it was believed 
 that persons disaffected to the existing govern- 
 ment, enlisted men and sent them to France, to 
 assist in a purposed invasion. Notwithstanding 
 their well-known peaceable principles, examina- 
 tions were lodged against George Bewley and 
 Thomas Beale, by two men, who, it was afterwards 
 discovered, had they succeeded in their villany in 
 this instance, would probably have gone greater 
 lengths, having had a Hst of several other Friends, 
 against whom they were prepared to inform. 
 George Bewley and his friend heard, with great 
 surprise and indignation, the accusation, which 
 represented them as united with those who in- 
 tended to subvert the government, of meeting 
 secretly for that purpose ; and the time and place 
 of their thus meeting was sworn to. Although 
 they were conscious of their own innocence, and 
 believed that the justice who took the examina- 
 tions considered them guiltless, they were not 
 quite free from alarm, as many persons in the 
 nation had suffered death on this charge. The 
 reward for conviction was so considerable, that it 
 ,was supposed some had most wrongfully been 
 sacrificed to the avarice of base informers, and they 
 knew not but this might be their own case. How- 
 ever, George Bewley recollected that he had been 
 
GEORGE BEWLEY. 237 
 
 from home at the time his enemies had fixed upon 
 to represent him concerned in this conspiracy; 
 and by the post-mark and date of a letter to his 
 wife, he convinced the magistrate that, on the 
 day on which he was accused of holding the trea- 
 sonable meeting, he was fifty miles from Cork, 
 The informers having by some means heard of 
 this, secured themselves from the punishment 
 which their perjury had Incurred, by a hasty 
 flight. 
 
 George Bewley was engaged in frequent visits 
 to the meetings of Friends in this nation, and 
 sometimes in Great Britain; and he says: " When 
 I was at home, I was diligent about my outward 
 affairs ; and it pleased the Lord to bless my in- 
 dustry, and increase business, which seemed to 
 require more constant attendance ; yet it became 
 my concern to order my affairs so that they might 
 not hinder me nor my family from constantly at- 
 tending meetings for worship, both on week-days 
 and first-days ; and I was dihgently concerned to 
 keep out of the unnecessary incumbrances of the 
 world, being afraid lest they should hinder me 
 from visiting my brethren, when the Lord moved 
 upon my heart to see how they fared. In this I 
 found peace and great inward satisfaction, and was 
 made sensible, that ' Godliness with contentment 
 is great gain ;' and though the leaving of outward 
 affairs may sometimes seem a loss, yet the Lord 
 is sufficient to make up all to those who are truly 
 
^S8 GiEORGE BEWLEY. 
 
 devoted to serve him, it being his blessing that 
 maketh truly rich." 
 
 Thus this exemplary man pursued his course; 
 and when infirmity of body came on him, was pre- 
 pared to receive what might be called evil from 
 the hand of his gracious Lord, who had so often 
 dispensed good to him. He was afflicted with 
 great weakness of his limbs; and, in the year 
 1746, vv^ent to Bath, by advice of his physicians, 
 where he grew worse, and returned home in a 
 hopeless state as to his health of body ; but his 
 dependance being on the Physician of value, the 
 unfailing Friend, his desires that his sufferings 
 might be sanctified to him, and patience given to 
 endure them, were granted, and after some time 
 he gradually and unexpectedly recovered the use 
 of his limbs, which he had lost. Though he 
 continued infirm, he attended meetings while he 
 was able; and when increasing weakness prevent- 
 ed, he pressed it upon those who came to visit 
 him, to do their day's work in the day-time; recur- 
 ring to the examples of ancient Friends, in their 
 diligence in attending meetings. It was a comfort 
 to him that he had not neglected this; but he 
 found all little enough, and that he had only done 
 his duty therein. Those expressions were utter- 
 ed with a tenderness of spirit which affected those 
 who heard him. 
 
 He was preserved in great patience and resig- 
 nation, yet desired, if consistent with the divine 
 will, to be removed to " where the wicked cease 
 
WILLIAM SPROULE. 289 
 
 from troubling, and the weary are at rest;" saying, 
 that he found, in the time of his greatest weak- 
 ness, the Lord near to support him. 
 
 He departed this hfe, at the age of sixty-five, 
 in great peace and quietness, without a sigh or 
 groan, the 1 1 th of 1 2th month, 1 749. 
 
 For an account of the dying expressions of 
 George Bewley's daughter Mary, who died in the 
 8th month, 1730, in her sixteenth year, see the 
 seventh part of " Piety Promoted." 
 
 From " Testimonies of public Friends deceased,'* and 
 °' George Bewley's JournaL" 
 
 WILLIAM SPROULE. 
 
 William Sproule was born at Toberet, in the 
 county of Westmeath, in 1674, of honest, reli- 
 gious parents, who educated him in the profession 
 of the Church of England. He was incHned to 
 virtue in early youth, and strict in attendance on 
 pubhc worship ; yet he became dissatisfied there- 
 with in his mind, and his father observing this, 
 recommended him to the bishop, and others of 
 the most eminent clergy, with whom he had many 
 conferences, but to httle satisfaction ; for he found 
 
240 WILLIAM SPROULE, 
 
 the performances which they recommended had 
 not contributed to his peace. He therefore be- 
 took himself to reading the Scriptures, to retire- 
 ment, and meditation, in which he felt comfort. 
 Being acquainted with some who belonged to the 
 religious society of Friends, and esteeming them, 
 he was desirous to be further informed of their 
 principles; and with this view he went to some of 
 their meetings, and increased his intimacy with 
 them, till, believing it right for him to unite with 
 them in religious profession, he informed his 
 father thereof, who affectionately told him that, 
 if he really thought it his duty to do so, he gave 
 him his free consent, and wished it might contri- 
 bute to his peace of mind. 
 
 Some years after he married amongst Friends, 
 and settled in the town of Athlone; where his 
 Christian-like life and becoming deportment, gain- 
 ed him the love and esteem of all ranks of people. 
 About the year 1 7oO, his mouth was opened in 
 the ministry, in which his services were very ac- 
 ceptable. He visited some meetings in the neigh- 
 bouring provinces, was freely given up to the 
 duties of the religious society of which he was a 
 member, and was particularly useful in family 
 visits. 
 
 William Sproule bore a painful illness with 
 much patience and resignation; and, sensible to 
 the closing period of hfe, he quietly departed, the 
 ^3d of 3d month, 1751. 
 
 From " Testimonies of public Friends deceased," 
 
'241 
 
 JONATHAN BARNES. 
 
 Jonathan Barnes, born in 1696, joined the 
 society of Friends about the 23d year of his age. 
 He had been a lover of dress, but became an ex- 
 ample of plainness and circumspection, and, after 
 some time, a minister ; and was concerned to visit 
 divers parts of this nation, and also England and 
 Scotland, with his worthy kinsman John Ashton. 
 He was an upright man, serviceable in supporting 
 the discipline, yet unassuming and lowly-minded; 
 cheerful, but not talkative; and in that good ser- 
 vice of visiting families of Friends, he was emi- 
 nently useful. He ruled well his own faimily; 
 was esteemed in the country, being industrious, 
 prudent, and benevolent. His house was open to 
 his friends, and he rejoiced to entertain those 
 engaged in ministerial labours. 
 
 In the latter part of his life he was afflicted with 
 bodily infirmity, and often went to meetings in 
 great pain. The day he died, he said, with much 
 sweetness and tenderness, " The God of Abra- 
 ham, Isaac, and Jacob, is my God : he called me 
 when I was in the wilderness. I have often read, 
 O death, where is thy sting? but now I can 
 speak of it by experience." After which, lying in 
 great stillness, he quietly breathed his last, the 
 18th of 5th month, 1751, aged fifty -five. 
 
 From " Testimonies of public Friends deceased.** 
 M 
 
242 
 
 ROBERT RICHARDSON. 
 
 Robert Richardson, who was born in 1668, was 
 a Fiiend much esteemed in the province of Ulster. 
 The testimony concerning him states, that he 
 joined the society of Friends, and led a life con- 
 sistent with the principles they profess. His 
 appearances in the ministry were not large, but 
 accompanied with the evidence of having a divine 
 command therefor. 
 
 He was zealously concerned for the prosperity 
 of that religious society to which he had joined 
 himself, and lamented when he saw its members 
 deviating from its precepts. And, having lived 
 circumspectly, when his long life was about to 
 close he could triumphantly say, '^ Now J know 
 that my Redeemer hveth: glory and honour to 
 his name for evermore." He died in the year 
 1756, aged eighty-eight; a minister near twenty 
 years. 
 
 Frojii " Testimonies of Public Friends deceased." 
 
ms 
 
 ANNE HART. 
 
 Anne Hart, born in 1671, was educated among 
 the Baptists; but when this people, to avoid per- 
 secution, discontinued meeting together in their 
 place for worship, she became thoughtful and 
 greatly troubled thereat; and observing that the 
 society of those called Quakers did not shrink 
 from suffering, she went to one of their meetings, 
 and was so reached by the visitation of truth in 
 her own mind and their lively ministry, and find- 
 ing the slanders raised against them were false, 
 that, at the tender age of thirteen years, she made 
 choice of their profession, and joined herself in 
 religious communion with them. 
 
 Her residence appears to have been in Cork. 
 She spoke as a minister acceptably, and to edifi- 
 cation; and, during the illness which terminated 
 her life, gave good counsel to her friends ; desk- 
 ing them to be weighty in their meetings for dis- 
 cipline, and give judgment impartially, without 
 favour or affection. She related to them some of 
 her religious experience, in an affecting manner. 
 She was esteemed and beloved; and departed this 
 life, at the age of eighty-six, in the year 1757. 
 
 From " Testimonies of puMic Friends deceased." 
 M 2 
 
^44 
 
 ELIZABETH BALFOUR. 
 
 Elizabeth, the daughter of James and Sarali 
 Tomey, of Limerick, was born in the year 
 1717. She was, by walking in the fear of the 
 Lord, which is the beginning of vvisdom, co-ope- 
 rating with the great advantage of a rehgious 
 education, preserved in her early years from the 
 follies incident to youth; being a dutiful child, 
 and a joy and comfort to her parents, and, by her 
 example and advice, fitted to guide the younger 
 branches of the family. 
 
 About the twenty-second year of her age, she 
 believed it required of her to declare, in public 
 testimony, those truths which she would rather 
 have chosen to continue to inculcate by her quiet 
 walking in private: yet, hard as it was to her 
 nature thus to expose herself, she found that in 
 submitting to the command, she could alone find 
 peace, and therefore gave up to it. In her minis- 
 terial capacity, she visited the meetings of Friends 
 in this nation, some parts several times : also the 
 south-west parts of England, in company with 
 Elizabeth Pease. Her ministry was plain, living, 
 and powerful. She was also serviceable in meet- 
 ings of discipUne, and in family visits ; a work she 
 much approved of, and which she entered upon 
 with awfulness and fear, sensible that Divine Wis- 
 
ELIZABETH BALFOtTR. M5 
 
 dom alone can qualify for the faithful perform- 
 ance of so important an engagement. 
 
 She married Archibald Balfour, a worthy elder 
 of Waterford, who testifies that, " in the station 
 of a wife, she was tender and sympathizing be- 
 yond what can be expressed in words, or ever 
 understood, except by those who have been 
 favoured with such a blessing." 
 
 Yet, pious as was her life, the prospect of 
 death was to her very awful; and, weeping bit- 
 terly, she said, " My pain and weakness is so 
 great, that I think I cannot hold long: I am so 
 distressed and poor in mind, that I fear I am not 
 prepared for it." But this cloud passed away, 
 after some painful days of inward conflict, and she 
 then said, " Not my will, but thine, O Lord, be 
 done. Now death seems near, and I am willing, 
 having got an evidence of eternal peace." 
 
 Her dying advice and her fervent prayers 
 flowed as streams of consolation, to those who 
 mourned for their impending loss, and beheld her 
 extreme suflTering. " This is hard work," she 
 said; " the affliction of this body is very great; 
 and it is an awful thing thus to look the Almighty 
 in the face; yet, through mercy, I am free from 
 any guilt that I know of. Oh ! if it be so dread- 
 ful for those that have led pretty circumspect 
 lives, what will become of those that are loaded 
 with the guilt of sin ? If the righteous scarcely 
 be saved, where shall the wicked and ungodly ap 
 pear?" Adding, "And there is no mortal tha 
 
^46 SAMUEL WATSON. 
 
 can give any help to remove the guilt of sin, at 
 such a time as this; so let none deceive them- 
 selves with such notions, for, if they do, they will 
 find it a deceit." 
 
 Her desire for a suspension of pain before her 
 departure, was mercifully granted ; and it is be- 
 lieved she entered into that rest which is prepared 
 for the righteous. She departed this life the 1st 
 of 8th month, 1758, aged forty-one. 
 
 From " TestiiBonies of public Friends deceased." 
 
 SAMUEL Vv^ATSON. 
 
 Samuel Watson, born in. the year 1686, was the 
 worthy successor of his honourable father, John 
 J-ohn Watson, [see p. 1 25.] He succeeded him, 
 not only in his outward possessions, but in sup- 
 porting a character, and holding forth an example, 
 which obtained general esteem and love. Blessed 
 with the great advantage of a religious education, 
 he became sensible, even in his childhood, of the 
 precious influence of divine goodness; and grew 
 up in sobriety, circumspection, and in the favour 
 of God and good men, being preserved, through 
 
SAMUEL WATSON. S47 
 
 the dangerous path of youth, from the evils that 
 are in the workl. 
 
 In 1709, he married Susanna Nicholson, with 
 whom he had previously formed a friendship, 
 founded on the firm basis of mutual esteem and 
 similarity of sentiment; each having, in the morn- 
 ing of the day, chosen the path of self-denial — that 
 path which leads to peace. The union of such 
 minds, as might be expected, wa,s productive of 
 great comfort to each other, and of unspeakable 
 advantage to their children ; for whom their hearts^ 
 when sitting in retirement with them, were often 
 poured forth in desire for the preservation of the 
 beloved objects of their solicitude. 
 
 In the year 1712, Susanna Watson appeared as 
 a public r/iinister. Her reluctance to yield to this 
 requisition of duty, cost her much distress of body 
 and mind. Her health did not permit her to go 
 much from home, but a service, more trying to her 
 delicate, timid nature, than paying rehgious visits 
 to her friends, was required of her; and her in- 
 ward conflict on this account was great, and ma- 
 terially affected her health for some time. She at 
 length yielded submission to this duty, and, in 
 consequence, went to the public worship-house at 
 Fenagh, while the clergyman was officiating. 
 When he had done, she stood up, and addressed 
 the congregation, directing them to the true 
 teacher, and exhorting them to accept the offers 
 of salvation through Jesus Christ. She was heard 
 with attention and respect, and returned home, 
 
^48 SAMUEL WATSON. 
 
 rewarded with that peace, which was the conse- 
 quence of her obedience. She had, before the 
 performance of this service, laid her concern be- 
 fore some of her experienced friends, who encoU" 
 raged her to fulfil that which they, as well as her- 
 self, believed was required of her. Thus faithful 
 to her duties, public and private, this exemplary 
 woman was preparing to enter the kingdom of rest. 
 Her illness was lingering^ and when her weakness 
 was great, she attended the quarterly and monthly 
 meetings. Her infirmity increasing, Friends met 
 with her in her own house ; and when not able to 
 walk, she was carried down stairs to sit with them. 
 Far beyond all sublunary enjoyments, she felt the 
 evidence of her future happiness, and removal of 
 all doubts, v.hich she expressed with trembling 
 and tears of gratitude to, and admiration of, the 
 condescension and mercy of her gracious Re- 
 deemer. In her last sitting in meeting, she bore 
 testimony to the all-sufficiency of the divine power, 
 and pressed it upon those present to serve the 
 Lord above ail, in which they would find their 
 great advantage at the close of life ; and concluded 
 thus: " You cannot serve God and the world." 
 She lived but one day after this; and when her 
 mourning husband enquired if she had any thing, 
 on her mind respecting him or her children, she 
 paused, and replied: " God is all-sufficient for 
 thee and thine : I doubt not but you will do well." 
 She said little more: her thoughts seemed much 
 livithdrawn from all earthly objects, and she quietly 
 
SAMUEL WATSON. 249 
 
 passed away, the 2d of 4th month, 1726, in the 
 thirty-ninth year of her age. 
 
 Bereft of the wife of his youth, and the mother 
 of his children, Samuel Watson was supported 
 under this close trial, by the merciful hand that in 
 wisdom had ordained the stroke which severed 
 this dearest earthly tie. Continuing watchful over 
 his own conduct, and distrustful of his own reso- 
 lutions, relying on Him who could alone enable 
 him to keep them, he became more and more an 
 example of pious circumspection, and therefore 
 qualified to impart counsel to others, and accept- 
 ably to fill the station of an elder. 
 
 His second wife was Abigail, the widow of John 
 Boles, who, when a maiden, by name Craven, was 
 engaged in public ministry, and travelled with 
 Elizabeth Jacob, through Scotland, in the year 
 1712. After her marriage with John Boles, she 
 visited the American continent, leaving home in 
 the year 1725, and returning in 1727. She was 
 five times in England on a religious account, and 
 frequently engaged thus in her native land. Her 
 services were very acceptable: she was not only 
 highly esteemed for her eminent services in the 
 ministry, but for her pious life and conversation in 
 her own family and neiglibourhood. She was of 
 a frank disposition, and a courageous spirit; not 
 afraid to reprove those who deserved it, of what 
 rank soever. Simplicity and humility w^ere con- 
 spicuous in her character: she desired not ap- 
 M 3 
 
^50^ SAMUEL WATSON. 
 
 plause; was ready to give way to others, and to 
 prefer them to herself. She encouraged the 
 youth to obedience to theu' good Master, and was 
 fervent in prayers on their account, and, for her- 
 self, that she might not dwindle in old age. She 
 was bountiful to the poor, and often, when on 
 family visits, discovering wants among Friends in 
 iow circumstances, which they were not willing to 
 make public, she assisted them privately. She 
 had no children ; but to those of both her hus- 
 bands, she was as a mother, who entirely won 
 their love. Devoted to the will of her heavenly 
 Master, and finding herself released from engage- 
 ments to travel abroad, about a year before her 
 death she was sensible that her departure drew 
 nigh; and, saying she found her work was done, 
 and nothing in her way, resigned herself to en- 
 dure patiently her bodily infirmities. They were 
 great, so great that she earnestly longed to be re- 
 leased from painful life, yet saying: "The Lord's 
 time is the best." Like her worthy predecessor, 
 she attended the meetings held in her house; like 
 her was carried down stairs to sit in them, when 
 unable to walk ; and, like her, was enabled to ex- 
 ercise her gift in them, when enduring great v/eak- 
 ness, being "strong in the Lord, and in the power 
 of his might." She was engaged in prayer about 
 two hours before her departure, and then quietly 
 expired, as one falling asleep, the 11th of the 11th 
 
SAMUEL WATSON. 251 
 
 month, 1752, in the sixty-eighth year of her age, 
 and fortieth of her ministry. 
 
 Samuel Watson's testimony concerning her thus 
 concludes : " She was exemplary in her family, for 
 diligence and industry; helpful to the poor; a 
 tender, affectionate wife to me, and mother to my 
 children ; and such a sweet harmony subsisted to 
 the last, that I do not remember ever any differ- 
 ence betM^een them, nor an angry word. I may 
 truly say, she was made a blessing to me and 
 mine, and many more; and, as we were truly 
 united together, in the bond of love and hfe, we 
 were many times made one another's joy in the 
 Lord: so that her loss to us is great, but her 
 everlasting gain." 
 
 A third time Samuel Watson entered into the 
 married state. He took to wife Deborah, the 
 widow of Henry Fuller, and daughter of John 
 Barcroft. 
 
 He was deservedly esteemed for his usefulness 
 in civil as well as religious society; and in his 
 general services, his services in his own monthly 
 meeting, or in his more private conferences with 
 his friends and family, it was apparent that he 
 dwelt near the fountain of divine excellence. He 
 often desired, in his declining years, when his 
 natural strength and faculties gradually decayed, 
 that he might never survive the inward sense and 
 feeling, of that which is the hfe of the soul. Thus 
 peacefully he lived, thus peacefully he died, at his^ 
 
252 
 
 ANNE GRUBB. 
 
 house at Kilconner, the Hth of 5th month, 1762^ 
 aged seventy-six years. 
 
 From " Piety Promoted," 8th Part ; from the Testimony 
 of Carlow Monthly Meeting ; and from accounts given by his 
 family. 
 
 ANNE GRUBB. 
 
 Anne, the only daughter of Wilham and Mary 
 Willan, was born at Lambstown, in the county of 
 Wexford, in the year 1688. Her mother's name 
 had been Watton, she was a native of London, 
 and incurred the displeasure of her parents, by 
 joining the society of Friends; in consequence 
 whereof she came into Ireland, and was received 
 nito the family of John Tottenham, a member of 
 that society, residing in the county of Wexford,, 
 where she remained till her marriage with Wil- 
 liam Willan. 
 
 Their daughter Anne was married at an early 
 age to John, son of John and Elizabeth Grubb, of 
 Annis, county of Kilkenny. They lived on a farm 
 at Meyler's Park, near Ross, where, it appears, 
 they were comfortably settled ; and meetings were 
 frequently held at their house, to which several of 
 their religiously-disposed neighbours came. This 
 
ANNE GRUBB. 25S 
 
 drew upon them the displeasure of the clergyman 
 of the parish, which he made them feel, to their 
 temporal inconvenience. A person who was also 
 of the society of Friends, a man of property, see- 
 ing how much this industrious man was harassed, 
 encouraged him to take one of his farms, and to 
 remove to the county of Tipperary. John Grubb 
 was persuaded to do so ; and the Friends whom he 
 left, in their certificate to the county of Tipperary 
 monthly meeting, dated 27th of 5th month, 1719, 
 testified of him and his wife, thus r "They behaved 
 themselves orderly in their conversation, and were 
 members of our men's and women's meeting *, and 
 of service amongst us, particularly in the quarter 
 where they are now missed; and were well beloved 
 by Friends, and of a good report in their neigh- 
 bourhood, and their continuance amongst us was 
 very desirable." 
 
 On their leaving Meyler's Park, the meeting 
 occasionally held at their house dropped, and they 
 had reason to believe that their removal had been 
 made without due consideration — without waiting 
 to know the will of Providence concerning them, 
 who had cared for them in their setting out in Ufe ; 
 and that, in their leaving their late residence, they 
 were influenced by a desire to shun those persecu- 
 tions under which he was able to support them. 
 
 " The meetings for discipline were not, at that time, in Ire- 
 land, open to all the members of the Society, as, for nearlj 
 the last fifty years, they have been, but only to such whose 
 conduct v/as most exemplary. 
 
g54 ANNE GllUBB. 
 
 They had been but a short time in their new 
 abode, when a variety of calamities overtook them: 
 a barn, which they had built, fell down; their 
 springing crops were devoured by an insect, and 
 perished before the time of maturity; a severe 
 w^inter came on, many of their cattle died, the re- 
 mainder was seized for rent: they left the farm, 
 and experienced the distresses of poverty. Dis- 
 couraged by those losses, Joim Grubb accepted 
 the offer of a merchant in Vfaterford, to go to 
 America, and there superintend the building of a 
 ship. On the passage he observed conduct de- 
 serving reproof, in the captain of the vessel in 
 w^hich he sailed, and he accordingly reproved him. 
 The captain, enraged, swore he would be revenged 
 on him for his interlerence. The afflicted man, 
 while away from his family and country, was thus 
 exposed to the fraud or violence of one who de- 
 clared himself his enemy. 
 
 Meantime, his excellent wife exerted the ener- 
 gies of her body and mind, to support her chil- 
 dren; yet, encountering the difficulty of narrow 
 circumstances, and nursing twin babes*, she was 
 diligent in her attendance of religious meetings* 
 One day she omitted this duty, but the conviction 
 that she had erred in this omission was so painful, 
 that she was carefai not to repeat it; and her de- 
 portment in those assemblies, bewrayed that her 
 mind was centered in divine contemplation. 
 
 • Eenjamin Gnibb and Anne Sparrow. 
 
ANNE GRUBB. 255 
 
 Elizabeth Fennel, (then Pease,) a minister much 
 esteemed, touched with sympathy for this afflicted 
 friend, paid her a visit. It was a time of great 
 distress in the land ; and, on her way, she saw a 
 man lying dead, who had apparently perished 
 through want. She found Anne Grubb and her 
 children in a very poor cabin, and with the marks 
 of great poverty about her ; but was instrumental 
 in comforting her depressed mind, by thus ad- 
 dressing her: "The case of Naomi came before 
 me ; and though it may appear to thee, as it did to 
 her, that the Lord hath dealt bitterly with thee, 
 yet his love and mercy are underneath, and will 
 be manifested to thee and to thy children." 
 
 This prophecy was fulfilled: her industrj^, and 
 the industry of her family, was blessed, in process 
 of time, with the fatness of the earth ; their chief 
 desire having been to obtain the dew of heaven. 
 But, for a considerable season, the good mother 
 struggled through difficulties, looking towards the 
 cheering prospect of her husband's return. That 
 return, hov/ever, was impeded by circumstances of 
 an afflicting nature. The offended captain had 
 too well kept his promise of revenge: when he 
 came back to Waterford, be represented John 
 Grubb to his employer, as having built his ship 
 unnecessarily large ; adding other charges, which 
 induced the merchant to withdraw his affairs from 
 his hands, without furnishing him with the means 
 of fulfilling the engagements entered into. There- 
 fore, v/hile John Grubb planned a settlement in 
 
gSB ANNE GRUBK. 
 
 that country for himself and his family, he was 
 thrown into prison for the debts contracted in the 
 course of his employment. Conscious that he was 
 acting with integrity, this was a blow as unexpect- 
 ed as unjust. His future prospects were all clouded; 
 and when, at length, he returned to his native coun- 
 try, producing certificates from several magistrates 
 of the county of Burlington, also from the monthly 
 meetings of Friends of that place, testifying his 
 honourable conduct and diligence in the service of 
 his employer ; yet this employer, notwithstanding^ 
 refused to pay him for his services. A few months 
 after he had rejoined his family, an inflammation 
 of the lungs, in a short time, removed this afflicted 
 man from them and from life, in the year IToO. 
 
 On the widow again devolved the care and sup^ 
 port of her young charge. She was successful in 
 the management of a farm ; her circumstances be- 
 came more easy, and she was enabled to exer- 
 cise hospitality to her friends, and benevolence to 
 the poor; virtues which she possessed in an emi-' 
 nent degree. Her activity was a means of pre- 
 serving her in general good health, during a long 
 life; and, about the age of seventy, she has fre- 
 quently walked, or rode single on horseback, to 
 meeting at Clonmel, feeling but little of the infir^ 
 mities of age. She was confined to the house for 
 several months before the termination of her valu^ 
 able life. She felt her end draw nigh, with calm 
 fortitude ; expressed something of the comfort she 
 felt in reflecting that she had not neglected her 
 
GHARRET VAN HASSEN. 25% 
 
 religious duties, particularly the attendance of 
 meetings ; earnestly recommended to her children 
 the care of her orphan grandson* ; and passed 
 quietly away from this world of trial, in the year 
 1765, aged seventy-seven. 
 
 From MS. 
 
 GHARRET VAN HASSEN. 
 
 Gharret Van Hassen, an ancient Friend of 
 Dublin, born in Holland, about the year 1695, 
 was a signal instance of the mercy and long for- 
 bearance of a gracious God ; having been favour- 
 ed with a divine and powerful visitation, about the- 
 fortieth year of his age, and thereby reclaimed 
 from a state of unregeneracy and sin, witnessing 
 true repentance. He joined in society with 
 Friends, and his relation of this event may be given 
 in his own words, the reader making allowance 
 for the language, learned late in life: "It came to 
 pass, that, in the fortieth year of my age, that I 
 left Holland, and came to England, in order to 
 take shipping at London for Philadelphia, there 
 to settle. The week I intended to set out, I was 
 
 • John Taylor. 
 
258 GHARRET VAN HASSEN. 
 
 taken with the gout, which I never had before ; 
 and before I was recovered, the ship went out, and 
 left me behind. Within two weeks after, it was in 
 the newspapers that this same ship was lost, and 
 all that were in it. Oh! that such a deliverance 
 may be as a seal upon my mind. From London I 
 removed to Colchester, and there settled, working 
 at my trade, which was wool-combing. I joined 
 with a Dutch society, which was in this place, 
 where the minister preached in my own language. 
 And it came to pass, one day, after our society 
 broke up, in the way towards my lodging I came 
 near the meetiug-house of the people called Qua- 
 kers; and seeing people standing in the yard, 
 with their hats off, I went in and stood amongst 
 them, as near to the door as I well could, and 
 heard the voice of a woman in prayer ; which so 
 affected me, that I wept bitterly, and in that frame 
 went to my lodging. The next morning I went 
 to the minister of our society, and said to him: 
 'Sir, something is the cause of my coming to you.' 
 He asked me what it was ? Then I said: ' Sir, I 
 never remember to have shed a tear under all 
 your doctrine ; and yesterday I heard a woman, 
 not understanding, a word she said, yet it made 
 such an alarm in the book of my conscience, that 
 if I was to die this night, I fear I am not fit for 
 God nor his kingdom. What, Sir, (said I,) can 
 be the meaning of this?' To which he replied: 
 * The woman is a witch, and has bewitched you.' 
 Upon this I asked what this people were ? Then 
 
GHARRET VAN HASSEN. 259 
 
 he asked me if I had a mind to be a Quaker? I 
 answered : * Nay, God forbid ; but before I go to 
 heaven I must be a good Christian.' To which 
 he replied: 'Then you must not go among them, 
 for they are not Christians.' Then, immediately, 
 that text of Scripture came before me, That dark- 
 ness hateth the light, because your deeds are evil. 
 He parted from me in great anger; and^ the suc- 
 ceeding week, I went to the Quaker's meeting, 
 when a public Friend, called Sarah Lay, stood up 
 and spoke a few words. But I could not under- 
 stand one word, being a stranger to the language; 
 neither did what she said affect me. And so I came 
 back out of the meeting, concluding in my mind to 
 go the next week; but if the woman was not then 
 there whose voice affected me the week before, I 
 resolved never to go again. The next week, ac^ 
 cording to intention, I went again ; and, in a short 
 time, Mary Wyatt (then unknown to me) came in, 
 and soon after kneeled down to prayer. Then, 
 being greatly affected, I cried, in secret : * What a 
 pity it is that all the world is not of one language! 
 If so, I should know what this woman saith.' 
 From henceforward I have continued amongst 
 Friends, and am now, at the time of writing this, in 
 the fifty-eighth year of my age; about eighteen 
 years from the time of my convincement." 
 
 Being, through faithfulness, led in the paths of 
 piety, and love to God and men, he became a 
 minister, and was a fervent labourer, zealous in his 
 testimony against the inordinate love of the worlds 
 
260 GHARRET VAN HASSITN. 
 
 affectionately tender to the youth, and solicitous^ 
 for their preservation from the temptations incident 
 to their time of Ufe. 
 
 In the year 1737, Gharret Van Hassen came to 
 Ireland; and, for the most part of his remaining: 
 time, resided in Dublin. He visited the meetings 
 of Friends in Great Britain; and, in the year 
 1747, performed a visit to most, or all the families 
 of Friends in Ireland, and also to such as had in- 
 curred the censure of the society; in which la- 
 bour he was well received, for his heart overflow- 
 ed with charity. 
 
 Simple in his manners, and unassuming; indus- 
 trious and independent; living alone, and with 
 great neatness, though in very limited circum- 
 stances, he was respected as well as beloved. It 
 is related of him, that, traveUing alone in Scotland, 
 during the hostilities exercised in 1745, he was 
 stopped by mihtary men, who enquired: "What 
 king are you for ?" The answer to this question 
 was hazardous; but the lionest-hearted man re- 
 plying, " I am for the King of heaven," he was 
 suffered to proceed unmolested on his way. 
 
 During the latter part of his life, he was greatly 
 afflicted with bodily infirmities, disabling him, in a 
 great measure, for public service: but he still re- 
 tained his love to God and man, and at or near 
 the time of his conclusion, had the comfortable as- 
 surance of his approaching removal to a better 
 Btate; saying, "I am going to your Father and my 
 Father; to your God, and my God. I die daily, 
 
JOHN RUTTY. 
 
 nevertheless I live, and not I, but Christ liveth in 
 me." He departed this life the 30th of 6ch month, 
 1765, aged about seventy; a minister upwards of 
 twenty-eight years. 
 
 From " Piety Promoted," 8th Part; and MS. 
 
 JOHN RUTTY. 
 
 John Rutty, a native of England, born in 1699, 
 was educated among, and made profession with 
 the society of Friends. He appears to have been 
 susceptible of religious impressions at an early 
 age; for, in his thirteenth year, when aliout to be 
 removed to a school where there was danger of 
 these impressions being effaced, he poured forth 
 a prayer for preservation. He was endowed with 
 superior talents, which were cultivated by a lite- 
 rary education; yet his eager thirst for knowledge 
 was somewhat checked by the conviction that it 
 was not the one thing needful. 
 
 Having finished his medical education in Hol- 
 land, he commenced the practice of physic in the 
 twenty-fifth year of his age. In 1724 he settled 
 in Dublin. He says: "I now made a covenant 
 witli my Maker." And as he kept this covenant, a 
 
t62 JOHN RUTTY. 
 
 blessing attended him; and, whether considered 
 as a member of his own reUgious society, or of the 
 community at large, he was eminently useful and 
 respected. Though his medical skill was in high 
 repute, he avoided ostentation; and his dress, ad- 
 dress, and manner of living, were consistent with 
 the simplicity of his religious profession. His 
 charity to the poor was manifested, not only by 
 advice and assistance, when they came to him, 
 but in visiting them at their own dwellings. In 
 the capacity of an elder he frequently imparted 
 suitable admonition and counsel. He was much 
 engaged in supporting the discipline of the so- 
 ciety; and esteemed the visits paid to the families 
 of Friends, by appointment of the meeting, to be 
 a valuable part of it. In conjunction with his 
 friend John Gough, (occasionally joined by other 
 friends,) they held a meeting once a month, in the 
 school-room v^^ith John's pupils. This continued 
 for some time, and seems to have been satisfactory. 
 
 John Rutty was affable and social, tender and 
 compassionate, and beloved by his friends. He 
 ^vas the author of some esteemed medical works, 
 of a history of the " Rise and Progress of the 
 People called Quakers in Ireland," and of a trea- 
 tise on the discipline of that society. He left a 
 spiritual diary, to be published after his death, 
 from the manuscript copy in its original form; 
 and the testimony given forth by Friends of Dub- 
 lin, concerning him, concludes with the following: 
 " The remembrance of his useful services has en- 
 
JAMES DOYLE, 26S 
 
 deared his memory to us and to many more. In 
 a good old age he departed this life, with thanks- 
 giving to God; we beheve, in the fruition of the 
 renewed foretaste of those good things which God 
 has in store for those that love him." 
 
 He died the 27th of 4th month, 1775, aged 
 seventy-six. 
 
 JAMES DOYLE. 
 
 James Doyle, the son of Peter and Mary Doyle, 
 was born at Cooladine, county of Wexiord, in the 
 year 1716. His father, Peter Doyle, in early life 
 experienced an orphan state, being deprived by 
 death of his father, when a child ; and the subse- 
 quent marriage of his mother proved so disagree- 
 able to him, that he left the place of his birth, 
 and sought an asylum with a person belonging to 
 the society of Friends. He was a thoughtless 
 youth, it appears, till his mind was awakened by 
 the circumstance of his bed taking fire, in conse- 
 quence of his neglect to extinguish his candle. 
 This he discovered in time to save his life; and 
 the escape from death, and such a death, impress- 
 ed him with an awful sense of his inward unpre- 
 pared state, and induced a strict examination of 
 
264 JAMES DOYLE. 
 
 himself. His change of heart was followed by 
 his joining the religious society of Friends. He 
 had been educated in the profession of the church 
 of Rome. He led an exemplary hfe, as did his 
 wife ; both attained to a good old age, and died 
 at Ballinacarig, in the county of Carlow, having 
 carefully brought up a large family. 
 
 James was their second son. He was sensible 
 of the love extended by his gracious Creator to 
 his soul, when he was young; and, walking in the 
 fields, or pursuing his business of husbandry, as 
 well as in meetings for worshipping the Author of 
 Love, his heart has been melted, and the silent 
 expression of tears bewrayed his feelings. His 
 friends, who perceived this tenderness of spirit, 
 united to a humble, modest demeanour, and cir- 
 cumspect conduct, were strongly attached to him; 
 and those who came on the gospel errand, dis- 
 cerned in the unassuming youth the promise of 
 a useful member of society. The secret conflicts 
 of his soul were not unnoticed by them; and they 
 encouraged him to submit to what the Lord 
 should require of him, which appeared to him to 
 be, that he also should bear a public testimony to 
 the truth in which he believed. Though con- 
 vinced that this was his duty, he suffered his 
 natural diffidence so to prevail, that he withheld 
 the sacrifice which he should have offered. This 
 brought great distress upon him; and peace, on 
 any terms, being his desire, when he again felt the 
 -command issued, he was obedient, and was richly 
 
JAMES DOYLE. 265 
 
 rewarded by the sweet consciousness of having 
 done his duty. 
 
 He continued for some years engaged in this 
 service, though not in many words; but reasoning 
 too much with flesh and blood, and supposing he 
 could not be of the use which others were of, his 
 mind became perplexed with doubts and fears, 
 and wanting that resignation to the divine will 
 which fits for the ministration of the gospel, he 
 ceased to be employed by his divine Master in 
 that service. He dared not to meddle with sacred 
 things unauthorized by the divine command; and 
 he dreaded that he had incurred the displeasure 
 of Him who had before appointed him to that 
 office, and that the blood of those whom he had not 
 warned of the evil of their ways would be required 
 of him; which brought distress upon him, till he 
 trembled from the agitation of his mind. 
 
 About the thirtieth year of his age, on his mar- 
 riage with Elizabeth Ailment, he removed to the 
 city of Cork. He endured the affliction of losing 
 her, and two sons. His second wife was Mary 
 King, the mother of a hopeful family, whom it 
 was his care to train up in the way they should 
 go. 
 
 Though he did not find it required of him to 
 appear as a public minister for several years, yet 
 he apprehended he should at some time be again 
 commissioned to do so ; and to be excused from 
 this, he was willing to lay down his life, if the 
 
 N 
 
266 JAMES DOYLE. 
 
 sacrifice would be accepted. But the Master 
 whom he served was to be obeyed in the way 
 which he directed; and he who desired to serve 
 him was not to choose the manner of performing 
 the service, nor to offer aught instead of obedi- 
 ence. 
 
 After twenty years' silence in public meetings, 
 James Doyle received the command again to 
 preach the gospel, was faithful in the discharge 
 of this office, and continued so to the end of his 
 life. When he spoke in public it was with ten- 
 derness and diffidence, which added to the im- 
 pression his communications had made. He tra- 
 velled little as a minister. His services at home 
 were to edification : he evidently sought for divine 
 help in accompHshing them. His visits to the 
 families of Friends were well received : it was a 
 ■^vork he much approved of, and his innocent life, 
 lowly mind, and steady walking, gained the love 
 and esteem of his friends, his neighbours, and 
 even of those whose conduct fell far short of his 
 example. 
 
 Thus lived this pious man; and when his natu- 
 ral strength gave way to gradual decline, his spirit 
 was strengthened by divine favour. To his 
 friends who visited him, he was often led to com- 
 municate consolation and counsel; and having 
 borne a tedious illness with Christian fortitude 
 .and resignation, he departed this life the 4th of 
 ISth month, 1778, aged sixty-two. 
 
 From Testimony of Cork Monthly Meeting, and a MS. 
 
267 
 
 JAMES GOUGH. 
 
 James Gough was born at Kendal in Westmor- 
 land, in the year 1712. His parents were of the 
 society of Friends, and educated him carefully in 
 the principles thereof. Having uncommon quick- 
 ness of perception, he made considerable proficiency 
 at school, especially in classical literature ; and as 
 his stature was small for his age, his attainments 
 appeared the more extraordinary, and introduced 
 him to the notice of persons of consequence in 
 his neighbourhood, who admired him not only for 
 his learning and ready answers to difficult ques- 
 tions, but for the gaiety and sweetness of his tem- 
 per, chastened by ingenuous modesty. One of 
 those persons promised, that, if the parents of the 
 favourite Uttle boy would resign him to his care^ 
 he would send him to the university, where his 
 talents should receive the highest cultivation. 
 This offer, gratefully acknowledged, was respect- 
 fully declined; but it ex ited the ambition, and 
 flattened the vanity of the child. These dispo- 
 sitions were, however, in degree, counter-balanced 
 by the examples of humility and sobriety, which 
 at home, and in the families of the friends of his 
 parents, were presented to his view; and his 
 young heart was sometimes impressed with feari 
 
 N ^ 
 
268 JAMES GOUGH. 
 
 and sometimes with love, in contemplating them. 
 After mentioning the effect which the ministry of 
 one of those friends had upon his youthful mind, he 
 remarks *' the advantage that accrues to religious 
 society and to meetings, where they are favoured 
 with a numher of faithful elders, living ministers, 
 and spiritually-minded friends, men of truth, 
 ' fearing God and hating covetousness.' The live- 
 liness of their spirits, the clearness of their sight, 
 and the uniformity of their conduct and conver- 
 sation, qualify them to show the people how they 
 should walk, by precept and example: precepts 
 drawn from the living spring of experience, and 
 examples formed by a watchful attention to the 
 pointings and limitations of truth. I remember 
 some whose very countenance seemed to command 
 awe, and impress observers with serious consi- 
 deration. As the salt of the earth, seasoning 
 those amongst whom they walked, with a sense of 
 the truth which lived and predominated in them ; 
 under the powerful influence thereof, these kept 
 up meetings both for worship and discipline; and 
 were enabled thereby to keep things in good 
 order, as themselves were a good savour in their 
 allotments. On the other hand we may observe, 
 that, where the elders and active friends are not 
 under this qualification, but, under the form, are 
 suffering their hearts to go after their covetous- 
 ness, secretly departing from under the influence 
 of this divine principle, the cause and prevalence 
 of truth too often declines amongst the different 
 
JAMES GOUGH. .^69 
 
 ranks of the people, as in the day when a stand- 
 ard-bearer fainteth." 
 
 The tenderness of a mother's love was wisely 
 directed to the future benefit of him and her 
 other children. She accustomed them to frugal 
 fare, useful employment, and to the subjection of 
 their wills. This care demanded, and doubtless 
 obtained their gratitude, though, perhaps, the 
 value of such an education was not appreciated at 
 the time; for James Gough acknowledges that he 
 often made excuses, to escape the employment 
 which his mother had prepared for him in the 
 intervals of school : yet even then he was sensible 
 of his obligation to her, and afterwards expressed 
 his belief, that he enjoyed a better state of health 
 from being brought up in this hardy way, his con- 
 stitution having been but weak and tender. 
 
 In his fifteenth year he became an assistant in 
 David Hall's school at Skipton, and went to 
 Liverpool, to improve himself in some branches of 
 learning. While there he met with a remarkable 
 accident, the relation of which may serve as a 
 warning to those likely to incur such a danger. 
 " One first-day afternoon, I went with some other 
 boys boating in the dock; which, by means of 
 iiood-gates, was kept so full of water as to keep 
 the ships afloat when the tide was out. We 
 rowed several times from one end of the dock to 
 the other. At length some rude boys, that were 
 stronger than we, took from us our oars, and this 
 in all probability proved the means of our pre- 
 
S70 JAMES GOUGH. 
 
 servation; for we found ourselves obliged to work 
 our way with our hands by the ships, to the uppet 
 end of the dock, which, just as we reached, we 
 heard a noise, as of the loudest thunder. Climbing 
 up from the boat to the quay, we soon found that 
 the dock-gates, being grown old, were broken 
 down. The water, rushing out in a rapid torrent, 
 bore down all before it, oversetting and greatly 
 damaging several vessels that lay near them. The 
 frightful nearness of such a danger and narrov/ 
 escape from it, so affected my mind as to invade 
 my sleep that night, and repeat itself again to my 
 imagination with aggravations of horror." 
 
 He spent four or five years with David Hall, 
 whom he terms his honoured and worthy master. 
 From Sldpton he went to assist in the school of 
 Alexander Arscott of Bristol, who was like a kind 
 and tender father to him. 
 
 The plainness of dress to which this young man 
 had been accustomed he continued, though in the 
 city where he now resided there was much de- 
 parture from it. The following are his remarks 
 on the subject: " I have observed that deviating 
 from this path of plainness which truth leads 
 into, and making excursions in dress, opens the 
 way to intimate connexion with young people out 
 of our society, or libertines in it, and so leads 
 further and further from a due subjection to 
 Christ's kingdom and government; often making 
 them forget and lose the good which they have 
 formerly possessed, and consequently draws them 
 
JAMES GOUGH. ^71 
 
 along into the utmost danger. 'Wliereas, adhering 
 to the truth and its plain path, opens the way 
 for safer and more profitable and edifying con- 
 nexions; as I often found here, to my solid inward 
 satisfaction, which I hope I shall never forget." 
 
 He thus describes his state: " I rose early, implor- 
 ed the Lord to direct me how to spend every part 
 of the day most to the honour of his name, and to 
 aid me to exert myself in the full discharge of my 
 duty every way. And oh! many times a day, 
 great peace and solid satis friction flowed in my 
 soul, for attending to and following his internal 
 directions. Every thing went well, and in proper 
 order, through this constant care to walk exem- 
 plarily, and act faithfully in the duties of my 
 place and station in life. And many times, in the 
 evening of a well-spent day, my soul overflowed 
 with the sweet earnests of the heavenly and ever- 
 lasting reward, reserved for perseverance in well- 
 doing. Sometimes, to every body that I saw, I 
 felt great love to rise in my heart, and a tender, 
 well-wishing desire for them, that their souls 
 might partake with mine of the hidden treasures 
 of the unutterable love of Christ, and the joy of 
 his salvation." 
 
 In 1 737, James Gough came to Ireland, and 
 opened school for the children of Friends in Cork. 
 The following year he married Mary Dobbs of 
 Youghall. 
 
 In 1739, he states in his memoirs as follows 
 *' About four months after our marriage, being at a 
 
^72 JAMES GOUGH. 
 
 meeting in Youghall, my heart was bowed in re- 
 verent fear; and, filled with the sweet influence of 
 God's universal love, it then appeared to be my duty, 
 in the clearness of that light and strength of that 
 love, to call to, and invite those present, to come 
 to Christ, and yield grateful obedience to his 
 laws. I had been for several years before fully 
 persuaded that this would be required of me as a 
 duty, and had desired never to dare to venture 
 upon it, till it should be so required. 
 
 " Upon this duty being clearly presented to me 
 in this meeting, discouragements and obstacles 
 poured into my mind in abundance; such as that, 
 if I should deliver the words imprest, I should 
 then be exposed to much speculation, and become 
 the immediate subject of conversation, among such 
 as love to catch and propagate matter of amuse- 
 ment; that, perhaps, the like duty might never be 
 required of me again; and, in that case, I should 
 be likely to be remarked, and talked of for many 
 years, as one who had begun and not gone on. 
 Instances occurred of such as had preached 
 amongst us for a time, and had either dropped it 
 and fallen away, or had, on one account or ano^ 
 ther, incurred a public and general dislike or dis- 
 grace ; ami that, therefore, it might be safer and 
 better for me to rest quiet with good wishes for 
 the people, and to exhort in a more private way, as 
 I might have opportunity, and a fresh concern on 
 my mind. These grounds of hesitation detained 
 me till a friend kneeled down to conclude the 
 
JAMES GOUGII. 2iij 
 
 meeting in prayer. I then saw clearly that, if the 
 meeting should break up without my uttering the 
 exhortation which was fixed with so much weight 
 upon my mind, I should unavoidably incur the 
 stings of conscious guilt, and the crime of diso- 
 bedience. 
 
 " Therefore, not attending to the Friend's pub- 
 lic prayer, my mind was earnestly and closely ex- 
 ercised in mental supphcation to the Almighty, 
 that he would abilitate me to be faithful. I had 
 a hard struggle and conflict on this occasion ; but 
 at length the power of divine faith prevailed, to 
 the shutting out and putting to silence all manner 
 of discouraging apprehensions. And when the 
 prayer was ended, I durst not sit down, fearing I 
 should not have power to rise again in time; but 
 turning about to the meeting, and seeing some of 
 the people staring me in the face, such was my 
 weakness, that I raised up my hat, and holding it 
 before my face, I spoke the words which had 
 lain with weight on my mind, and sat down. A 
 flood of divine joy poured into my heart, and 
 filled it all the day." 
 
 When James Go ugh had lived three years in 
 Ireland, his brother John came to him; for, united 
 in brotherly affection, they were desirous to be in 
 the same nation; and his brother taking charge 
 of the school in his absence, released James to 
 travel in England, Wales, and Ireland, in the 
 work of the ministry. About the year 1745 he 
 N 3 
 
274* JAMES GOUGH. 
 
 gave up the school to his brother, and removed to 
 the neighbourhood of MountmelUck, where he 
 met with some disappointments in worldly pro- 
 spects. " Such dispensations," he writes, " are 
 humbling, deeply exercising our faith and pa- 
 tience, and proving our foundation and our confi- 
 dence in divine protection, and reliance on hea- 
 venly help." 
 
 Some time after, his wife also became a minister. 
 In a religious visit to the north of England, James 
 Gough took a last farewell of the place of his 
 nativity, and of his aged mot! •3r, whose latter days 
 and last end were blessed with peace. His father 
 died several years before. 
 
 A prospect having opened of establishing a 
 school in Mountmellick, James Gough accepted 
 of it. His outward affairs now assumed a more 
 favourable aspect, when he was deeply tried by 
 the decease of his beloved companion, soon after 
 the birth of a son, her first child. On this dis- 
 tressing occasion, his brother, with his wife, came 
 to five with and assist him. In the course of a 
 visit to the north of Ireland, he desired to have 
 a meeting in Belfast, where none of the people 
 called Quakers resided at that time, and accom- 
 plished it to his own peace of mind, and the satis- 
 faction of others. 
 
 James Gough entered into the married state a 
 second time, with Elizabeth Barnes, and they re- 
 sided ten years in MountmelUck. The cares of 
 an increasing young family of her own, added to 
 
^AMES GOUGH. 275 
 
 the charge of the children of others, he appre- 
 hended, were too oppressive to the dehcate consti- 
 tution of his wife, and therefore he accepted the 
 offer made to him by Friends of Bristol, to under- 
 take the day-school in that city. Thus, after hav- 
 ing spent twenty-four years in Ireland, he left it, 
 and parted from his friends with mutual, tender 
 regret, for he was sincerely and universally be- 
 loved by them. This removal appears to have 
 been made in the year 1761. 
 
 In 1769 another domestic trial befel him, in 
 the death of his eldest son, who was taken from 
 this life by a fever, in the twenty-first year of his 
 age, in the house of a friend in London, in whose 
 employ he was, and where he was much beloved 
 and tenderly cared for. 
 
 In 1774, James Gough was invited to superin- 
 tend Friends' school in Dublin. After havincr 
 filled this station three years, he gave it up to 
 another, and more fully dedicated the remainder 
 of his time to Him whom he had found to be a 
 gracious Master. He was much engaged travel- 
 ling in different parts of this nation; visiting the 
 meetings, and, in many places, the families of 
 Friends, his heart overflowing with love. His 
 conversation was entertaining and instructive ; his 
 manners were social, cheerful, and kind ; which, 
 added to innocence, simplicity, and humility, en- 
 deared him to his friends. Old age stole gently 
 on; and though his strength naturally declined, 
 his health was seklom interrupted, till, in the year 
 
276 JOSEPH POOLE. 
 
 1780; when being on a visit to the families of 
 Friends in Cork, he was attacked with a dysen- 
 tery, which, notwithstanding the aid of medical 
 skill, and careful and kind attendance, increased 
 upon him. He was calm and composed, express- 
 ed his resignation to the divine will; and said he 
 was prepared for the event, relying on the mercy of 
 God. He died the 6th of 10th month, 1780, 
 aged sixty-eight. 
 
 From " James Gough's JournaL" 
 
 JOSEPH POOLE. 
 
 Joseph, son to Jonathan, and grandson to Richard 
 Poole, was born at Ballygoman, in the county of 
 Wexford, in the year 1689—90, of parents professing 
 the principles of the society of Friends, who gave 
 him a sober education. By obedience to the ma- 
 nifestations of truth in his own mind, in early 
 life, he was enabled to walk in the path of righ- 
 teousness and self-denial, in which he steadily per- 
 severed. 
 
 In the year 1720, he took to wife Jane, the 
 widow of Samuel Williams, and daughter to Wil- 
 liam Sparrow, of the county of Wexford. About 
 
JOSEPH POOLE. 577 
 
 the thirty-fifth year of his age, he spoke in meet- 
 ings as a minister ; and his services in this Hne re- 
 ceived the approbation of the society. His words 
 were not many, and were delivered with much sim- 
 pHcity. He was careful to support the various 
 testimonies professed by the society to which he 
 belonged, and to exhort others to like care. He 
 was generous in his contributions for the relief of 
 the poor, a diligent attender of meetings, and 
 grieved when he observed others fall short in the 
 performance of that duty. While ability of body 
 permitted, he was seldom absent from the general 
 assemblies of his Friends, and was several times 
 engaged in visiting families. He was the better 
 fitted for this work, by his exemplary life and con- 
 versation, and by the careful education of his own 
 children, which gave weight to his advice. 
 
 His fife was protracted to an unusual length, 
 and he had the desire of his heart answered by the 
 good conduct of his offspring. His last illness 
 continued about six months. He bore his tedious 
 confinement w4th resignation, and beheld the ap- 
 proach of death without dismay; retaining his love 
 to his Maker, his zeal for the truth which he pro- 
 fessed, and his intellectual faculties, to the last. 
 He expressed his hope of a happy futurity, having 
 honestly endeavoured, according to his small mea- 
 sure, to do his day's work in the day, and received 
 the answer of peace to his soul. He departed 
 this life, as if sinking into a sweet sleep, at his 
 
578 SUSANNA LIGHTFOOT. 
 
 house at Growtown, county of Wexford, 8tli 
 of 6th month, 1781, aged ninety-one; a minister 
 fifty-six years. 
 
 From MS. 
 
 SUSANNA LIGHTFOOT. 
 
 Susanna Lightfoot was born at Grange, county 
 of Antrim, 10th of 1st month, 1719—20. Herpa- 
 rents, John and Margaret Hudson, were of the 
 society of Friends, and rehgious persons. On the 
 death of her father, the circumstances of the 
 family being very limited, her mother was obliged 
 to part with her daughter, by sending her to gain 
 support by servitude. This was a trial to a tender 
 and careful parent. Her anxiety for the welfare 
 of her child was not confined to the things of this 
 life, but her preservation in piety and innocence 
 was of far more exceeding importance in her view; 
 and she had the happiness of seeing the desire of 
 her heart accomplished, by her daughter's choice 
 of that narrow path which conducted her through 
 the thorny wilderness of life in safety. The young 
 Susanna, desirous to perform the duty of attend- 
 ing meetings, even when her remote situation ren- 
 
SUSANNA LIGHTFOOT. 279 
 
 clered it difficult, did not shrink from the fatigue 
 of walking several miles for that purpose ; and for 
 the time thus spent, she thought it but just to com- 
 pensate her employer by increased diligence and 
 labour. Thus was she qualified to encourage 
 others in similar circumstances^ to follow her ex- 
 ample, and reap the reward of peace and joy, as 
 she had done; and she besought those possessed 
 of conveniences, which exempted them from diffi- 
 culty in discharging this duty, to prize their privi- 
 leges, and bring forth fruits adequate to the fa- 
 vours conferred upon them. 
 
 In the 17th year of her age, Susanna Hudson 
 appeared as a minister, and in that capacity went to 
 the American continent, in the year 1737, in com- 
 pany with her mistress, Ruth Courtney, also a 
 ministering Friend, who was engaged in a like 
 concern. In the fulfilment thereof she spent 
 thirteen months, in which time her exercises were 
 not a few; but, divine support, and the sweetness 
 of her spirit, enabled her to bear them patiently. 
 In 1740, Ruth Courtney and she travelled in 
 England and Wales, which occupied them fifteen 
 months. In 1742, she married Joseph Katton: 
 their circumstances were narrow, and their family 
 soon became large. She was diligent in her tem- 
 poral concerns, and also in attention to those of 
 higher importance. At home she experienced 
 great outvfard as v/ell as inward exercises and 
 trials. She visited different parts of Ireland, 
 Scotland, and England. In 1754, she removed 
 
280 SUSANNA LIGHTFOOT. 
 
 with her husband and family, to reside in Water- 
 ford, where Friends were kind and sympathizing, 
 and she was useful in the Lord's hand. 
 
 In 1759 Joseph Hatton died. He was anx- 
 ously concerned for his children, whom, on his 
 dying bed, he earnestly exhorted to follow the ad- 
 vice of their mother. 
 
 In 1760 she paid a second religious visit to 
 America, having informed her friends at home of 
 her prospect, and had their full concurrence. In 
 this work she was engaged two years; and after 
 her return to her native land, visited the province 
 of Munster on the like account. 
 
 In 1 763, Thomas Lightfoot came from America 
 to propose marriage to her. She accepted his 
 offer, and they were married in the 9th month of 
 that year; after which, she completed a religious 
 visit to Friends in this nation, and thus took a 
 solemn and a last farewell of her native land. 
 
 In the 8th month, 1764, she embarked, with her 
 husband and family, for America, and became a 
 member of Uwchlan monthly meeting, Pennsylva- 
 nia, At divers meetings she prophetically warned 
 of the approaching stormy da}^, which would shake 
 the sandy foundations of men : the calamities of 
 war afterwards proved the truth of her message. 
 She was an excellent example of steady waiting 
 upon the Lord in silence ; sohd and grave in her 
 deportment; instructive and weighty in her con- 
 versation; watchful over her own family for their 
 good, withstanding wrong things in them as well 
 
SUSANNA LIGHTFOOT. 281 
 
 as in others; of a discerning spirit; and, hav- 
 ing passed through the deep waters of affliction 
 herself, her eye was not unused to drop a tear for 
 and with others in distress, either in body or mind, 
 and rejoiced in comforting and rendering them 
 service. She was a hving and powerful minister 
 of the gospel of Jesus Christ ; careful not to break 
 silence in meeting, until favoured with fresh 
 anointing from the Holy One of Israel. 
 
 Her last illness was lingering: soon after its 
 commencement, she thus expressed herself: "I 
 have had a prospect this evening, of joining the 
 heavenly host in singing praises to Zion's King; 
 for which favour my soul, and all that is sensible 
 within me, magnifies that arm wdiich hath been 
 with me from my infant days, and cast up a way 
 where there was no way, both by sea and land." 
 She mentioned that it had wounded her very life, 
 to behold the professors of Christianity acting in- 
 consistently with the example of a crucified Sa- 
 viour. She frequently supplicated the Lord for 
 the continuance of his help, and that she might be 
 endued with patience ; adding: "Oh! what would 
 become of me now, if I had a w^ounded con- 
 science? The work with me is not now to do." 
 The quarterly meeting being near, she urged her 
 husband to attend it, and leave her, saying: 
 " There is nothing yields such comfort on a lan- 
 guishing bed, as an evidence of having performed 
 our religious duties to the best of our understand* 
 ings. I can speak it from experience," 
 
£82 SUSANNA LIGHTFOOT. 
 
 She mentioned the unnecessary expence and 
 parade observable at burials, with great disappro- 
 bation; desiring that all such should be avoided 
 at hers, and that her coffin should be of oak, 
 as this was the most common wood in the 
 land. 
 
 She spoke of the necessity there was for Friends 
 to guard against keeping, in their famihes, persons 
 of corrupt morals and evil communication, which 
 hath a tendency to poison the tender minds of 
 their children; and signified her apprehension, 
 that some parents were stained with the blood of 
 their offspring thereby. At another time, she en- 
 couraged some that were present, to be faithful to 
 the Lord, and keep to their gifts, adding: " Oh! 
 what a fine thing it is to sit lively in meetings, and 
 to witness the holy oil to run as from vessel to 
 vessel." Feeling herself grow worse, she gave di- 
 rections about the laying out of her body, that it 
 should be with exemplary plainness. 
 
 After expressing the desire of her soul respect- 
 ing one of her sons, she took leave of her hus- 
 band, and others present, with a look of endearing 
 love, and expired about the fourth hour in the 
 morning, like one falling into an easy slumber, on 
 the 8th of the 5th month, 1781, aged sixty-one; a 
 minister forty-four years. 
 
 Her friend, Samuel Emlen, on beholding her 
 remains, thus expressed himself: " Having served 
 God in her generation, she is fallen asleep in the 
 
JOSEPH POOLE. 283 
 
 arms of everlasting mercy. Oh! what a com- 
 fort." 
 
 Testimony and MS. 
 
 JOSEPH POOLE. 
 
 Joseph Poole, son of Joseph and Sarah Poole, 
 was born at Growtown, county of Wexford, in the 
 year 1769. He was truly obedient to his pa- 
 rents; strict in the obsei'vance of truth ; little in- 
 clined to the amusements of childhood, but desi- 
 rous of knowledge; and he made considerable pro- 
 gress in the study of the mathematics, and other 
 branches of useful learning. His conversation was 
 sensible and intelligent. The acquirements to 
 which he attained, appeared not to exalt his mind, 
 which was endowed with that innocence and mo- 
 desty so lovely in youth. He delighted in the pe- 
 rusal of the Scriptures, in the company of faithful 
 friends, and in the attendance of religious meet- 
 ings. As he continued thus watchful and hum- 
 ble, the will of his Creator was more and more 
 manifested to him ; his spirit, bowing in obedi- 
 ence, became more and more refined ; and he was 
 constrained, by divine influence, with much reluc- 
 
284 JOSEPH POOLE. 
 
 tance of flesh and blood, publicly to declare, in 
 several meetings of his friends, what the Lord had 
 done for his soul, much to their comfort and edifi- 
 cation. This important event he has recorded in 
 this manner: ''About the latter end of the 7th 
 month, 1 785, my mouth was first opened in pub- 
 lic testimony, with a few words, in Forest meet- 
 ing. Much reasoning I had before I spoke, con- 
 sidering that if afterwards I fell, it would bring 
 dishonour on the blessed truth ; but, as I humbly 
 attended to my divine guide, he strengthened 
 and enabled me to do my duty." His declarations 
 in public were short, connected, and free from af- 
 fectation: his deportment, both in meetings for 
 worship and discipline, and at other times, convey- 
 ed instruction. He was remarkably abstemious in 
 eating, drinking, and sleeping; and was a sin- 
 cere sympathizer with those in poverty or afflic- 
 tion, whom he often visited. He devoted a part 
 of almost every day to religious retirement and 
 contemplation; of the fruits whereof, the following, 
 found in his hand -writing, may serve as a speci- 
 men : " How precious is thy presence, O God ! 
 Thou delightest those that humbly seek thee, with 
 refreshing well-springs from thy divine fountain! 
 thou hast reserved delightful pleasures for them, 
 O Lord ! Keep me in a humble, reverent, watch- 
 ful state; knowing the enmity there is between thy 
 precious, everlasting seed, which thou hast sown in 
 our hearts, and that of Satan: he is an enemy 
 and a destroyer. O Lord, give me power to over- 
 
DOROTHY WATSON. 285 
 
 come ; that so, when time here shall fail, I may be 
 received into the everlasting mansions, where the 
 wicked cease from troubling, and where the weary 
 are at rest." 
 
 Thus this pious youth walked on, in the path of 
 self-denial, an example to the young, and a joy to 
 the old ; especially to his religious parents, whose 
 hearts were thankful for such a blessing — -a bless- 
 hig which they were soon to resign ; for, on the 
 10th of 12th month, 1785, he sickened of the 
 small-pox. The disease lay heavily upon him, but 
 he was enabled to endure the bodily conflict, with 
 resignation to the divine will, being evidently sup- 
 ported by that Power, which, in the time of 
 health, was his comfort above all other enjoyments. 
 The first day of his illness, he said to his mother: 
 " I am very sick, but I have sweet peace; and is 
 not that well?" At another time he told her, he 
 hoped she would be enabled to say, with Job : 
 *' The Lord gave, and the Lord taketh away, 
 blessed be the name of the Lord." And, to his 
 father's affectionate enquiry, concerning the state 
 of his mind, after a solemn pause, he replied: "I 
 have not an angry God to look in the face. I 
 have been obedient to all the manifestations that 
 he hath been pleased to communicate to me. I 
 know not whether I shall die or not." His dis- 
 order increasing, he said : " I have had a hard 
 night of it ; but I have felt so much of the love of 
 God, that it makes amends for all this hardship." 
 One morning, being in much pain, he desired 
 
286 JOSEPH POOLE. 
 
 that a little rest might be granted him, if it was 
 the Lord's will; immediately after which he fell 
 asleep, and, on awaking, said : " I am fine and 
 easy : I know the Lord hath heard my prayer." 
 His spirit was strongly united to several American 
 Friends, who had lat.ly visited this nation ; and, 
 from his bed of suffering, he sent dear remem- 
 brance to them. To a woman Friend, who came 
 to visit him, he earnestly expressed a caution not 
 to permit her daughter to dress in the manner she 
 did, which exposed to temptation, and was an in- 
 troduction to unprofitable company. 
 
 On the last morning of his life, he addressed 
 several who were in his chamber, in terms appro- 
 priate to each ; and the last words he was heard to 
 utter, were : " I have tried it, I have proved it ; and 
 I know nothing VvuU do, but what has the Master's 
 stamp upon it." And, in a few minutes after, 
 sinking into sleep, in which he continued about 
 half an hour, he finished his course, without sigh 
 or groan, the 25th of l^th month, 1785, aged six- 
 teen years and four months. ^ 
 
 From MS. 
 
^87 
 
 DOROTHY WATSON. 
 
 Dorothy Watson was the daughter of Tho- 
 mas and Dorothy White, of Donore, county 
 of Carlo w. She was born in 1718, and married 
 Jonathan, son of Samuel Watson, in 1750. 
 Dorothy Watson was so completely a woman 
 of a meek and quiet spirit, that it seemed to 
 others as if she had little to struggle with ; yet, 
 conscious that the Christian life is a continual 
 warfare, her words and actions were regulated by 
 a constant care to watch over herself. Her ac- 
 tions were marked by benevolence and propriety, 
 and her fear of transgressing the limits of truth, 
 made her very cautious of asserting any thing in 
 positive terms. Tranquil in her disposition, her 
 situation in life was also marked by tranquillity; 
 though one incident, for a time, disturbed the 
 peace of this worthy pair, while it proved that that 
 Providence, on whom they relied, watched over 
 them. They had in their service a young man, in 
 whom they placed much confidence, especially as 
 he assumed a religious character. This person 
 awakened their fears, by informing them that he 
 apprehended there was a design to rob the house ; 
 and noises were heard, and traces of footsteps 
 seen, which confirmed suspicion. The night after 
 this alarm, the favourite servant made preparation 
 
^88 DOROTHY WATSON. 
 
 to defend his master and mistress, and recom- 
 mended their retiring to rest. His master was 
 disposed to do so ; but when his mistress set her 
 foot on the stairs, she was seized with indescriba- 
 ble horror, and returned. Her husband strove to 
 calm her fears, assured her of Henry's vigilance, 
 and pressed her to go to her bed. Again she 
 made the attempt : again a feehng, more dreadful 
 than the idea of robbery, arrested her steps. 
 Notwithstanding her natural gentleness, her firm- 
 ness now was not to be shaken, and her husband 
 sate with her by the fire till morning. It was soon 
 after discovered, that the servant, so much valued 
 by his master, had planned the intended robbery, 
 if not worse, for that night; and, as he who is 
 guilty of hypocrisy, cannot know to what lengths 
 his baseness may lead him, the feelings which pre- 
 vented her from seeking repose, might have been 
 the means of preserving their lives. Many have 
 been the instances in which attention to secret 
 intimations, even in minor matters, has proved of 
 important service; but in this it is particularly 
 striking, and worthy of being remembered. 
 
 The last ten years of Dorothy Watson's life 
 were passed in widowhood. She felt the loss of 
 an affectionate husband, but her mind preserved 
 its equal tenor. She was long in the station of an 
 elder. Soon after her marriage, she went into 
 Kilconner meeting, wearing mean clothes, and un- 
 bleached linen; and, after an interval of many 
 years, made a similar appearance in the public 
 
JOHN GOUGH. 289 
 
 meeting at Carlow, on the day of a monthly meet- 
 ing ; expressing, with great humility, in a few af- 
 fecting words, her design in this to be, to reprove 
 vanity and expence in dress. 
 
 She died at Carlow, 14th of 1st month, 1786, 
 aged sixty-eight. 
 
 Carlow Monthly Meeting. 
 
 JOHN GOUGH. 
 
 John Gough was born at Kendal, in Westmor- 
 land, in 17^1. He was seriously disposed from 
 his youth, and of exemplary conduct. His talents, 
 education, and example, having fitted him for the 
 tuition of youth, he became, at the age of sixteen, 
 assistant in a Friend's school in Wiltshire, where 
 he remained four years, and then joined his bro- 
 ther in Ireland, who was also employed in the 
 work of education. 
 
 In the year 1750, he undertook the manage- 
 ment of Friends' school in Dublin, which he con- 
 ducted satisfactorily twenty-four years, approving 
 himself a valuable member of rehgious and civil 
 society. Having experienced, through the sanc- 
 tifying operations of the spirit of truth, a gradual 
 
290 JOHN GOUGH. 
 
 advancement in the work of righteousness, as he 
 grew in years, growing in grace, and in the know- 
 ledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, he 
 was thereby fitted for service, was appointed 
 to the office of an elder, and was truly serviceable 
 in that station. In transacting the afiairs of the 
 church, he was eminently useful; often instrumen- 
 tal to reconcile difterent sentiments, modest in 
 urging his own, but clear and concise in express- 
 ing them. 
 
 In the year 1774, he removed to the province of 
 Ulster, and became master of a boarding-school 
 near Lisburn. About this time he spoke in pub- 
 lic as a minister, and afterwards took several jour- 
 neys in that capacity in this land, and once into 
 some parts of England. He was of a sober, cir- 
 cumspect life and conversation, as becometh the 
 gospel of Christ; plain and humble in his appear- 
 ance, and grave in deportment ; showing himself a 
 pattern of good works : in doctrine showing un- 
 eorruptness, gravity, sincerity. 
 
 And if we consider him in the more contracted 
 circle of private life, he was a kind and afifectionate 
 neighbour, full of tenderness and compassion; 
 feehng, in much sympathy, for the trials and suf- 
 ferings of his friends, whom he neglected not to 
 visit, and to commiserate in their distress, as op- 
 portunity offered, to cheer the drooping heart, 
 and to administer consolation to the afflicted. 
 
 His abihties and acquirements enabled him to 
 write a plan of arithmetic, the general use of which 
 
SAMUEL NEALE. 291 
 
 has proved its value. He was, for a considerable 
 time, closely engaged, when not called upon to 
 perform other services, in writing the " History of 
 the People called Quakers ;" of which there have 
 been four volumes published. He was seized with 
 a fit of apoplexy, which, in a few hours, ended in 
 his decease, the 25th day of the 10th month, 
 1791, aged seventy. 
 
 It is remarkable, that a short time before his 
 death, being engaged in prayer, in the meeting to 
 which he immediately belonged, on behalf of the 
 general state of the church, he was led, by a re- 
 markable transition, to supplicate for himself, as if 
 sensible of his approaching dissolution, that he 
 might be more and more fitted and purified ; that, 
 when the angel of the divine presence should be 
 sent to his habitation, with the solemn message, 
 that time should be to him no longer, he might 
 be admitted to join the hundred and forty-four 
 thousand who were redeemed from the earth, in 
 singing praises to the Lamb ! 
 
 SAMUEL NEALE. 
 
 -Samuel Neale, son of Thomas and Martha 
 
 Neale, was born in Dublin, 1729. Soon after his 
 
 o2 
 
292 SAMUEL NEALE. 
 
 birth, his parents removed from that city, and be- 
 came members of Edenderry monthly meeting. 
 His mother dying when he was in his sixth year, 
 and his father removing to America, he and his bro-» 
 ther and sisters were left behind, in the charge of 
 their grandmother and uncle, who were aiFection- 
 ately attentive to their morals and education. 
 Samuel Neale's heart v/as early impressed with a 
 sense of the goodness of his Maker, even before he 
 well knew what it was that affected him. When 
 capable of reading the Bible, and other instructive 
 writings, these feelings were strengthened, and 
 sedateness of conduct, and many tender tears, were 
 the consequence of his belief in the omnipresence 
 of that gracious Being, in whose favour he was 
 happy ; but whose reproofs he felt, when the levity 
 of his disposition carried him off from this safe 
 ground. In his twelfth year, being not likely to 
 recover from the small-pox, the apprehension of 
 death, and of unfitness for it, rose before his view, 
 and caused him to resolve, if his life were spared, 
 on greater care over his words and actions, than 
 he yet practised. This resolution, though not en- 
 tirely forgotten, was too often broken through ; 
 and the further he advanced in life, the thicker 
 temptations stood in his way; and the more 
 often these prevailed, the less strength he had to 
 oppose their renewed attacks. When about 
 seventeen years of age, he went to Dublin to ac- 
 quire a knowledge of commercial affairs, and spent 
 three years there. Having an independent pro- 
 
SAMUEL NEALE. 293 
 
 perty, he had money at his own disposal, which pro v- 
 edto him, as to many other youths, a snare; and, 
 joined to his engaging manners, introduced him 
 into unprofitable company. He contracted an inti- 
 macy with several students belonging to the uni- 
 versity in that city : they were not likely to further 
 his steps in the path of self-denial. Thus his time 
 passed away: remorse often seized upon him for 
 these mispent hours, which, when his gay com- 
 panions observed, they called it a religious fit, and 
 hurried him to fresh scenes of amusement. Even 
 after his recovery from a dangerous fever, in 
 which the covenant of his childhood was remem- 
 bered, though he was afraid to promise again, he 
 ran into more excesses than ever, and the con- 
 victions which still laid hold on him, were over- 
 powered as they arose. In this state, in the sum- 
 mer of 1751, about to commence business, he set 
 out on a journey to the south, attended by a ser- 
 vant in livery. It is to be noted, that he generally 
 continued to attend meetings, and to maintain an 
 intercourse and acquaintance with Friends. On 
 this journey he called to enquire after the health 
 of Mary Peisley, and that of the family ; his wor- 
 thy uncle, Samuel Neale, accompanying him. 
 The young man felt true satisfaction in their in- 
 structive conversation, and contrasted it with what 
 he was too much accustomed to, among his libertine 
 companions. He spent some days in Limerick, 
 and mixed there with dissipated company; and 
 on his way from thence to Cork, he reflected se- 
 
294f SAMUEL NEALE. 
 
 riously and sorrowfully on his own frailty, weak- 
 ness, and irresolution, feeling the sting which ac- 
 companies delusive pleasures. In this disposition 
 he reached Cork ; yet, there mingling with old ac- 
 quaintances, and forming new ones, the weakness 
 of his former resolves was again apparent. On a 
 first-day morning, an acquaintance asked him to 
 go to meeting, telling him that Catherine Payton 
 and Mary Peisley were to be there. He had been 
 at a play the preceding night, and had sate up 
 late ; however, he went to meeting. There Ca- 
 therine Payton's ministry was so powerful, and the 
 state of his mind was so clearly displayed; and he 
 was so wrought upon by the power and spirit of 
 the holy Jesus, that he was, as it were, smitten to 
 to the ground, and ready to cry out, with Saul: 
 "Lord, what wouldst thou have me to do?" 
 Tears of contrition bedewed his face ; and, shun- 
 ning observation, he withdrev/, after meeting, to 
 meditate in retirement. 
 
 His former gay companions beheld his change 
 with astonishment ; but, feeling distrustful of his 
 own resolutions, he v/ould not venture among 
 them, and staid with those friends who had been 
 the instruments of his conversion; accompanying 
 them to different places in their journey, strength- 
 ened and encouraged by them to persevere in the 
 way into which his feet were now turned, and experi- 
 encing what far exceeded the gratifications he had 
 been accustomed to pursue. But the time now 
 came, when he must leave those sympathizing 
 
SAMUEL NEALE. 295 
 
 friends, and return to Dublin; where he had 
 formed so many unprofitable intimacies, had broken 
 so many good resolutions, had given so many 
 proofs of his instability, and had plunged into so 
 many excesses. The m.ortifications which thus 
 awaited him, he dreaded less than his own weak- 
 ness and instability; and he thought of going to 
 reside in England, near such friends as would be 
 likely to advance his progress in piety, and where 
 he would be removed from amongst those who 
 had so often allured him to go astray. He re- 
 marks : " Thus I reasoned with flesh and blood ; 
 but I was instructed to see, that He who visited 
 me, was able to preserve me, if I would but be 
 subject and obedient to his wholesome instruction; 
 and that where I had dishonoured him by my in- 
 consistencies, there, by my fidelity to the law he 
 writes in the heart, I might honour and confess 
 him before men." He adds : " These intimations 
 quieted my mind, and I resolved to meet ridicule, 
 reviling, and even persecution itself, for tlie sake 
 of Him whom I was resolved to follow, as I felt 
 strength." 
 
 As he expected, when he met his old associates, 
 he found the cross was hard to bear, habited, as 
 he now was, in simple attire, and speaking the 
 plain language of Friends. However, he experi- 
 enced that ridicule was not always incurred by a 
 strict adherence to the principles of our education. 
 He had been sent, when an apprentice, to pay rent 
 to the bishop of Clogher, whom he addressed not 
 
296 SAMUEL NEALE. 
 
 as a Quaker. Whether the bishop knew he was of 
 that profession, and despised the false shame 
 which made him shrink from appearing as such, or 
 whether the youth felt self-condemnation for his 
 cowardice, he thought the bishop looked upon 
 him with contempt. The next time he went on 
 the same errand, he addressed him in the plain 
 language, was treated by him with marked civility, 
 and rejoiced that he had been "faithful in the 
 little." 
 
 Samuel Neale was, at the time of his change of 
 heart, in the twenty-second year of his age. He 
 endeavoured after quietude of mind, sought soli- 
 tude or instructive company, and was constant m 
 attendance of rehgious meetings. He had been 
 much attached to field-sports, and still thought he 
 might indulge himself in the recreation of his dog 
 and gun; but he felt the check of inward reproof, 
 for this manner of spending his time, and he- 
 abandoned the practice. 
 
 Gharret Van Hassen, a ministering Friend, 
 belonging to Dublin meeting, going on a religious 
 visit to Mountmellick, Samuel Neale's company was 
 gladly accepted by him ; and when there he was 
 invited, by this friend and James Gough, to sit 
 with them in the famihes they visited. Afterwards 
 he accompanied Joseph Tomey, another minister- 
 ing Friend of Dublin, to some meetings in the 
 country; and in this journey he found it was re- 
 quired of him to declare pubhcly the truths of 
 the gospel. In a meeting at Mountrath, he be- 
 
SAMUEL NEALE. S97 
 
 lleved it right to express a few words. He felt the 
 weight of this engagement deeply, and his frame 
 shook with the conflict. At length he yielded 
 obedience, and his peace flowed abundantly. 
 This was in the year 1751. Another trial awaited 
 him on his return to Dublin, where he was as- 
 sailed with reasonings and apprehensions, of what 
 would be said and thought of him, should that 
 service be required of him in the place where his 
 former libertine conduct was so well known. Of 
 this event he gives the following account : " When 
 the meeting-day came, my fears increased, and in 
 this state I went to meeting. It was on a first-day: 
 there was a very large gathering, amongst whom 
 were divers of my associates and old companions. 
 I was concerned to bear my testimony, which I did 
 in great fear and trembling. The subject was 
 Paulas conversion: *Saul, Saul, why persecutest 
 thou me?' It was spoken in great brokenness: 
 I did not say much, but it had an extraordinary 
 reach over the meeting; many present wept aloud, 
 and for a considerable space of time. After meet- 
 ing, I endeavoured to get away unperceived, 
 though one man (not of our society) caught me in 
 his arms and embraced me. Thus was I sustain- 
 ed and strengthened in my setting out in the work 
 of the ministry; and had an evidence that the peo- 
 ple were much reached, and powerfully affected 
 that day. 
 
 Afterwards I waded through divers exercises, 
 o 3 
 
298 SAMUEL NEALE. 
 
 and felt deep baptisms attend me for my further 
 purification, and on account of the people, whose 
 states I must feel if I ministered aright." 
 
 In 1752 he travelled with William Brown from 
 America, through some parts of England, Hol- 
 land, and Germany ; and after his return, settled 
 near Rathangan, in the county of Kildare. He 
 found this an agreeable solitude: he increased in 
 dedication, obtaining more and more the love and 
 esteem of his friends. In the year 1756 he was 
 engaged in gospel labours in this nation, England, 
 and Scotland. After this service was performed, 
 he addressed Mary Peisley with a proposal of 
 marriage. Mary Peisley was the daughter of 
 Peter and Rachel Peisley, and was born at Bally- 
 more, county of Kildare, in the year 1717. 
 Though educated in the society of Friends, in 
 early life her manners were little consistent with 
 the simplicity of her profession. She seemed, for 
 a time, to be exalted above the witness in her con- 
 science, and to be strengthened in her own will ; yet 
 that faithful witness was not totally silenced, al- 
 though the warning voice was too often slighted. 
 A fall from her horse, which apparently endan- 
 gered her life, caused her to reflect deeply on her 
 unfitness to meet the great Judge of heaven and 
 earth; and before this impression was erased 
 from her mind, the example of humble, silent 
 waiting, manifested by two Friends who visited 
 the meeting to which she belonged, and the opera- 
 tion of the universal principle of grace in her heart, 
 
SAMUEL NEALE. 299 
 
 aroused her *' to enquire for herself; and as she 
 pressed to wisdom's gate, her seeking mind was 
 satisfied*," and she devoted herself, with fervent 
 zeal, to perform the services required of her. 
 In this humble, dedicated state she was preserved 
 from sinking, when the waves and the billows of 
 domestic trials and inward conflicts passed over 
 her; and having received qualification from her 
 heavenly Father, she became a gospel-minister. 
 It was in the beginning of the year 1744 that she 
 first gave up to this work. 
 
 She paid a visit to the meetings of Friends in 
 England ; and, in 1751, joined with Catherine Pay- 
 ton, to the provinces of Munster and Ulster; 
 also to Sligo, where they were well received, 
 though none of their profession resided there. 
 In 1753, a duty still more arduous was allotted 
 for her to perform — to visit Friends on the Ameri- 
 can continent. Her dear friend Catherine Payton 
 was united with her in this labour of love. They 
 were highly-gifted women, who had devoted their 
 talents to the service of Him who had bestowed 
 them ; grave in their deportment, cautious in their 
 conversation, and exemplary in their conduct. 
 The account of their voyage will be best given in 
 Mary Peisley's own words : 
 
 " Before my leaving Ireland, I had a sight of 
 Charlestown, in South Carolina, being the port 
 for me to land at, which continued until I returned 
 
 * See her Journal, p. 10. 
 
300 SAMUEL NEALE. 
 
 to London*, when I lost sight of it; which made 
 me willingly conclude I might go with some friends 
 I was nearly united to, for Philadelphia; and went 
 on hoard some vessels hound for that port, but 
 could not see my way in any of them. On more 
 deeply centering to the root of life, in humble 
 resignation to the divine will, I found it my duty 
 to continue some weeks at London; and not be- 
 ing clear of that city, was, I believe, the cause of 
 my not seeing my way clear to Charlestown. I 
 therefore concluded to stay the Lord's time; and 
 when I found my spirit clear, took my passage 
 with my dear companion, Catherine Payton, for 
 that port. * * * We had a favourable passage, 
 save hard weather towards the latter part of the 
 voyage ; but, by the infinite mercy of Almighty 
 God, were preserved from any terror or amaze- 
 ment, and our health continued beyond expecta- 
 tion, save the sickness occasioned by the sea and 
 heat. We had meetings on board every first- 
 day, when ability of body, and the weather, would 
 permit; which the passengers and ship's crew 
 attended, to whom the way of life and salvation 
 was declared." 
 
 Various were their trials in this journey: in tra- 
 velling they often experienced great fatigue an^ 
 danger; but more afflicting to their anxious and 
 feeling minds, were the opposition and censure 
 which they had to encounter in some places. 
 
 * She had attended the yearly meeting at London, and, 
 afterwards, some other yearly meetings in the country.. 
 
SAMUEL NEALE. SOI 
 
 Mary Peisley returned an account of her Ame- 
 rican journey, to the national meeting at Dublin, 
 in the 11th month, 1756, to the satisfaction of her 
 friends, who rejoiced in having her restored to 
 them. She accepted the proposal of marriage 
 which Samuel Neale had offered. They were 
 well known to each other. Her ministry and ex- 
 ample had strenghtened his best resolves in his 
 awakened state, when she saw and sympathized 
 with him; and he looked up to her, not only as a 
 companion, but as a guide. 
 
 They were married, the 17th of 3d month, 
 1757, at Mountrath. The evening of the day 
 preceding, in a religious sitting in the family, 
 Samuel Neale spoke of that which was the only 
 sure support under the afflictions of this life; and 
 on the evening of the day of their marriage, Mary, 
 in a hke opportunity, mentioned the sabbath 
 which succeeded the six days' work of the cre- 
 ation; intimating her belief, that there were pre- 
 sent who should, ere long, enter into the sabbath 
 of rest. Two days after, she was seized with a 
 violent pain in her stomach, to which she was 
 subject: the usual remedies failed of their effect. 
 When the first sharp attack subsided, she lay 
 quiet, in an awful frame of mind; and though she 
 said Httle, the sound of her voice manifested her 
 triumph over bodily pain, death, hell, and the 
 grave; appearing desirous of release, if consistent 
 with the divine will ; and when her pain ceased, 
 she said, " I praise thy name, O my God, for this 
 
B02 SAMUEL NEALE. 
 
 favour." After which she breathed shorter and 
 shorter, and quietly departed. Here was a trial 
 of Samuel Neale's foundation; but neither heights 
 nor depths were able to separate him from the 
 love of God. He endured the furnace; and in 
 the meeting which preceded the interment, he 
 kneeled down beside the coffin, which contained 
 the remains of his most beloved earthly treasure, 
 and prayed to God the Father, in the demon- 
 stration of the Spirit, and baptizing power of 
 his Son; and beside the grave, his mouth was 
 again opened in affecting exhortation. 
 
 He Vi'rites: " Returned to my own house, low 
 and thoughtful. Attended the meetings at Rath- 
 angan, in which my spirit was refreshed and 
 strengthened. All night, in bed, my mind was 
 much exercised and tossed, in reflecting on the 
 singularity of my trial; and I was earnest in mind 
 to have some confirmation respecting the cause of 
 the quickness of the separation, which was gra- 
 ciously vouchsafed, insomuch that I was made 
 thankful and easy : having an evidence from the 
 Almighty, through the revelation of his Spirit 
 respecting the removal of his servant, that her 
 days V, ere filled up. It seemed to me as though 
 she appeared before me, and uttered these words 
 intelligibly: ' As for me, I am safe; thou art still 
 in the body: watch well thy ways.' An unction 
 seemed to accompany the words, that rested on 
 my mind for some days. I count it a mercy 
 
SAMUEL NEALE. $0a 
 
 indeed, to be thus noticed, and humbly crave help 
 to Hve diUgently in uprightness." 
 
 In about three months after the decease of his 
 wife, he was engaged in the work of the gospel, 
 in Leinster and Munster; and next year paid a 
 like visit to some parts of England. 
 
 In the 4th month, 1760, he entered again into 
 the marriage state, with Sarah, daughter of Joshua 
 Beale, and grand-daughter of Joseph Pike. She 
 was an excellent and affectionate wife, willing to 
 resign his society, which was so dear to her, to 
 make way for him to attend to the pointings of 
 (duty, and to encourage his dedication. She was 
 a woman of a clear judgment and discernmento 
 Her manners and conversation were grave, instruc- 
 tive, gentle, and condescending. 
 
 Soon after his marriage, Samuel Neale removed 
 to Cork. The following year he paid another 
 religious visit in England ; and after having had 
 the view for a long time before his mind, vnllingj 
 as he says, to wait till the fruit v/as fully ripe, 
 before it was plucked and handed to others, he 
 laid before his friends his concern to go to Ame- 
 rica. He had their sympathy and concurrence, 
 and embarked in the 8th month, 1770. On this 
 continent he spent about two years; being dili- 
 gently engaged in the faithful performance of his 
 Master's business, and affording much satisfaction 
 to Friends there. When about to return, he 
 says : " I went on board a good vessel bound for 
 Cork, but could not see my way in her ; though. 
 
S04 SAMUEL NEALE. 
 
 in appearance, much better and more complete 
 than anotlier bound for Waterford, and not likely 
 to sail so soon. But, as my intention was to move 
 in that which brought me from my native land, I 
 committed myself into the keeping of a faithful 
 Creator, and cast not my dependance upon out- 
 ward observation; but on His eternal arm of 
 strength, that led me into this service, has gra- 
 ciously sustained and succoured in the needful 
 time, and has been a present help when all out- 
 ward help was invisible: for which favours and 
 mercies, may my soul bless his great and adorable 
 name ; for he is worthy to be followed, served, 
 feared, and obeyed, world without end." He 
 sailed on board the vessel bound to Waterford, 
 and arrived safely, after a passage of thirty-four 
 days. 
 
 " The vessel bound for Cork sailed ten days 
 sooner than we did, and put into Waterford 
 about three hours before us. Very merciful 
 were the dealings of heavenly goodness to me, in 
 this voyage." 
 
 His journeys were frequent on a religious ac- 
 count, both in this country and in England. On 
 first-day evenings, there was a meeting held in 
 Samuel Neale's parlour, which was generally at- 
 tended by many Friends; and several remember 
 the sweet counsel which dropped from his lips like 
 the dew. Samuel and Sarah Neale had no children, 
 but their house was seldom without young per- 
 sons. The company of youth seemed particularly 
 
SAMUEL NEALE. o05 
 
 acceptable. Samuel Neale's disposition was natu- 
 rally cheerful; the benign sweetness of his counte- 
 nance expressed the benevolence of his heart, 
 and he was beloved in no common degree. 
 
 In the year 1786, he was visited with a painful 
 and dangerous illness, which continued several 
 weeks. In this trying time, often afflicted with 
 violent pain and tedious suffering, he was pre- 
 served in remarkable patience and resignation. 
 He recovered, but not to his wonted state of 
 health. However, he lived some years afterwards, 
 and undertook several journeys on a rehgious 
 account; the last of which was on a visit to 
 Friends of Leinster province, having believed it 
 right to join some who were appointed by the 
 national meeting. " In this service he evidently 
 appeared replenished with the love and tender- 
 ness of the gospel ; steadily moving under the 
 cover of it, and bringing forth the fruits of chari- 
 ty, patience, and meekness of wisdom*." 
 
 His indisposition increased after his return 
 home, and prevented his attending meetings as 
 usual; and, in a short time, the injury caused by 
 a slight hurt and wearing a tight boot, brought 
 on a mortification in his foot. In this trying 
 illness he was preserved meek, humble, and 
 patient. The means and medicines which were 
 judged necessary to be used in his case, 
 tended, in a great degree, to stupify his men- 
 
 • See Testimony from the men's meeting of Cork, respect'^- 
 ing Samuel Neale, 
 
306 SARAH NEWLAND, 
 
 tal faculties, which is much to be regretted; 
 but, while reason and recollection were con- 
 tinued, his expressions bespoke a mind peaceful, 
 calm, and resigned. He mentioned his desire 
 for the welfare of all; and said that he feared 
 neither death, hell, nor the grave, and that there 
 was nothing in this world that he desired to live 
 for. He lay quiet, and, gradually sinking, he ex- 
 pired in the morning of the 27th of 2d month, 
 1792, in his sixty- third year; a minister forty 
 years. 
 
 His valuable wife died the 7th of 3d month, 
 1793. 
 
 From Samuel Neale's and Mary Peisley's Journals. 
 
 SARAH NEWLAND. 
 
 Sarah New land was born in the year 1728. 
 The monthly meeting of Dublin gave forth the 
 following testimony concerning her: " She was 
 daughter of John and Elizabeth Chamberlain, late 
 of Cooladine, in the county of Wexford ; and, in 
 the year 1762, married David Newland of this 
 city, and settled amongst us. Previous to which 
 she had made some appearances in the ministry ; 
 and, as she advanced in years, grew brighter in 
 
SARAH NEWLAND. 307 
 
 the exercise of her gift, though not forward ta 
 speak in meetings, it appearing awful to her to 
 move in that hue of duty; but, when she did, it 
 was savory, and evinced to be drawn from the 
 fountain and well-spring of life. She was a dili- 
 gent attender of our religious meetings at home, 
 and well-disposed to attend our general meetings 
 abroad, as her outward situation would admit, 
 careful to come at the hour appointed ; and her 
 solid sitting and tenderness of spirit in them, often 
 preached loudly. 
 
 " She several times visited some of the meetings 
 of Friends in the different provinces; and, a short 
 time before her removal from us, joined a friend 
 in paying a visit to all the meetings in the nation. 
 Her company on family-visits was truly comfort- 
 able and useful. She was an humble-minded 
 woman, not seeking great things ; but careful to 
 endeavour to provide for the support of herself 
 and family ; yet did not let that keep her from 
 meetings, but frequently shut up her shop to at- 
 tend her reasonable duty in that respect; trust- 
 ing to the divine blessing upon her honest endea- 
 vours for food and raiment, with which she seem- 
 ed content. We feel our loss as of a mother in 
 Israel; but have no doubt it is her everlasting 
 gain. 
 
 " She departed this Hfe, the 24th of the 5th 
 month, 1 794, aged sixty-six years." 
 
308 
 
 ELIZABETH PIKE. 
 
 Elizabeth, daughter of Joshua and Elizabeth 
 Pirn, was born at Mountrath in the Queen's 
 County, in the year 1724. Her father had been 
 educated in remarkable plainness and consistency, 
 by his parents, who, during a time of outward 
 trial, approved themselves to be upright testimony- 
 bearers, and valiant sufferers in the cause of truth. 
 Their son Joshua, having duly prized the privi- 
 lege, was religiously concerned that his children 
 might partake of the same benefit. But many dis- 
 advantages attended their situation: they were 
 early deprived of maternal care, in the place of 
 their abode there were few improving associates, 
 and they were exposed to the contaminating influ- 
 ence of some very unprofitable company. Eliza- 
 beth, being the elder surviving daughter, was the 
 more at liberty, at least in some things, to choose 
 her own way. There was much of height and 
 independence in her natural disposition; and, 
 though possessing intellectual faculties of rather 
 a superior stamp, she had a strong inclination to 
 vanity in dress, &c.; yet she was prudently re- 
 served in her deportment, and at all times valued 
 for integrity and sincerity. 
 
 In 1748 s'he married Joseph Pike of Dublin. 
 He had been less strictly educated, was of a very 
 
ELIZABETH PIKE. 309 
 
 liberal disposition, and readily united with her in 
 throwing off the restraints of her education. The 
 city offered many allurements to gratify a vain 
 mind. For awhile «he seemed to enjoy her liber- 
 ty, and even the death of her pious father did not 
 arrest her progress, as might have been expected; 
 yet the instructive example and tender care with 
 which she had been so long favoured, might have 
 more deeply impressed her mind than was evident 
 at the time; and her case may justly be accounted 
 as one, among many instances, which should en- 
 courage religious parents to persevere in the dis- 
 charge of their highly-important trust, even 
 though they may not be permitted to see those 
 fruits of their labour which they have so anxiously 
 desired; for, in the year 1751, a memorable 
 change was manifest. A few of her contempora- 
 ries and acquaintances, some of whom were 
 younger than herself, had preceded her in yield- 
 ing their hearts to the visitations of divine love. 
 The apparently sudden, yet thorough conversion, 
 of Samuel Neale, (as he himself acknowledges 
 with humble admiration, in the " Short Account 
 of his Life," extracted from his journal,) had an 
 awakening effect upon many, and seemed to open 
 a door for the gospel labours of William Brown 
 of Pennsylvania, who arrived in Dublin shortly 
 afterwards. 
 
 Through his instrumentality, a powerful call ap- 
 pears to have been extended to the professors of 
 truth in that city, where various inconsistencies 
 
310 ELIZABETH PIKE. 
 
 had lamentably prevailed ; and there is ground to 
 conclude, that Elizabeth Pike may be reckoned 
 amongst the seals of his ministry. Her heart was 
 effectually reached. She was, through deep 
 humiliation, made to see and to feel her need of 
 a Saviour; and became willing, with unreserved 
 submission, to accept the offered terms of saving 
 help; being, even in a short time, enabled to de- 
 monstrate through her whole demeanour, that she 
 had taken his yoke upon her, and was learning of 
 Him, and that therein she found *' rest unto her 
 soul." Thus was she strengthened, according to 
 Scripture language, to join herself to the Lord in 
 a perpetual covenant; not counting any thing 
 too near or too dear to part vv^ith, for His sake, 
 who has dealt so mercifully with her. 
 
 For a time she had one pecuharly formidable 
 probation to encounter. Her affectionately-indul- 
 gent husband was exceedingly mortified, and 
 could not easily yield to her increasing scruples. 
 She felt very tenderly for him; yet, knowing her 
 motives, and whom she served, she dared not with- 
 draw her allegiance from her heavenly Guide and 
 Preserver; and being concerned to keep a single 
 eye to the intimations of his pure wisdom, she was 
 admirably, though gradually, helped through this 
 strait; signally illustrating the apostolic- exhorta- 
 tion, 1 Peter, iii. 1 to 4.; and her husband at 
 length became reconciled to her altered habits, 
 and M^as prompt to promote her religious useful- 
 ness. 
 
JELIZABETH PIKE. 311 
 
 Soon after she had been thus evidently enabled 
 to renounce the vanities of the world, and to enter 
 the narrow way of self-denial, she once felt herself 
 constrained, in the week-day meeting of Dublin, 
 to offer up a vocal supplication; as it were, pub- 
 licly dedicating herself to the service of the ever- 
 worthy Master; which was awfully affecting to 
 many, who knew her, so lately, in so different a 
 state. But it does not appear that she ever after- 
 wards believed it required of her to speak as a 
 public minister, though, in various respects, she 
 might be " accounted a preacher of righteous- 
 ness." 
 
 She became eminently instrumental in reviv- 
 ing the discipline of the society, which, particu- 
 larly in women's meetings, appears to have been 
 for some years previously much neglected, or 
 maintained but in a very feeble, languid manner; 
 tenderly encouraging others, also, to come forward 
 in fulfilling their duties. In these labours she 
 had often to wade through great difficulties and 
 discouragements; especially when she was de- 
 prived of her beloved coadjutor, Elizabeth Carle- 
 ton, (who married Richard Shackleton, and re- 
 moved to Ballitore,) to whom she was accustomed 
 to look up, as to an elder sister in the truth. Many 
 and various were the conflicts and baptisms allot- 
 ted her in this new course of hfe. She could truly 
 say, *' v/ithout were fightings, within were fears." 
 Yet such was the dread of self-deception which 
 pervaded her diffident mind, that (as expressed in 
 
^12 ELIZABETH PiKE. 
 
 a letter to an intimate friend) she could scarcely 
 venture to conclude that her fears and fightings 
 were, in any degree, of the same nature with those 
 of the apostle. 
 
 In process of time she was appointed to the sta- 
 tion of an elder, in which she approved her- 
 self well qualified for tender {sympathy, and 
 deep and mental travail with her exercised 
 brethren and sisters; having sound judgment, and 
 being honest in imparting admonition, but under 
 the influence of that charity which inclined her to 
 palliate the weakness of others; at least, in as 
 great a degree as her quick discernment could 
 admit. She bore a faithful testimony against 
 every species of detraction : the shghtest remark 
 or insinuation, which seemed to bear hard upon 
 an absent person, seldom escaped without some 
 observation. Such as, " If any thing were amiss, 
 or conceived to be so, it might be useful tenderly 
 to hint it to the individual, rather than converse 
 with others respecting it." 
 
 Her habitual desire to keep her mind calm, was 
 very instructive. She believed it safest for her, 
 even with regard to some things which are gene- 
 rally viewed as of minor importance, in effect, 
 " to shut her eyes from seeing evil," unless duty 
 required a different conduct. The alteration of 
 her attire appeared to be a sacrifice early required, 
 as one of the first proofs of obedience, and it was 
 reduced to as much simplicity as her worthy 
 flitlier would have fully approved; yet she con- 
 
ELIZABETH PIKE. 313 
 
 trnued to be no less remarkable for neatness than 
 before. 
 
 Though not very free in conversation, nor apt 
 to make professions of regard; yet she cordially 
 loved her friends, and was desirous of " doing 
 good to all." The relative and social duties were 
 of great importance in her view, and, in fulfilling 
 these, «he experienced the kindest assistance from 
 her benevolent and hospitable husband. They 
 manifested, on various occasions, that they were 
 " not forgetful to entertain strangers," Theirs was 
 for many years considered the principal house in 
 Dublin, for receiving Friends from other coun- 
 tries, who were travelling in the work of the 
 ministry; and at the times of holding the national 
 meeting, (then twice in every year,) large numbers 
 of Friends were comfortably accommodated. 
 
 She was remarkably diligent and punctual in 
 the attendance of the meetings to which she be-^ 
 longed, and sometimes visited those in the other 
 provinces of this nation; also, not unfrequently, 
 and very acceptably, united with other Friends in 
 appointed family-visits. 
 
 In 1787, accompanied by her husband, she 
 attended (as representative) the yearly meeting 
 iield in London ; in which she was helpful to pro- 
 mote an increase of care respecting the situation 
 of the poor, and the due appointment of overseers. 
 In accordance with this concern, two appropriate 
 queries were agreed on by the men's yearly meet'- 
 p 
 
314} ELIZABETH PIKE. 
 
 ing, to be added to those already used by thfi 
 women's quarterly and monthly meetings. She ap- 
 peared well satisfied with having taken this journey. 
 Her husband's health seemed in degree recruited 
 by it; but after some time it again declined, and 
 it was concluded needful for him to leave the 
 city: on which they removed to Rathangan, in 
 the county of Kildare, where they remained till 
 his decease, in 1792. During this period she 
 endured much fatigue, anxiety, and loss of rest; 
 being his constant, watchful nurse. 
 
 After the death of her husband, she believed it 
 best for her to fix her residence with her only 
 sister, Margaret Beale, near Cork, who had been 
 left a widow with a large family. They after- 
 wards removed into the city, within a short walk 
 of the meeting-house. Her bodily strength de^ 
 clined almost imperceptibly, till the autumn of 
 1796, when, apparently from liaving taken cold, 
 her throat became sore, with a troublesome cough. 
 Her physician used powerful means, which were 
 thought to lessen her suiferings; and she was 
 quite satisfied with the endeavours used to relieve 
 her, though without any expectation of recovery. 
 Her only sohcitude appeared to be for preserva- 
 tion in patience, and that she might witness a pre- 
 paration for the approaching change. 
 
 From this time she continued to decline, though 
 not always very perceptibly. She employed her 
 niece, Elizabeth Pirn, as her amanuensis, in writing 
 
ELIZABETH PIKE. 315 
 
 to her old friend, Elizabeth Shackleton, (now a 
 widow.) 
 
 " Cork, 21st of 3d month, 1797. 
 
 " Elizabeth Sliackleton, 
 
 " My okl, very dear Friend, 
 
 " I was much obliged to thee and 
 thy daughter Sarah, for your very affectionate 
 letter; as I am now, by your kind enquiry and 
 anxiety about me, expressed in dear Mary's letter. 
 I purposed answering the former before this time, 
 but did not get it done till ailments and weakness 
 came on, and rendered me incapable. My friends 
 set a higher estimation on me than I durst upon 
 myself. They do not know how often I wanted 
 reminding of keeping up the watch so necessary 
 for us all: but Providence was kind in stirring 
 up to that duty. Particularly, for several months 
 back, my spirit has been anxiously engaged, that 
 I might constantly have my mind retired to the 
 divine gift, and that the natural faculties might be 
 kept in subjection thereto. Now, my request is, 
 that it may continue so to be, and that I may be 
 endued with patience and resignation to bear 
 what may be permitted to come. I trust there 
 has been a degree of sincerity of heart; but weak- 
 nesses attended, and I h^ve nothing to depend on 
 but the mercy of a bountiful Creator, either in 
 this or the next life* As to the ailment of my 
 p 2 
 
316 ELIZABETH PIKE. 
 
 body, I think I am not at all free from pain, but in 
 such a bearable degree as I wish to be truly 
 thankful for; as well as for having every neces- 
 sary supply and accommodation, and kind care of 
 my sister and her daughters : also now, the company 
 and assistance of my dear niece, E. Pim, who 
 writes this for me. I love my friends in Leinster, 
 and feel desirous for their welfare. 
 
 " With dear love to you all, I remain 
 
 " Thy affectionate, but poor friend, 
 
 "Elizabeth Pike." 
 
 (Signed by her own hand.) 
 
 A few days afterwards she dictated a letter to 
 her sister-in-law, as follows : 
 
 " Cork, 24th of 3d month, 1797. 
 
 *' My dear sister Pim, 
 
 " I have long and often had to sympathize 
 with thee, in thy great affliction of body, and some- 
 times of mind, and feel the same still for thee. I 
 have no doubt of thy sympathetic feeling for me, 
 in my present disordered state. How desirable, 
 that we may be able to testify, as the apostle did, 
 that * these light afflictions, which are but for a 
 moment, work for us a far more exceeding and 
 eternal weight of glory,' while we look not at the 
 things which are seen, but at the things that are 
 not seen ; * for the things which are seen are tempo- 
 ral, but the things that are not seen are eternal.** 
 
ELIZABETH PIKE. 317 
 
 *^ This is requisite for us all to attend to, as 
 time is uncertain to all; but particularly for us 
 who are far advanced in life, and infirm. In read- 
 ing the Scriptures, I expect thou findest things 
 consolatory as well as instructive. In an exhorta- 
 tion to good works, is mentioned * forbearing one 
 another, and forgiving one another; even as 
 Christ forgave you, so also do ye,' &c. I greatly 
 wish that we may be so initiated into the nature 
 and spirit of the kingdom, whilst here, having our 
 conversation in heaven; from whence, also, we 
 look for the Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ, who, 
 as the apostle said, ' shall change our vile body, 
 that it may be fashioned like unto his glorious 
 body, according to the working whereby he is 
 able even to subdue all things unto himself;' so that 
 we may happily obtain admission into the king- 
 dom, when done with this uncertain time. I un- 
 derstand thou hast been informed by thy children 
 of my bodily ailment. I have now the agreeable 
 company and assistance of thy daughter Eliza- 
 beth, who writes this for me. With very dear 
 love to thee, my brother, and the diiFerent 
 branches of the family residing near thee, and 
 with strong desires for their temporal and eternal 
 welfare, 
 
 " I remain thy truly affectionate sister, 
 
 " Elizabeth Pike.'* 
 
 (Signed by herself.) 
 
318 ELIZABETH PIKE. 
 
 On the same sheet, Elizabeth Pirn wrote : " My 
 aunt declines rapidly, being able to bear very little 
 nourishment or medicine ; but she is very sweet 
 in her spirit, like waiting for a release. I spend 
 most of my time with her, and she seems pleased 
 a4: my doing so, yet does not like that J should be 
 too much confined. My aunt Beale and my cou- 
 sins do what they can for my aunt Pike. She 
 seems grateful for every assistance." 
 
 Nearly two weeks after this time, and only 
 three days before her decease, Elizabeth Pim, 
 having received a letter from London, she mani- 
 fested a lively interest respecting various articles 
 of inteUigence which it contained ; proving that her 
 capacity for participating, both in the comforts 
 and troubles of her friends, was unimpaired. 
 After several remarks, and desiring her love might 
 l>e given to the family, she added, " It may not 
 signify letting them know that I am a poor crea- 
 ture, but it is the case ; yet I feel at times a little 
 sweetness; as much as, I suppose, or more 
 than I deserve." She many times, during her 
 confinement, expressed great acknowledgments 
 for not having greater sufferings, and for being 
 endued with patience and resignation; also for 
 the support which was graciously extended to 
 her. She once said to the doctor, " I have been 
 greatly favoured. Providence has been very kindj 
 in turning my mind to himself. I have endea- 
 voured to serve him. I have no sting — no trans- 
 
ELIZABETH PIKE. 319 
 
 gression, that I know of, to answer for. I ash for 
 nothing but patience and resignation to bear what 
 may be permitted. I am rather desirous of a 
 speedy release, but do not ash for it. I trust some 
 mansion is ready to receive me." The doctor re- 
 marked, that her patience, resignation, and reso- 
 kition, were remarkable. She replied, " Patience 
 and resignation are gifts, and I am thankful for 
 them, and for having nothing laid on me but what 
 is bearable; but resolution I have none, for I do 
 not resolve on any thing. I am much favoured ; 
 nothing is laid on me yet, but v/hat I can easily 
 bear; and I have every accommodation and kind 
 assistance from my friends." 
 
 Notwithstanding these comfortable acknow- 
 ledgments, she appears to have been at times tried 
 with a sense of deep inward poverty, if not seem- 
 ing desertion; which may be gathered from some 
 of the following expressions : *' It is said, * all is 
 well that ends well.' Those who remain will have 
 their conflicts; but the same Hand which sup- 
 ported others, will support them, if it be relied 
 on. The crown, at the end of their race, is worth 
 striving for; but the end of the race of the care- 
 less will be sorrowful. It seems comfortable to be 
 getting away; — nothing in this world to hold me; 
 — no natural tie to keep me, since my husband's 
 decease; and I not likely to be of any use, if I 
 staid longer. I am mostly poor, but sometimes 
 feel a httle sweetness, which is more than my de^ 
 sert. It is welcome. I do not find much to bin- 
 
S20 ELIZABETH PIKE. 
 
 der my going off the stage. I am wishing, if it 
 be the will of Providence, for a release. I hope 
 to be pardoned for my omissions, and for any 
 thing I have done amiss." To a friend she said, 
 " Do the day's work while it is day: whatever 
 thy hands find to do, do it with the might afford- 
 ed. We cannot be heirs of two kingdoms: a 
 
 preference must be given to one. My love to 
 
 I am obliged by what she wrote about me, and it 
 is the case. There is support underneath ; though 
 as much of the love and favour of the Almighty, 
 as could have been desired, was not at all times 
 extended; but latterly I feel more of support and 
 sweetness. I am not for making much show: to 
 be accepted is what I desire, and not to sai^ much 
 about it. I am waiting for my change : sometimes 
 it seems very near, at other times not so near. I 
 desire to be kept watchful till it does come. 
 Sometimes I feel a little comfort, but am often poor 
 enough: perhaps it is best for me, causing me to 
 be more watchful than I might if it were other- 
 wise. The goodness of God endureth continu- 
 ally. I can give my little testimony to this, as far 
 as I have gone. The goodness of God endureth 
 continually: this is all the song I have to sing." 
 
 On the 9th of the 4th month her speech be- 
 came imperfect, but the following expressions 
 were gathered : " The hands which were ready 
 to hang down have been supported." Her niece, 
 Elizabeth Pim, expressed a hope that she con- 
 
ELIZABETH PIKE. 321 
 
 tinued to feel that support. She replied, "Yes." 
 Soon after she said, " My love is to all my friends, 
 particularly my relations. I feel \i fresh: I wish 
 well for all : nothing else in my heart for any one," 
 or to this effect. These were nearly her last 
 words. After which there was a sweet solemnity, 
 and she soon quietly departed. 
 
 Thus this honourable elder finished her course, 
 about one o'clock, the 9th of 4th month, 1797, in 
 the seventy-third year of her age; having been 
 above forty years an active and serviceable mem- 
 ber of religious society. Her character, drawn in 
 her hfe-time by Richard Shackleton, her friend, 
 who knew her long and intimately, will be recog- 
 nised by those who remember her, as 2i.just one. 
 
 " Elizabeth Pike is a remarkable woman in our 
 age and nation, and a true daughter of the church. 
 She has a good mascuhne understanding, great 
 prudence and sagacity. She is a woman of deep 
 religious experience, devoted in all her faculties 
 to the service of truth; plain and sincere in her 
 religious conduct, yet holding her authority in the 
 meekness of wisdom, and moving feelingly, under 
 the canopy of love, in humility and mildness. She 
 is true, staunch, and steady in her friendships, 
 which are very select; and an avowed enemy and 
 zealous reprover of tale-bearing and detraction. 
 She is a quick discerner of spirits, and sound in 
 judgment of appearances in the ministry. She 
 does not officiate in that line, but is well gifted for 
 p 3 
 
S22 JOSEPH INMAN. 
 
 discipline; which she exercises in reverent fear, 
 and with the savour of truth on her spirit." 
 
 (From MS.) 
 
 JOSEPH INMAN. 
 
 Joseph Inman, -born about the year 1726, was a 
 man whose memory is dear to his friends; and 
 whose steady walking, from youth to age, has left 
 an example worthy of imitation. To him might 
 be applied the character given in holy writ : " An 
 Israelite indeed, in whom was no guile." 
 
 In the year 1748 he married Ruth Hoope, born 
 in Ulster province; obtaining in her a woi'thy and 
 amiable companion. Their residence was Bally- 
 brittan, near Edenderry; of which meeting they 
 were members, and both were in the station of 
 elders. They had no children, but, being be- 
 loved by, and loving young persons, they had 
 generally several of such assembled about them; 
 who beheld, in their valued friends, the sweetness 
 which a well-regulated life diffused over their 
 manners and conversation. Cautious of speaking 
 to the disadvantage of any one, they endeavoui'ed 
 to repress in others any tendency to this error, 
 which is so prone to slide into familiar discourse* 
 
JOSEPH INMAN. 32S 
 
 They were affluent and hospitable without osten- 
 tation, and preserved in great simplicity. 
 
 Joseph Inman was active in the discipline of the 
 society, in the monthly meeting to which he be- 
 longed, as well as in general meetings. His up- 
 right dealings and his benevolence gained him 
 very general esteem. His deportment was marked 
 with meekness and innocency, in no small degree ; 
 and he possessed so much kindness of heart, that 
 it distressed him to be told of petty depredations 
 on his property, from the struggle between his 
 sense of justice, and his reluctance to punish of- 
 fenders. 
 
 As he was dihgent himself in attending meet- 
 ings, so he was qualified to remark the omissions 
 of others, in this respect, to themselves. When 
 he missed his friends from meeting, he was wont 
 to pay them a visit, to know whether indisposition 
 had kept them at home ; gently expressing his 
 opinion, that nothing else should prevent the per- 
 formance of this indispensable duty. His belief 
 in revealed religion was simple and sincere. He 
 desired, for himself and others, that they might^ 
 not meddle in matters too high for their compre- 
 hension, but humbly perform their known duties ; 
 frequently advising against giving ear to the rea- • 
 soner. 
 
 He endured a lingering illness with patience 
 and resignation; and departed this life, 8th of 
 5th month, 1800, aged seventy-four. 
 
324 JOSEPH POOLE. 
 
 His widow died at Rathangan, in the year 1814*, 
 aged eighty-eight. 
 
 Edenderry Monthly Meeting. 
 
 JOSEPH POOLE. 
 
 Joseph, the son of Joseph and Jane Poole, wa& 
 born at Growtown, county of Wexford, in the 
 year 1731. He profited by the guarded educa- 
 tion which he received. His habits of industry 
 did not weaken his religious feelings, and he has 
 been heard to say, that he has seldom been more 
 sensible of the influence of divine consolation, than 
 when following his plough. 
 
 He believed, for many years, that it was requir- 
 ed of him to preach the gospel ; yet, through diffi- 
 dence, long withheld this sacrifice. When he 
 appeared as a minister, his doctrine was sounds 
 and his conversation consistent with it. He was 
 wont to lead the discourse, where he was in com- 
 pany, to religious subjects. His neighbours ex- 
 perienced the benefit of his advice, not only on 
 subjects of the greatest importance, but on those 
 which concerned their temporal afiairs. He studied 
 the welfare and comfort of those who were under 
 
JOSEPH POOLE. 3^5 
 
 Ills care; lie was kind to his tenantry, and liberal 
 to the poor ; and had the respect and regard of all 
 who knew his worth. 
 
 He married, in 1765, Sarah, daughter of Jacob 
 Martin, of Aghfad, county of Wexford. 
 
 He did not travel much in the work of the mi- 
 nistry : he was diligent in the attendance of meet- 
 ings at home, and those for more general service. 
 In the year 1784, he accompanied that devoted 
 servant of the Lord, John Pemberton, of Phila- 
 delphia, in religious visits to some meetings of 
 friends in Leinster, as also to sundry places in 
 Connaught and Munster, where none of the society 
 resided. 
 
 In 1785, his son Joseph died, [see p. 28S,J 
 This was a close- trial to the parents of this youth ; 
 but the affliction was borne with submission to the 
 wise decision of Him who gives and takes away. 
 
 This our Friend's last illness was not of long 
 continuance ; nor did it confine him entirely to his 
 bed, till the day which closed his life. He seemed 
 to have entertained but little prospect of recovery, 
 from the early part of his indisposition ; and re- 
 peated to his physician most of the seven first 
 verses of the 12th chapter of Ecclesiastes, con- 
 cluding with: " Then shall the dust return to the 
 earth as it was, and the spirit to God who gave it." 
 He suffered much from difficulty of breathing; 
 and though he expressed the happiness of feeling 
 a peaceful conscience, he found the pains of disso- 
 lution hard for nature to support, often craving 
 
MARY MOORE. 
 
 divine aid and mercy. Observing the attention of 
 those who waited on him, he said : " Except the 
 Lord keep the city, the watchman waketh but in 
 vain." These were nearly his last words. He died 
 theS3d of 12th month, 1800. Those who were 
 present, felt a solemn calm to cover their minds at 
 that time, and one of them was strengthened, feel- 
 ingly to express these words of consolation: "O 
 death ! where is thy sting ? O grave ! where is 
 thy victory?" 
 
 County of Wexford Monthly Meeting. 
 
 MARY MOORE. 
 
 Mary Mgore, daughter of Nicholas and Susanna 
 Moore, was born in Waterford, 1727; and though, 
 for the most part, she dwelt in her native place, 
 yet she visited some parts of the nation, with the 
 unity of her friends, and was frequently employed 
 in that truly useful and necessary work of visiting 
 the families of those of her own society. She was 
 a minister in good esteem, and of exemplary life, 
 and seemed to have no greater joy than to see 
 truth and righteousness prosper in the earth. She 
 was earnest to exhort the old and the young to 
 
BENJAMIN GRUBB. 827 
 
 seek an acquaintance with the Lord ; to take up 
 their daily cross, and follow a crucified Saviour; 
 and endeavour to do their day's work while health 
 and strength were afforded, and not to leave the 
 great and necessary work of their soul's salvation 
 to a sick bed and rolling pillow. 
 
 She appeared to tread a quiet path through 
 life, and died the Sd of 6th month, 1801; leaving 
 on the minds of her friends an impression of esteem 
 and affection for her memory. She was aged 
 about seventy-four; a minister about forty years. 
 
 From Testimony of Waterford Monthly Meeting. 
 
 BENJAMIN GRUBB. 
 
 Benjamin Grubb, son of John and Anne Grubhj. 
 was born in 1727 or 1728. In the year 1758, he 
 took to wife Susanna, the daughter of James and 
 Susanna Malone, friends belonging to Carlow 
 monthly meeting, and settled in Clonmel. His 
 wife united with him in giving their children a re- 
 ligious education. Benjamin Grubb was a man of 
 good sense, uprightness, and simplicity ; an affec- 
 tionate husband, a tender father, and a kind mas- 
 ter. He loved to have his friends under his roof, 
 
S2S BENJAMIN GRUBH. 
 
 where they were entertained with genuine hospi^' 
 tality; he was compassionate to his fellow-crea- 
 tures, and it was evident that he endeavoured to 
 keep a conscience void of offence toward God and 
 toward man : an honourable elder, being well qua- 
 lified for active service in the discipline of the re- 
 ligious society to which he belonged. He enjoyed 
 a long continuance of health, and was industrious 
 in business. His blameless, consistent conduct ; 
 the solidity, free from austerity, of his deportment; 
 and his kind, unassuming manners, caused him to 
 be loved and respected. Attacked by paralytic 
 complaints, he lingered for nearly three years, 
 under great bodily weakness, yet was favoured 
 with a continuance of his mental faculties; and, 
 during that time, was never heard to utter an im- 
 patient word, but bore his sufferings with resigna- 
 tion and tranquillity of mind; and, as long as he 
 could, attended religious meetings, his feeble steps 
 thereto being supported by his dutiful and affec- 
 tionate children. He died in the 2d month, 1802, 
 aged seventy-four. 
 
 Susanna Grubb, his widow, outlived her beloved 
 husband a few years. Her health, before impair- 
 ed, after his removal declined more rapidly ; and 
 early in the year 1806, she passed quietly away, 
 aged seventy-five. 
 
 County of Tipperary Monthly Meeting. 
 
3^9 
 
 ELIZA CHAMBERLAIN. 
 
 Eli^a, daughter of Thomas and Dorothy Cham- 
 berlain, late of Cooladine, in the county of Wex- 
 ford, was born 22d of 2d month, 1 777. In the 
 year 1788, her father was removed by death; 
 soon after which, her mother placed her at Suir- 
 island school. Here she took the small pox, 
 which proved of a malignant kind. 
 
 After remaining some time longer at school, 
 she returned to her mother, with whom she con^ 
 tinued till her decease, in the year 1792. She 
 was thus left without parents, about the fif- 
 teenth year of her age. In the same year she was 
 placed at Mountmellick boarding school, under the 
 care of Anne Shannon; with whom, as her years 
 increased, she formed a close and very tender 
 friendship. 
 
 When Deborah Darby and Rebecca Young 
 visited this nation, in 1797, their ministry seems to 
 have been instrumental to turn her mind into a 
 deeper consideration of the things which belonged 
 to her peace. As a diary and some letters written 
 by her have been preserved, a few exti-acts from 
 them may be acceptable and instructive. 
 
 From the Diary, 1798. 
 ** Went to meeting as usual, and received little 
 
330 ELIZA CHAMBERLAIN. 
 
 improvement, I fear: when shall I have my 
 thoughts in proper-subjection? 
 
 "■8th of 1st month. Went to visit my old 
 friends, poor as well as rich : what gratitude do 
 some of them feel for slight services! 
 
 " 16th. Governess took me to visit a poor 
 family: surely it is good for us to visit those 
 who are struggling with difficulties. 
 
 " 28th. In the sitting after tea^ had a mourn- 
 ful prospect of my faults. I hardly do or say any 
 thing, that, in the cool hour of reflection, will bear 
 the test. 
 
 " 1st of 2d month. Got credit for something 
 that I hardly deserved: surely undeserved praise 
 is the keenest censure. 
 
 "21st. Was convinced, beyond any manner of 
 doubt, that our words ought to be few ; and that 
 much speaking, though the subject be innocent, is 
 oftener to be repented of than much silence." 
 
 On completing her twenty-first year, Eliza 
 Chamberlain came into possession of her property, 
 which enabled her to gratify many of the benevo- 
 lent wishes of her heart. She was the friend of 
 the helpless, of the orphan, and the widow: her 
 liberahty was only bounded by her means, and 
 her bounty was bestowed with a dehcate respect 
 to the feelings of those she assisted, which en- 
 hanced the obligation. She devoted a large por- 
 tion of her time to the poor, many of whom she 
 visited in their lonely dwellings j cheering them by 
 
ELIZA CHAMBERLAIN. 331 
 
 her affectionate kindness, as well as administering 
 to their bodily wants. She was attentive to the 
 interests of her tenants ; giving them leases on 
 such moderate terms as enabled them to live com- 
 fortably. In 1799 she perfected the lease of a 
 piece of ground at Cooladine, for a burial place for 
 the people called Quakers, at a nominal rent. On 
 her attaining the age of twenty-one years, she 
 made the following remarks : 
 
 22d of 2d month, 1798. " The twenty-first an- 
 niversary of that in which I first drew breath. Is 
 it not the most important of my life; and to what 
 good purpose have I employed it? Not in doing 
 the utmost I might have done, to serve and obey 
 my beneficent Creator; not in striving, as much as 
 I ought, to correct my temper ; not in praying as fer- 
 vently as I should, to be henceforward preserved in 
 the path of undeviating obedience to the calls of duty : 
 though the prayer of the wise king was brought, 
 at least, to my remembrance : ' I am but a little 
 child: give to thy servant an understanding heart.' 
 Now surely I am doubly called upon to act rightly. 
 My state of infancy and childhood is past ; and 
 now, by my peculiar situation in life, am I launch- 
 ing into the cares and troubles of the world. Oh ! 
 may I, in the commerce of fife, be preserved from 
 right-hand errors, and left-hand errors, and may 
 the query still be present with me, (if I dare to 
 think of valuing myself on, or attempt to make an 
 improper use of the gifts of Providence,) ' Who 
 maketh thee to differ from another, or what hast 
 thou that thou didst not receive V And with re- 
 
SS2 ELIZA CHAMBERLAIN. 
 
 spect to my mental abilities, may I be clothed with 
 the shining robe of humiUty. At times I am 
 greatly humbled, under the feeling of my own 
 weakness, worthlessness, and inability to act with 
 propriety, even in the common occurrences of life, 
 in which I see so many shine; but then self, that 
 subtle deceiver, that bosom enemy, which we all 
 have to war with, maliciously whispers in my too- 
 attentive ear, that I am wiser, and, forsooth, bet- 
 ter-informed than many. Ah! who is proof 
 against this insinuating adversary? Who are not 
 liable to think more highly of themselves than 
 they ought? Those alone who keep under the 
 humiliating, soul-prostrating influence of that 
 love which flows universally to all mankind, poor 
 as well as rich, ignorant as well as wise; and a 
 strict attention to that inward monitor, which 
 shows us impartially what we are, lays open the 
 hidden, and often corrupt motives of our appa- 
 rently good actions; and convinces, beyond a 
 doubt, that ' the heart is deceitful above all things, 
 and desperately wicked.' Oh ! may I, when again 
 disposed to think more highly of myself than I 
 ought to think, have the mournful prospect of my 
 faults and omissions brought to my view; and how 
 infinitely,, how immeasurably short do I fall, in 
 every instance, of that blessed nature which is held 
 up for our imitation!" 
 
 About this time she appears to have been as- 
 sisting to nurse a sick friend, and she says : " Oh !^ 
 may I, when laid on the bed of sickness, (which,. 
 
ELIZA CHAMBERLAIN. SSS 
 
 some time or other, I must expect,) be enabled to 
 bear, with patience and resignation, the pain and 
 affliction I may have to suffer; and in order there- 
 to, to prepare myself, while favoured with health 
 and strength, for that awful moment. For, if our 
 life be not that of the righteous, we have no rea* 
 son to expect our latter end will be like theirs." 
 
 " 27th of 2d month. Went to see E. C. 
 and, I hope, I got a lesson of patient resignation, 
 worthy to be remembered, from observing the 
 contentment visible in her countenance and man- 
 ner." 
 
 '* 5th of 1st month, 1799. Found mortification 
 was good for me. May I be preserved from re- 
 senting disrespectful treatment; for while I do, let 
 me pretend to what I will, I am in the same spirit 
 as the aggressor. 
 
 9th. Visited several poor people: a profitable 
 exercise, if it would teach us to number our bless- 
 ings. 
 
 "18th. A Christian must suffer deeply and fre- 
 quently, was impressed on my mind of late: yes, in 
 body and mind, they must be wiUing to give up all 
 in this world, who expect the reward of eternal life 
 in the next : I mean, happiness. How hard is this 
 to the creaturely will and wisdom; but this will 
 and wisdom must also be resigned. 
 
 *' 24th. How much more elevated-^more sub- 
 lime, are the sentiments of a true Christian, than 
 of the greatest and most refined morahst. 
 
 *' 22d of 2d month. Even this very day, though 
 
'S34 ELIZA CHAMBERLAIN. 
 
 often thoughtful that it was my birth-day, has not 
 been free from condemnation: I talked too much, 
 and was disconcerted at a favourite sentiment 
 being contradicted." 
 
 She notes her birth-days, by aspirations after a 
 greater degree of acceptance with Him who gave 
 her being. In 1800, she thus expresses herself on 
 this occasion: " Should this be the last year that 
 I remain in this uncertain state, may it be so 
 spent as to ensure peace on a death-bed, that ten 
 thousand worlds cannot procure. If unfeigned re- 
 pentance for the past, upright conduct at the 
 present, and sincere resolves to act well in future, 
 are not now united in my life, what shall I expect, 
 but that aggravated punishment justly due?" 
 
 In a letter to a friend, she says: "My natural 
 disposition is reserved ; and though nature may be 
 much improved, it is seldom entirely changed, ex- 
 cept by the work of religion ; so that I believe it is 
 best for me to content myself with what I am, and 
 not aspire to what others would have me to be." 
 
 These extracts from this young person's private 
 writings, demonstrate the sincerity of her heart. 
 
 Being on a journey, she lay on a damp bed: this, 
 it was thought, occasioned an affection of the 
 lungs, from which she never wholly recovered. 
 Thus were the fatal seeds of consumption sown, 
 l)efore she had completed her 24th year. 
 
 In 6th month, 1801, the disease seems to have 
 made some progress, for she remarks: " While 
 4^hus confined from assembling myself along with 
 
ELIZA CHAMBERLAIN. 3S5 
 
 those with whom I make profession of religion, 
 oh! may I not grow lukewarm and careless about 
 the great work of sanctification ; for surely it is a 
 heart-work, and we may be as diligently employed 
 therein whilst in the closet, as in the most crowd- 
 ed assemblies for religious worship. How often 
 in these does the mind wander from its true cen- 
 tre, following some darling scheme and incHnation ; 
 though the body may be still, and the countenance 
 so composed, that our fellow-creatures may think 
 we are performing that worship in spirit, which is 
 alone true worship : but he who knows the heart, 
 and reads the most secret thoughts and intents 
 thereof, will punish for this hypocrisy. 
 
 " 1st of 1802. A new year is commenced, per- 
 haps the last that I shall see in this world : but 
 that would be of Httle consequence if my peace were 
 made, and that I had an assurance of everlasting 
 felicity hereafter. Alas! for me, this is not the 
 case. My poor, weak mind, that used to be em- 
 ployed about trifles, is now occupied about the 
 diseased body, and seems to have little time for 
 any other thoughts. Oh! may strength be vouch^ 
 safed to me, an unworthy creature, to serve the 
 Lord the remainder of my days." 
 
 On her birth-day this last year of her hfe, 180^, 
 she thus solemnly and impressively observes: 
 *' Entered into my 25th year. Now surely I am 
 so far advanced in life, as to make it necessary for 
 me to think seriously of my conduct, of my pur- 
 suits, of the part I am acting; and no longer to 
 
336 ELIZA CHAMBERLAIN. 
 
 trifle away the precious moments which were 
 given, that I might, by a perfect obedience, so 
 glorify my Creator here, as to be prepared for a 
 reception into his presence, when this veil of flesh 
 is dissolved, and the spirit appears before that 
 awful tribunal, where my actions will be judged 
 by unerring justice. Ohl my God, have mercy 
 upon me : compassionate my weakness, forgive my 
 iniquities. And oh! pardon, if it be thy blessed 
 will, my numerous deviations from known duties. 
 Ah! strengtlien this weak body, that I may make 
 my peace with thee before I go hence." 
 
 In a letter to a friend, she thus expresses her- 
 self: " I am a good, deal shut out from my near 
 relatives, by being here, yet is every deficiency 
 made up in the company of my dear A. S. who, 
 notwithstanding her many avocations, is to me the 
 kind, sympathizing friend, the instructive compa- 
 nion, and affectionate provider of all that is neces- 
 sary in my present state of health ; to which she 
 attends with, I think, too much assiduity." 
 
 During the paroxysms of disease, her mind was 
 sweetly calm, and her patience admirable. Modest 
 and diffident as she was by nature, she beheved it 
 right for her to expostulate with a young person, 
 who, she apprehended, was deficient in keeping 
 good resolutions; describing to her something of 
 her own inward conflict, in which the language of 
 her spirit had been, " A Saviour, or I die ; a Re- 
 deemer, or I perish 1" 
 
 At timeS; the health of this beloved young 
 
ELIZA CHAMBERLAIN. 33T 
 
 woman was so much benefited by the means resorted 
 to for its restoration, that a prospect of her reco- 
 very was cherished by her friends: again their 
 hopes were clouded ; and in this fluctuating state 
 she continued till the 11th month, 1802, when she 
 evidently and rapidly dechned. On the 13th of 
 that month, she told her physician that she had 
 never felt any pain equal to the difficulty of breath- 
 ing she then laboured under ; yet she frequently 
 smiled sweetly through her sufferings, and, while 
 passing through a distressing night, appeared to 
 feel less for herself than for the person who 
 watched with her. 
 
 On the 14th she breakfasted in the parlour, yet 
 her increasing weakness was evident. With the 
 diffidence of a humble Christian, she mentioned to 
 her beloved A. S. that, though she could not say 
 much as to an assurance respecting futurity, she 
 had a hope that, with the thief on the cross, she 
 should be received into mercy. 
 
 She had for some time under her care, a poor 
 young girl who had lost the use of her limbs, to 
 whose wants, she constantly administered, and 
 whom, when in health, she often visited. About 
 noon, this last day of her Hfe, she sent for an in- 
 timate friend, and confided to her the charge of 
 this helpless creature; which, when her friend 
 kindly undertook, Eliza seemed to have no further 
 concern in the things of this hfe. Another friend 
 coming in the afternoon, she conversed, apparently 
 Q 
 
338 MARY RIDGWAY. 
 
 with as much ease as if free from pain. On one 
 occasion she expressed her behef, that there was 
 no state in the Christian progress more difficult to 
 attain, than that of being willing to be accounted 
 as the ofFscouring of all things. 
 
 She spoke of the ease she had enjoyed for the 
 last two hours, with thankfulness ; and a restless- 
 ness coming on, desired to change her posture ; 
 after which, a sharp conflict with the pangs of 
 death seized on her exhausted frame. Yet, in this 
 hour of agony, she said: "What signify these 
 pangs, when all happiness is placed beyond them V* 
 and, in a few minutes after, her spirit was disen^ 
 cumbered of mortality. She died, 14th of 11th 
 month, 1802, in the 25th year of her age. 
 
 From MS. 
 
 MARY RIDGWAY. 
 
 Mary, the daughter of Joseph and Marj^ Spai-kes, 
 was born in Exeter, the 30th of 9th month, 1728; 
 and in the early part of her life, yielded to a con- 
 formity witii the world, in her appearance, speech, 
 and behaviour. From this delusive world, how^ 
 ever, in the bloom of youth, she was enabled to 
 turn into the narrow path of self-denial; and, sub- 
 
MARY RIDGWAY, ' SS9 
 
 mitting her will to the divine will, after many deep 
 conflicts and baptisms of spirit, preparing her for 
 the work of the ministry, she was qualified to tell 
 unto others what the Lord has done for her soul. 
 
 Not long after her coming forth as a minister, 
 she came into Ireland, in company with Sarah 
 Splatt, on a religious visit to Friends of this na- 
 tion, in the year 1753. Sarah Splatt being 
 obliged to refrain from travelling, on account of in- 
 disposition, Mary was, for a time, accompanied on 
 her journey by EHzabeth Carleton, (afterwards 
 Shackleton.) In the year 1754, she was married to 
 Joshua Ridgway, of Ballicarrol, in the Queen's 
 county, who died in the prime of life. During his 
 life, she had not much public service, home seem- 
 ing to be her proper allotment ; but after his de- 
 cease she was diligent in her ministerial office. 
 Her exercises through life were many and varied, 
 both outwardly and inwardly ; (those from without 
 of a very peculiar and trying nature ;) yet she was 
 happily preserved in meekness and patience, say- 
 ing, in the language of conduct; "Thy will, O 
 Lord, not mine, be done. 
 
 One who knew her from her early hfe, thus 
 writes concerning her: " I have had to remember 
 somewhat of the tribulated path she had to tread, 
 and which, no doubt, gradually fitted her for an 
 entrance into that kingdom, where rest and peace 
 for ever reign ; as well as helped to qualify her for 
 eminent services in the church militant, while on 
 Q 2 
 
S40 MARY RIDGWAY. 
 
 earth. She was tried at all points, but held fast 
 her integrity under all her various probations: the 
 winds blew, the rains descended, and the floods 
 came, but her habitation stood firm. And why? 
 because it was founded on a rock: that rock 
 against which all the powers of darkness, or all the 
 trials of time can never prevail." 
 
 Her humility and mildness of disposition were 
 particularly conspicuous ; and she was remarkably 
 careful to cultivate, even in company, that inward 
 recollection and retirement of mind, by which she 
 was preserved in purity of heart, and was often 
 favoured with near access to the Fountain of all 
 Good. Those who were young in her day, re- 
 member her motherly tenderness towards them; 
 her gravity, her gentleness, her guarded familari- 
 ty, and the uniform courtesy of her demeanour: 
 walking before them an example of Christian vh- 
 lues. 
 
 Often, in the drawings of divine love, she visited 
 different parts of this nation, also Friends in Eng- 
 land several times; and once, pretty generally, 
 Friends on the continent of Americ^. So that 
 there was little cessation of her labours; and, even 
 when far advanced in life, this devoted servant 
 crossed the channel twice. After this she travelled 
 no more abroad, but attended meetings at home, 
 whilst of ability of body, and ministering therein 
 to edification and comfort; evincing, that He who 
 had been her morning light, was then her evening 
 song. She peacefully put ofi' mortality, the 16th 
 
LOUISA CONRAJf. 341 
 
 of 3d month, 1804, aged about seventy-six, and a 
 minister about fifty-five years. 
 
 The quarterly meeting of Leinster province thus 
 testify concerning their " fresh recollection of her 
 extensive usefulness in these our general meetings, of 
 which she was a diligent attender, though often in 
 great weakness and infirmity of body, wherein her 
 services, both as a member and minister, were 
 truly satisfactory and edifying. She was fre- 
 quently engaged in family visits, and exercised in 
 her gift in families where her lot was cast. Of a 
 sympathizing spirit, it may be truly said, she, in an 
 eminent degree, possessed ' pure religion and un- 
 defiled; visiting the fatherless and widows in their 
 affliction, and keeping herself unspotted from the 
 world;' thereby leaving a bright example to us, 
 her survivors ; she being thus enabled, through 
 faith and patience, to follow the Captain of her 
 sauFs salvation." 
 
 From Testimonj of Mountmellick JMonthly Meeting. 
 
 LOUISA GONRAN. 
 
 Louisa, the daughter of Samuel and Anne Strang- 
 man, was born at MountmelHck, in the year 1755. 
 At an early age she manifested a desire to be ac- 
 
342 LOUISA CONRAN. 
 
 ceptable in the sight of her Creator, and became 
 an example of humility and self-denial to the 
 youth ; while her stability and solidity of conduct, 
 recommended her to those more advanced in life. 
 
 In 1783, on her marriage with John Conran, 
 she became a member of Lisburn meeting. She 
 was endowed with clear discernment in matters re- 
 lating to the discipline, and was active in the pro- 
 motion of it. She seldom missed attending the 
 yearly meeting in Dublin, and several times at- 
 tended that held in London. She was in the sta- 
 tion of an elder. Exemplary as her life had been, 
 she experienced, in her last illness, those fear& 
 with which many diffident, though purified spirits, 
 have been tried. She supphcated for forgiveness,, 
 and that her dross and tin, and reprobate silver, 
 might be done away. She acknowledged that she 
 was nothing ; but that Christ was all, and that her 
 hopes of salvation were through him. 
 
 She said she had been concerned, from her 
 youth up, to keep the testimonies w^hich Friends 
 have to bear ; and her belief was, that they were 
 the testimonies of truth. She took an affectionate 
 farewell of her female servants, and recommended 
 to them to let truth and honesty be the governing 
 principles of their lives. She desired her love to 
 be remembered to several friends, and concluded 
 with saying, "I love all." 
 
 The last words which she is recollected to have 
 spoken, and those she spoke distinctly, were: 
 "Who is this great enemy that surrounds me? 
 
JOSEPH WILLIAMS. 343 
 
 Christ will overcome him." After this she lay 
 silent, though apparently sensible, till she quietly 
 expired, without a sigh, 4th of 12th month, 1805, 
 aged fifty. 
 
 Lisbura Monthly Meeting. 
 
 JOSEPH WILLIAMS. 
 
 Joseph Williams, son of Joseph and Mary Wil- 
 liams, was born in Dubhn, in 1736. In 1761 he 
 married Jane Chamberlain. The monthly meet- 
 ing of Dublin gave forth the following testimony 
 concerning him : " This our beloved friend was, 
 early in life, visited by the tendering impressions 
 of that grace which is sufficient for us ; and, hav- 
 ing measurably submitted to follow his Lord, he 
 became useful in the church, and an elder much 
 esteemed. He was diligent in attending meetings 
 for worship and discipline at home, and frequently 
 attended those in other parts. 
 
 " About the year 1787, he came came forth in 
 the ministry; and, in the exercise of his gift, he was 
 sound and edifying, and, at times, much favoured. 
 Although he travelled but little with certificate, 
 yet, with the approbation of our monthly meeting, 
 he, at sundry times, visited the meetings of Friends 
 
344 JOSEPH WILLIAMS. . 
 
 in the quarterly meeting to which he belonged, aj^ 
 well as those of the other quarterly meetings of 
 this nation; and, under appointment of the na- 
 tional meeting, he several times visited Friends, 
 generally, throughout the island. 
 
 " He was of unaffected manners, plain and un- 
 disguised in his mode of expression, and of great 
 candour: he was * a lover of hospitality, a lover 
 of good men;' much devoted to the cause of truth, 
 and zealous for its promotion ; and, on some occa- 
 sions, he exhibited great firmness of mind; not 
 suffering private considerations, or personal feel- 
 ings, to warp him from what he conceived to be his 
 duty. 
 
 " For many years he had much of the service of 
 society on him; and, under the weight thereof, 
 from the lukewarmness and degeneracy that pre- 
 vailed, he M^as, at times, almost ready to sink; but 
 the Guide of his youth continued, mercifully, to 
 be his support,- even to old age. In discipline he 
 was of quick discernment and sound judgment, 
 and desirous, not only of its support, but that it 
 should be supported in the right line and spirit ; 
 and, in a letter he wrote to our monthly meeting, 
 at a time he was prevented, by indisposition, from 
 attending, he expressed himself, on that subject, 
 nearly as follows : ' On my awaking this mornings, 
 the state of the monthly meeting became the sub- 
 ject of my though tfulness and consideration; and 
 a desire attended my mind, that you might centre 
 to the precious gift in yourselves, and, waiting 
 
JOSEPH WILLIAMS. 345 
 
 thereon, feel its influence to qualify you for rightly 
 moving, and transacting the business that may 
 come before you: for, a small portion thereof, 
 does more for us than all the natural qualifications 
 we may have as men; yet these, when kept in 
 their places, are great favours and additional bless- 
 ings/ 
 
 " In the year 1 792, he attended the northern 
 yearly meeting, held at Whitehaven, and the half- 
 yearly meeting of Scotland : he also, many times, 
 attended the yearly meeting in London. The last 
 meeting he was at, was one appointed for the 
 youth of this city ; and, although in great weak- 
 ness of body, he was enabled to communicate 
 suitable counsel on the occasion, and, as it were, 
 take a farewell of his friends. From that time he 
 continued to decline in health, and, for the most 
 part, was confined to the house. During our last 
 yearly meeting, he was unable to bear much com- 
 pany; yet, at one time, in an opportunity of re- 
 ligious retirement, many friends being present, 
 amongst other things, he expressed himself to the 
 following import: * He that entereth not by the 
 door into the sheepfold, but climbeth up some 
 other way, the same is a thief and a robber ; and 
 we cannot go out of the right way, and in again, at 
 our pleasure.' 
 
 " Continuing to decHne, he was removed into 
 the country, a short distance from this city, where 
 he was, several weeks, confined to his bed, during 
 which time, to his close, he spoke but little. 
 q3 
 
S46 JOSEPH WILLIAMS* 
 
 *^He departed tbis life, the 17th of the 8tL 
 month, 1807; and his remains were interred,^ the 
 20th of the same, accompanied to the burial- 
 ground by a large number of Friends and others ; 
 a solemn silence prevailing, with little interruption^ 
 from the house to the grave-yard. He was aged 
 nearly seventy-one years ; a minister about twenty 
 years. 
 
 " Thus our beloved friend finished his course; 
 and, we trust, has entered into that rest which is 
 prepared for the righteous. May we, who remain 
 behind, labour to know our minds redeemed from 
 the spirit of this fading world, and placed on 
 things above, that are durable, and pass not away; 
 that so, when we shall draw near our final close, 
 in time, we may each of us experience the * effect 
 of righteousness to be quietness and assurance for 
 ever.' " 
 
 His widow survived him several years : she was 
 in the station of an elder. She departed this life 
 the 14th of the 1st month, 1821, leaving a bright 
 example of a meek, circumspect conduct.. 
 
347 
 
 THOMAS FAYLE. 
 
 Thomas Fayle was born in the King's County, 
 in 174^. He was apprenticed to a Friend in 
 Dublin, and settled in that city. That sobriety 
 and thoughtfulness which distinguished his early 
 days, accompanied him throughout his life ; and as 
 his years increased, his usefulness in the rehgious 
 society of Friends, of which he was a member, 
 increased also. He was much concerned that its 
 Christian discipline should be faithfully supported, 
 and was active in the administration of it. He 
 was a man of plainness, solid sincerity, and firm- 
 ness. He spoke his sentiments honestly, whether 
 in meetings for discipline, or to individuals; and 
 he encouraged others to speak the truth, every 
 man to his brother. He was often engaged in 
 visiting Friends in their famiUes. 
 
 In the year 1773 he married Abigail, the 
 daughter of James and Susanna Malone, mem- 
 bers of Carlow monthly meeting. In her he had 
 a tender and sympathizing wife — a true help- 
 meet. Their joint care was extended for the pre- 
 servation of their children, in the safe path of 
 simplicity and consistency of conduct, from unpro- 
 fitable company and injurious reading; encourag- 
 ing the good that was in them, and endeavouring 
 to check and prevent the growth of what was 
 
348 THOMAS FAYLE. 
 
 wrong ; and treating them with the tenderness of 
 parental love, thereby gaining their affection and 
 confidence. They had the great comfort and 
 blessing to see their hopes fulfilled, and their 
 anxieties repaid, by the conduct of their offspring ; 
 and, ruling their own house well, were qualified 
 to admonish and encourage others to do likewise. 
 They were both in the station of elders. Tho- 
 mas Fayle several times attended the yearly meet- 
 ing held in London. He was desirous that 
 Friends might not pursue their trades, so as to 
 encumber their minds, and unfit them for religious 
 services. In this he was exemplary; as also in 
 his uprightness and punctuality in transacting 
 business. His faithful wife was desirous that he 
 should fulfil every duty which he believed was 
 required of him; even though it should separate 
 them for a time, and thus deprive her of his com- 
 pany and encouragement at home. She was diffi- 
 dent in offering her sentiments in meetings of dis- 
 cipline; but when she did, a sense of rectitude 
 attended the expression of them. She was de- 
 sirous to avoid superfluity in her domestic econo- 
 my, particularly in furniture; yet heartily united 
 with her worthy husband in the exercise of hos- 
 pitality. There was a cheerful kindness to be 
 met with in visiting them, which attracted and 
 attached their friends; and the genuine piety 
 which warmed tlieir hearts, was beheld in their 
 countenances, and felt in their conversation. They 
 were more in substance than in show. 
 
THOMAS FAYLE. 349 
 
 Thomas Fayle enjoyed the privilege of almost 
 uninterrupted health. The health of his wife 
 had been in an impaired state for some years ; and 
 when she became more indisposed, and suffered 
 much pain, she earnestly desired that the Lord 
 would grant her patience to bear whatever sufFer- 
 inffs mio-ht be allotted to her. To one of hei' 
 sons she spoke to this effect: " Seek first the 
 kingdom of heaven, and all things will be added ; 
 all things necessary will be added. Do not suffer 
 the honours or profits of this world to draw thy 
 attention from that which is alone necessary. The 
 riches of this world should be considered as dross 
 and dung, that so we may win Christ. M^^ pain 
 is great. What a long illness I have had — nov/ 
 nearly two years! I believe it is for my good. 
 I am not murmuring — I hope I am not murmur- 
 ins at the loncf illness I have been favoured with. 
 How thankful I ought to be for the many favours 
 and blessings I have experienced!" 
 
 Though her illness was long, her last confine- 
 ment to her chamber was only three days; and on 
 the 15th of 4th month, 1805, her valuable life 
 closed, at the age of sixty-seven. Her loss deeply 
 affected the minds of her affectionate husband 
 and children. 
 
 On the 15th of 5th month, 1808, Thomas Fayle 
 appeared not so well as usual; but attended both 
 meetings, it being the first day of the week. In 
 the evening he desired the Bible might be read, 
 
850 THOMAS FAYLE. 
 
 and, after a time of silence, which was usual when 
 the Scriptures had been read in his family, he made 
 some observations on the instructive parable of 
 the sower. As he did not get better, his family 
 called in medical assistance. The physician gave 
 little hopes of his recovery. He spoke himself of 
 the probable termination of this illness ; desired 
 to be undisturbed; adding, " There seems no 
 sting. I never made much show ; but what I did, 
 I endeavoured to do it honestly. I have a hope 
 to be admitted within the pearl gates." 
 
 His dechning strength, though he suffered little 
 pain, confirmed his belief that his end was near; 
 saying, " I am favoured with great quietness ;" and 
 he then humbly and thankfully said, " What a 
 strange sight it is for me to see!" Being asked 
 what he meant, he replied, " For me to be called 
 away, and to be quite ready." Then quickly, yet 
 gently gliding from life, he passed quietly away, 
 about midnight, the 21st of 5th month, 1808> 
 aged sixty-six. 
 
 From «' Piety Promoted," 10th part 
 
351 
 
 ABRAHAM NEALE. 
 
 Abrahajm, the son of Samuel and Sarah Neale, 
 was born at Christian's-town, county of Kildare, 
 5th of 2d month, 1756. He was one of a large 
 family, who were, in early life, deprived of a pious 
 father. His natural dispositions were amiable, 
 and, even in his childhood, his sobriety of con- 
 duct impressed his contemporaries with respect 
 for him. In passing through the path of youth 
 to manhood, he was preserved in that circumspec- 
 tion which enabled him to become a steady ex- 
 ample of humility and meekness. 
 
 In the year 1791, he married Rebecca, daugh- 
 ter of George Penrose, and widow of Joshua 
 Forbes. He was an elder in the church, and he 
 endeavoured to rule his own house well. 
 
 His life was so spent as to be a preparation for 
 the close of it; the suddenness of which was not 
 attended with dismay. On the 19th of 7th month,^ 
 1813, he was descending a ladder, with his back 
 to it; when it gave way, and he fell. He walked,^ 
 with assistance, to his brother's house, near to which 
 the circumstance had occurred. His own house 
 was not far distant; but it was not judged proper to 
 remove him, even that small space, till he should 
 have recovered the immediate effects of the fall. 
 To his own house he returned no more. He 
 
^52 ABRAHAM HE ALE. 
 
 rapidly grew worse; and all the medical aid which 
 was procured, all the aiFectionate cares of his own 
 and his brother's family, could not avert the con- 
 sequences of this severe injury. His sufferings 
 seemed to be chiefly from great difficulty of breath- 
 ing; and in this awfully-ti7ing time, he expressed 
 his entire resignation, the evidence which he felt 
 that his peace was made, that he had nothing to 
 do but to die, and his hope that he might be fa- 
 voured with patience. His dear children engaged 
 his tender solicitude : his desire for their preser- 
 vation, and that they should be brought up in 
 plainness, and messages of love to those who were 
 absent, flowed from his dying lips. 
 
 A short time before the solemn close, he en- 
 quired the time of the day. On being informed, 
 he said he did not expect to have remained so 
 long; and soon after, in a sweet, resigned frame, 
 he expired, about nineteen hours after the fall, 
 the 20th of 7th month, 1813, aged nearly fifty- 
 eight. 
 
 His widow survived him but a few years, en- 
 during frequent attacks of indisposition with much 
 Christian patience and resignation ; and departed 
 tliis life the 17th of 5th month, 1819. 
 
 Edenderrj Monthly Meeting. 
 
S5S 
 
 WILLIAM WRIGHT. 
 
 William Wright, the son of William and Mary 
 Wright, was born in Cork, 1784. He made a wise 
 choice in early hfe, devoting his talents to the 
 Giver of them; and was particularly watchful to 
 preserve his mind disentangled from business, as 
 far as was compatible with the necessary pursuit 
 of it ; and on the first day of the week he was not 
 known to open a letter on that subject. He was 
 a dutiful child, and, being deprived of his parents, 
 endeavoured to supply their loss to his brothers 
 by his affectionate cares. His gentle manners, 
 his considerate kindness, and sohd judgment, were 
 all refined and strengthened by the genuine piety 
 of his heart. 
 
 Little can be recorded of a hfe which flowed 
 in so equal a tenor, in such privacy, and which 
 so soon reached its period. Before the end of 
 his thirtieth year he was seized by a violent fever; 
 and, after a short illness, he died, in the 12th 
 month, 1813: consoling was the firm belief that 
 he was prepared for the awful change. 
 
 It was after his death that his modest virtues 
 were more fully disclosed; for his numerous acts^^ 
 of benevolence were performed with that privacy 
 expressed in the divine command: " When thou 
 d.oest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy. 
 
S54f SUSANNA HILL. 
 
 right hand doeth." The anxiety of the poor in 
 his illness, and their grief at his death, revealed 
 those deeds which he desired should remain un- 
 known. 
 
 Extract Jrom a public newspaper, 
 " Died, on Saturday last, in Duncan-street, after 
 a short but severe illness, Mr. William Wright, 
 grocer, one of the society of Friends, As one of 
 that most respectable body, he was a pattern of its 
 primitive, pure, and unrelaxed manners; which 
 were deeply displayed by him, in mildness, bene- 
 volence, and every Christian virtue. As he was 
 dutiful and affectionate in his domestic circle, so 
 he was conciHating in manners, charitable, and 
 compassionate. As a man of business, his deal- 
 ing were conducted with the strictest integrity 
 and punctuality. By his death, society has lost a 
 valuable member." 
 
 SUSANNA HILL. 
 
 Susanna Hill was the daughter of Thomas and 
 Abigail Knott, of Edenderry, and was born in 
 the year 1769. Her father died some months 
 before her birth, and left his widow in straitened 
 
SUSANNA HILL. S55 
 
 circumstances, with an infant son. A kind and 
 generous friend, then residing in that town, though 
 not alUed by kindred, received them into his fa- 
 mily, where the widow and her child experienced 
 the comforts of affectionate attention, cordial sym- 
 pathy, and genuine hospitality; and, during the 
 trying period of her confinement, the amiable 
 females of that house cherished her with sisterly 
 tenderness. They recommended her to the family 
 of one of their relations: here she fulfilled her 
 duty to much satisfaction. With them she con- 
 tinued during the remainder of her fife ; a meek 
 and lowly-minded woman, much beloved and re- 
 spected by all the family. 
 
 Her children were boarded and educated in 
 Dublin; and, when at a proper age, her son Wil- 
 liam was apprenticed to his uncle, and Susanna to 
 a mantua-maker. William (as one who knew him 
 well thus testifies) " was, from infancy, of an un- 
 commonly serious turn of mind : I know not that 
 an unbecoming word ever escaped his lips. He 
 feared every thing that was not consistent with 
 the purity of the gospel, and led a fife of the 
 greatest circumspection." His sister's disposition 
 was more volatile, and she indulged in some of 
 the gaieties of youth ; but her gentle temper and 
 amiable disposition caused her always to lend a 
 ready ear to the reproofs of instruction; and, 
 during her attendance on her mother in her last 
 illness, she was more and more convinced of the 
 necessity of taking up the cross to many things 
 
S56 SUSANNA HiLLr 
 
 in which she had hitherto indulged, and, yielding 
 to the powerful influence of vital religion, her 
 mind became " seasoned with grace." 
 
 On her mother''s death she quitted her lodg- 
 ings, and resigned her trade; believing she should 
 be more retired, and less exposed to temptation, 
 by accepting a situation which offered in a 
 Friend's family in Waterford; and, while there, 
 her growth in godliness was evident. The minis- 
 try of Thomas Scattergood, from Philadelphia, 
 had much effect on her at that time, and she felt 
 deeply the truths which he declared. She re- 
 turned to Dubhn, in 1796, and soon afterwards 
 appeared as a minister. Her conduct according 
 with her doctrine, it was not long before she was 
 acknowledged by the body of Friends, as one they 
 approved. 
 
 In 1798 her brother took a house, and Susanna 
 superintended his domestic concerns. William 
 had in his sister a careful assistant, Susanna in 
 her brother a kind protector, and each in the 
 other a sympathizing and faithful friend. Those 
 enjoy the comforts of this life most, who look be- 
 yond it for the perfection of their happiness ; and 
 the benefit of having done so is experienced, 
 when temporal: comforts are taken away, in the 
 consolation which flows from the fountain of 
 mercy. This consolation bore up her soul from 
 sinking in the sea of affliction, when the affection- 
 ate sister saw her beloved and only brother 
 breathe his last, after a struggle with a violent 
 
SUSANNA HILL. 557 
 
 fevei'} wlien they had Uved but a few months to- 
 gether. He died the last day of 1 798. The sur- 
 vivor soiTov/ed not as one without hope: he 
 whom she lamented had left a sweet savour be- 
 hind him, and the example of his life encouraged 
 her to hold on her way. 
 
 In 1801, Susanna was married to Jonathan Hill, 
 who had then three children, to whom she became 
 a tender guardian and affectionate mother. 
 
 She did not travel much from home : when she 
 did, it was with the full concurrence of her friends. 
 Her ministry was powerful, and her language was 
 emphatic and appropriate. Her whole deport- 
 ment proved the solidity of her character: she 
 was cheerful without levity, and serious without 
 austerity. Her constitution was delicate, and, for 
 three years previous to her decease, she had fre- 
 quent and severe attacks of indisposition. For 
 the last six months of her life her sufferings ap- 
 peared difficult for human nature to support; but 
 never, in her greatest extremity, did a murmur 
 escape her hps; and often, when her almost ex- 
 hausted powers seemed incapable of exertion, her 
 voice was raised in solemn supplication for herself 
 or others, in tender exhortation, in humble 
 thanksgiving, or in grateful commemoration of 
 divine goodness: frequently acknowledging that 
 she was mercifully dealt with, in having every pos- 
 sible care and attention that her husband and 
 friends could bestow; and, when she saw them 
 distressed, at being able to contribute so little to 
 
S5S SUSANNA HILL. 
 
 her relief, would gently chide, and entreat them to 
 be satisfied; saying that they did all that they 
 could do, that she must not expect a release but 
 through suffering ; and that, as all her sufferings 
 were confined to the body, they ought not to re- 
 pine: — there would be cause for lamentation, if her 
 preparation for death had been deferred to that 
 painful period; but that, through the continued 
 mercies of an Almighty Father and merciful Re- 
 deemer, she had been enabled to do her day's 
 work, while it might be called day : though she 
 had no merit of her own to trust to ; all was due 
 to her Maker, who had done ail for her, by en- 
 abhng her to subdue the evil of her heart, and 
 making her sensible that there was a possibility of 
 overcoming in this life, and of living conformably 
 to his holy requirings. 
 
 She told a friend, a short time before her death, 
 that there was no error of her life, the consequence 
 of which she had so much to deplore, as the reading 
 of pernicious books. Often, after she had thought 
 the axe had been effectually laid to the root of 
 the corrupt tree, has the recollection of some- 
 thing she had read again sprung up, and caused 
 many a bitter pang; and she left a charge with 
 this friend to warn young people against so per- 
 nicious a practice, which is such a waste of time, 
 -and so unfits the mind for serious and profitable 
 reading. She delighted in the Scriptures, and 
 they were frequently read to her during her ill- 
 aiess. She enquired whether her continuance 
 
ELIZABETH USSHER. 359 
 
 would be long, and was informed it was not likely. 
 She emphatically said, " Oh, happy, happy hour! 
 O death, I can meet thee with out-stretched 
 arms : thou hast no sting for me, nor will the grave 
 have any victory." 
 
 Her last words were, " My redemption is 
 sealed!" She died the 23d of 8th month, 1815, 
 aged forty-six. 
 
 From Testimony issued by Dublin Monthly Mieeting, and 
 
 MS. 
 
 ELIZABETH USSHER. 
 
 Elizabeth, daughter of William and Mary Paul, 
 was born in Waterford, in the year 1749. She 
 was educated according to th^ sphere of life in 
 which her parents moved, who were persons of 
 opulence. She married, in 1770, John Ussher, of 
 Cappagh, county of Waterford. Her situation 
 afforded many opportunities for indulging in those 
 vanities which often tempt the youthful mind. 
 She had an early inclination to seriousness, and 
 she felt compunction when she pursued those gra- 
 tifications w^iich are inconsistent vrith that self- 
 denial which the doctrines of our holy Pattern 
 inculcate. She was a member of the church of 
 
360 ELIZABETH USSHER. 
 
 England, and in sincerity of heart strictly oh^ 
 served the ordinances of that profession. 
 
 A series of family afflictions fell to her lot. She 
 was left a widow, and was deprived of her two 
 eldest sons, by death, on a foreign shore, far from 
 her maternal attention and kindness. Her eldest 
 daughter, a religious young woman, residing with 
 her aunt at Bristol, fell into a decline. Her resi- 
 sidence with her aunt, who was a woman seeking 
 after an acquaintance with her Maker, had a 
 happy effect upon her; and she died in great 
 peace, in 1796, her mother, and sister next in age, 
 being with her. 
 
 After her death they returned to Waterford, 
 and formed an acquaintance with some members 
 of the society of Friends. The dejection occa- 
 sioned by her recent trials, caused Elizabeth 
 Ussher to decline mixing much with company; 
 and the serious conversation and manners of her 
 new associates, were suited to the state of her 
 spirits and her religious feelings. She attended 
 their meetings, as did her three remaining daugh- 
 ters; and she and they were received into that 
 society, as members of it, in the year 1797. Her 
 daughters were of amiable dispositions, and their 
 love and fear of their Maker improved those dis- 
 positions; which won a parent's love, and pro- 
 mised to that parent a source of comfort for her 
 remaining life. She was, however, deprived of 
 those outward comforts and those hopes. The 
 lovely, dehcate plants withered beneath the blast 
 
ELIZABETH USSHER. 361 
 
 of consumption. In 1797, Lucy died, at the age 
 of twenty- one; and in 1798, Judith, at the age of 
 eighteen, and Susanna at fifteen. 
 
 The lonely mother, now bereft of all her daugh- 
 ters, bowed in submission to the dispensations of 
 her heavenly Father; her conduct evincing that 
 she was divinely succoured, and that her patience 
 and resignation were supplied from the source of 
 unfailing mercy. This she often commemorated, 
 as a special favour from Him whom she had found 
 to be a refuge in trouble; and was willing to leave 
 all, and resign all, to love and follow Him. She 
 permitted a volume of her daughters' letters to be 
 published, in the hope that their example of de- 
 votedness in the bloom of life, and their pious 
 sentiments, might benefit the rising generation. 
 
 Keenly as her affectionate heart felt the sepa- 
 tion from the tender objects of her care, she did 
 not oppress her friends with her sorrows: she 
 walked calmly on her way. Her manners were 
 marked by native courtesy, and the polish of a 
 liberal and polite education ; yet they were still 
 more remarkable for simplicity and deep humility. 
 She dreaded the approach of any thing which 
 might lead from these, in herself or her friends, 
 and her scHcitude was fervent that all might be 
 preserved on this foundation. She believed it 
 was required of her to preach the gospel, and, in 
 the year 1807, was acknowledged by the society 
 of Friends as a minister. She visited, in this capa- 
 
 R 
 
o62 ELIZABETH USSHER* 
 
 city, the meetings in London, and some other 
 meetings in England, and was exemplary in at- 
 tending those at home: also, when her health per- 
 mitted, the quarterly and yearly meetings, and 
 once united in a family-visit to Friends of Water- 
 ford. Her heart expanded with universal love; 
 and to such as she believed had in any degree 
 yielded to the humbling power of true religion, 
 it flowed in a current of earnest desire for their 
 growth and establishment therein. 
 
 During an illness of some months' continuance, 
 she appeared to be quietly waiting the disposal 
 of her divine Master, and referring all to his will; 
 desirous to be detached from every thing tending 
 to disturb that abstracted dependance on Him, 
 wherein she found her strength consisted; and 
 which centered her mind in love, and enabled her, 
 in a retrospect of the tribulations she had been 
 sustained under, the mercies received, and the 
 work that had been done in her, to say, in hum- 
 ble gratitude, " My dear Redeemer has done all 
 for me, and to Him be the glory !" 
 
 She departed this life, the 27th of 4th month, 
 1817, aged near sixty-eight. 
 
 From Testimony of Waterford Monthly Meeting. 
 
S63 
 
 ANNE GRUBB. 
 
 Anne Grubb, the daughter of Benjamin and Su- 
 sanna Grubb, of Clonmel, was born in the year 
 1759. Her own disposition uniting with parental 
 care, she became, in early life, a good example to 
 a large family, of which she was the eldest child. 
 Her mother having found her reading a book 
 which she did not approve, desired her to put it 
 away, and read such no more. The child resigned 
 the book, and ever after refrained from unprofit- 
 able reading. Thus she made an important step 
 in that path which she continued to tread; and, by 
 this obedience, her young mind was preserved 
 from that inlet to temptation. The purity of her 
 sentiments, and the serenity of her manner, denoted 
 her constant watchfulness over herself. She was 
 meek and lowly-minded, and modest to diffidence ; 
 yet resolute in doing what she believed was right, 
 in which she evinced great perseverance and dili- 
 gence. She united gentleness with gravity and 
 stability; the regularity of her habits, and the 
 disposition of her time, permitting her to attend to 
 all her duties, and all her cares, without perplexity, 
 hurry, or confusion. For many years, the super- 
 intendence of a school, estabhshed in Clonmel, for 
 die children of the poor, and supported by sub- 
 R 2 
 
364 - ANNE GRUBB. 
 
 scription, devolved upon her, and occupied much 
 of her time and thoughts, to the end of hfe; many 
 hundreds, educated in that school, having had op- 
 portunity of benefiting by her exertions on their 
 behalf. She also took an active part in the provi- 
 sion made for poor lying-in women, in the said town. 
 She went about, quietly and unweariedly, doing 
 good* Her acts of kindness, diverging to her 
 friends, neighbours, and acquaintance, in the de- 
 grees which her abilities permitted, began at home, 
 where she was the attentive nurse of the sick, the 
 tender sympathizer with the afflicted, and the wil- 
 ling assistant to all. She entered deeply into the 
 feelings of those who were impressed with religious 
 concei n : they found in her a faithful friend and 
 a wise counsellor ; for which she w^as the more 
 fully qualified, by her humility and distrust of her- 
 self. She was appointed to the station of an elder, 
 in the year 1798. 
 
 Her father, Benjamin Grubb, died in 1802; 
 (see page 327;) her sister, Susanna Moore, in 1805, 
 (see 10th part of " Piety Promoted;") and her mo- 
 ther in 1806. 
 
 These deprivations pressed upon the suscepti- 
 ble and affectionate heart of the subject of this 
 memoir, yet her spirit was preserved in patience 
 and resignation ; and, as she was wont, she sup- 
 pressed her own sorrows, to console those around 
 her. She watched, with tender solicitude, the 
 decay of another dear sister, Hannah Grubb, 
 who died in 1813; who had been, for some years, 
 
ANNE GRUBB. 365 
 
 an approved minister; had taken some journeys 
 on a religious account, and was much esteemed. 
 Soon after, Abigail, the youngest of the family, 
 also fell into a languishing state of health ; and, 
 after her peaceful death in 1816, Anne Grubb's 
 remaining unmarried sister had a strong claim on 
 her cares, having been long very delicate in health. 
 Through all these trials, she kept steadily on her 
 way, neglecting no service in which she had em- 
 barked; and, consequently, becoming more and 
 more fitted to join the just of all generations. Her 
 death was awfully sudden. On the 14th of 11th 
 month, 1818, at night, she was seized with an 
 apoplexy, after which she spoke no more, and de- 
 parted this life, between ten and eleven o'clock 
 next morning. 
 
 The esteem and love which her character ob- 
 tained amongst all ranks, were manifested by the 
 great concourse of people who attended her inter- 
 ment. 
 
 A newspaper, published in Clonmel, pays this 
 tribute to the virtues of Anne Grubb : " We sin- 
 cerely believe that this amiable woman came as 
 near to the excellence of human perfection, as 
 human nature will admit. She really appeared to 
 act as if she considered the whole power of her 
 bodily exertion, every effort of her mind, and 
 every shilling that her means afforded, as a trust 
 of Almighty benevolence ; and that the whole was 
 a debt which she owed for Him, to her suffering 
 fellow-creatures. With this feeUng, but without 
 
366 ANNE GRUBB. 
 
 the least show of obtrusiveness, no abode of 
 misery was too obscure for her research, and for 
 her bounty. With an abhorrence of ostentation, 
 no labour was too difficult, which promoted the at- 
 tainment of any end of charity. It would be idle 
 to attempt amplifying a character like hers by de- 
 tail ; for there was no work of public bounty, and 
 no individual of personal wretchedness, within her 
 reach, that was not within her care. During con- 
 siderably more than thirty years that we have had 
 opportunity of contemplating her character, it was 
 an unvaried train of benevolence, of which gentle- 
 ness and humility were the constant companions. 
 To such a mind, death could not be terrible: no 
 error uncorrected, no duty delayed, no charity 
 omitted, could agitate the last breath of that life, 
 which returned to heaven a spirit of unpolluted 
 piety and ardent virtue," 
 
 County of Tipperary Monthly Meeting. 
 
 THE END. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Ashton, John .... 
 
 Page 
 
 202 
 
 Fayle^ Thomas . . . 
 
 Page 
 
 347 
 
 
 
 Fuller, Abraham . . 
 
 111 
 
 Baker, Sarah 
 
 133 
 
 Fennel, Blessing . . 
 
 88 
 
 Balfour, Elizabeth . 
 
 244 
 
 
 
 Barcroft, John .... 
 
 147 
 
 Gee, Jane 
 
 198 
 
 Barnes, Jonathan . . 
 
 241 
 
 Gill, Joseph 
 
 204 
 
 Bevvley, Ellen .... 
 Bevvley, Mungo . . . 
 Bewley, Thomas . . , 
 Bevvley, George . . . 
 Braddock, Thomas . 
 
 185 
 229 
 230 
 231 
 186 
 
 Gough, James . .. . 
 Gough, John .... 
 Gray, William .... 
 Greer, Mary . ... 
 Greenwood, J. and A 
 
 267 
 289 
 190 
 227 
 113 
 
 Burnyeat, John . . . 
 
 97 
 
 Gregson, George . . 
 Grubb, Anne ..... 
 
 96 
 
 252 
 
 Carleton, Thomas . 
 
 92 
 
 Grubb, Benjamin . . 
 
 327 
 
 Chambers, John . . . 
 
 182 
 
 Grubbj Anne .... 
 
 363 
 
 Chamberlain, Eliza . 
 
 329 
 
 
 
 Clarke, Elizabeth . . 
 
 90 
 
 Hart, Anne 
 
 243 
 
 Clibborn, John .... 
 
 115 
 
 Heritage, Elizabeth 
 
 131 
 
 Conran, Louisa .... 
 
 341 
 
 Hill, Susanna . . . , 
 
 354 
 
 Cuppage, Robert . . 
 Dobbs, John 
 
 92 
 191 
 
 Hoare, Margaret . . 
 Hoope, Robert . . . . 
 Howell, Charles . . . 
 
 138 
 139 
 200 
 
 Doyle, James .... 
 
 263 
 
 , 
 
 
 Edmundson, William 1 
 EJly, Deborah .^. 88 
 
 In man, Joseph . . . . 
 Jacob, Elizabeth . . 
 
 322 
 197 
 
 Exham, John 
 
 141 
 
 Knowles, James . . . 
 
 121 
 
INDEX. 
 
 
 Page 
 
 
 Page 
 
 Lightfoot, Susanna . 278 
 
 Russel, Gregory ,, 
 
 184^ 
 
 
 
 Rutty, John 
 
 261 
 
 Mitchell, Susanna . . 78 
 
 
 
 Morris, William. 
 
 .. 91 
 
 Sandham, Robert . . 
 
 79 
 
 Moore, Mary[ . . , 
 
 .. 326 
 
 Sandham, Deborah 
 
 85 
 
 
 
 Seaton, Alexander . 
 
 144 
 
 Neale, Samuel . . 
 
 .. 291 
 
 Sharp, Anthony . . . 
 
 119 
 
 Neale, Mary 
 
 .. 298 
 
 Sproule, William . . 
 
 239 
 
 Neale, Abraham 
 
 .. 351 
 
 
 
 Newland, George . . 123 
 
 Watson, John .... 
 
 125 
 
 Newland, Sarah 
 
 .. 306 
 
 Watson, Samuel . . 
 
 246 
 
 
 
 Watson, William . . 
 
 134 
 
 Pike, Joseph . . . 
 
 .. 169 
 
 Watson, Dorothy. . 
 
 287 
 
 Pike, Elizabeth 
 
 . . . 308 
 
 Waring, Joseph , . . 
 
 228 
 
 Poole, Richard . . 
 
 .. 112 
 
 Whiddon, Elizabeth 
 
 110 
 
 Poole, Joseph . 
 
 ... 276 
 
 Wight, Thomas . . . 
 
 154 
 
 Poole, Joseph . 
 
 ... 283 
 
 Wilson, Thomas . . 
 
 158 
 
 Poole, Joseph . 
 
 .. 324 
 
 Williams, Joseph . . 
 
 343 
 
 Philips, Hannah 
 
 .. 157 
 
 Wright, Anne . . • • 
 
 51 
 
 
 
 Wright, William . . 
 
 353 
 
 Richardson, Rot 
 
 )ert 242 
 
 
 
 Ridgway,Mary. 
 
 ... 388 
 
 Ussher, Elizabeth . . 
 
 359 
 
 Rooke, George , 
 
 ... 212 
 
 Van Hassen, G. . . 
 
 257 
 
 Printed hy Harvey, Barton, S^ Co. 
 Gracechurck^Street, London. 
 
938,96