Part 7

This gave her a handle to take hold of him by; and having had an ancient acquaintance with him, and he having always had a high opinion of and respect for her, she, who was a woman of great wisdom, of ready speech, and of a well-resolved spirit, did press so close upon him with this home argument, that he was utterly at a loss how to defend himself.

After dinner next day, when they were ready to take coach to return home, she desired my father that, since my company was so little acceptable to him, he would give me leave to go and spend some time with them, where I should be sure to be welcome.

He was very unwilling I should go, and made many objections against it, all which she answered and removed so clearly, that not finding what excuse further to allege, he at length left it to me, and I soon turned the scale for going.

We were come to the coach-side before this was concluded on, and I was ready to step in, when one of my sisters privately put my father in mind that I had never a hat on. That somewhat startled him, for he did not think it fit I should go from home (and that so far and to stay abroad) without a hat. Wherefore he whispered to her to fetch me a hat, and he entertained them with some discourse in the meantime. But as soon as he saw the hat coning he would not stay till it came, lest I should put it on before him, but breaking off his discourse abruptly, took his leave of them, and hastened in before the hat was brought to me.

I had not one penny of money about me, nor indeed elsewhere; for my father, so soon as he saw that I would be a Quaker, took from me both what money I had and everything of value, or that would have made money, as some plate, buttons, rings, &c., pretending that he would keep them for me till I came to myself again, lest I should destroy them.

But as I had no money, so being among my friends I had no need of any, nor ever hankered after it; though once upon a particular occasion I had liked to have wanted it. The case was this:

I had been at Reading, and set out from thence on the first day of the week, in the morning, intending to reach (as in point of time I well might) Isaac Penington’s, where the meeting was to be that day; but when I came to Maidenhead, a thoroughfare town on the way, I was stopped by the watch for riding on that day.

The watchman, laying hold on the bridle, told me I must go with him to the constable; and accordingly I, making no resistance, suffered him to lead my horse to the constable’s door. When we were come there the constable told me I must go before the warden, who was the chief officer of that town, and bade the watchman bring me on, himself walking before.

Being come to the warden’s door, the constable knocked, and desired to speak with Mr. Warden. He thereupon quickly coming to the door the constable said: “Sir, I have brought a man here to you whom the watch took riding through the town.” The warden was a budge old man; and I looked somewhat big too, having a good gelding under me, and a good riding-coat on my back, both which my friend Isaac Penington had kindly accommodated me with for that journey.

The warden therefore taking me to be (as the saying is) somebody, put off his hat and made a low congee to me; but when he saw that I sat still, and neither bowed to him nor moved my hat, he gave a start, and said to the constable: “You said you had brought a man, but he don’t behave like a man.”

I sat still upon my horse and said not a word, but kept my mind retired to the Lord, waiting to see what this would come to.

The warden then began to examine me, asking me whence I came and whither I was going; I told him I came from Reading and was going to Chalfont. He asked me why I did travel on that day; I told him I did not know that it would give any offence barely to ride or to walk on that day, so long as I did not carry or drive any carriage or horses laden with burthens. “Why,” said he, “if your business was urgent, did you not take a pass from the mayor of Reading?”—“Because,” replied I, “I did not know nor think I should have needed one.”—“Well,” said he, “I will not talk with you now, because it is time to go to church, but I will examine you further anon.” And turning to the constable, “Have him,” said he, “to an inn, and bring him before me after dinner.”

The naming of an inn put me in mind that such public-houses were places of expense, and I knew I had no money to defray it; wherefore I said to the warden: “Before thou sendest me to an inn, which may occasion some expense, I think it needful to acquaint thee that I have no money.”

At that the warden started again, and turning quickly upon me, said: “How! no money! How can that be? You don’t look like a man that has no money.”—“However I look,” said I, “I tell thee the truth, that I have no money; and I tell it to forewarn thee, that thou mayest not bring any charge upon the town.”—“I wonder,” said he, “what art you have got, that you can travel without money; you can do more, I assure you, than I can.”

I making no answer, he went on and said: “Well, well! but if you have no money, you have a good horse under you, and we can distrain him for the charge.”—“But,” said I, “the horse is not mine.”—“No,” said he; “but you have a good coat on your back, and that I hope is your own.”—“No,” said I, “but it is not, for I borrowed both the horse and the coat.”

With that the warden, holding up his hands and smiling, said: “Bless me! I never met with such a man as you are before. What! were you set out by the parish?” Then turning to the constable, he said: “Have him to the Greyhound, and bid the people be civil to him.” Accordingly, to the Greyhound I was led, my horse set up, and I put into a large room, and some account, I suppose, given of me to the people of the house.

This was new work to me, and what the issue of it would be I could not foresee; but being left there alone, I sat down, and retired in spirit to the Lord, in whom alone my strength and safety were, and begged support of Him; even that He would be pleased to give me wisdom and words to answer the warden when I should come to be examined again before him.

After some time, having pen, ink, and paper about me, I set myself to write what I thought might be proper, if occasion served, to give the warden; and while I was writing, the master of the house, being come home from his worship, sent the tapster to me to invite me to dine with him. I bid him tell his master that I had not any money to pay for my dinner. He sent the man again to tell me I should be welcome to dine with him though I had no money. I desired him to tell his master “that I was very sensible of his civility and kindness in so courteously inviting me to his table, but I had not freedom to eat of his meat unless I could have paid for it.” So he went on with his dinner, and I with my writing.

But before I had finished what was on my mind to write, the constable came again, bringing with him his fellow-constable. This was a brisk genteel young man, a shopkeeper in the town, whose name was Cherry. They saluted me very civilly, and told me they were come to have me before the warden. This put an end to my writing, which I put into my pocket, and went along with them.

Being come to the warden’s, he asked me again the same questions he had asked me before; to which I gave him the like answers. Then he told me the penalty I had incurred, which he said was either to pay so much money or lie so many hours in the stocks, and asked me which I would choose; I replied, “I shall not choose either. And,” said I, “I have told thee already that I have no money; though if I had, I could not so far acknowledge myself an offender as to pay any. But as to lying in the stocks, I am in thy power, to do unto me what it shall please the Lord to suffer thee.”

When he heard that he paused awhile, and then told me, “He considered that I was but a young man, and might not perhaps understand the danger I had brought myself into, and therefore he would not use the severity of the law upon me; but, in hopes that I would be wiser hereafter, he would pass by this offence and discharge me.”

Then putting on a countenance of the greatest gravity, he said to me: “But, young man, I would have you know that you have not only broken the law of the land, but the law of God also; and therefore you ought to ask His forgiveness, for you have highly offended Him.”—“That,” said I, “I would most willingly do if I were sensible that in this case I had offended Him by breaking any law of His.”

“Why,” said he, “do you question that?”—“Yes truly,” said I; “for I do not know that any law of God doth forbid me to ride on this day.”

“No!” said he: “that’s strange. Where, I wonder, was you bred? You can read, can’t you?”—“Yes,” said I, “that I can.”—“Don’t you then read,” said he, “the commandment, ‘Remember the Sabbath-day to keep it holy. Six days shalt thou labour and do all thy work; but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord; in it thou shalt not do any work.’”—“Yes,” replied I, “I have both read it often, and remember it very well. But that command was given to the Jews, not to Christians; and this is not that day, for that was the seventh day, but this is the first.”—“How,” said he, “do you know the days of the week no better? You had need then be better taught.”

Here the younger constable, whose name was Cherry, interposing, said: “Mr. Warden, the gentleman is in the right as to that, for this is the first day of the week, and not the seventh.”

This the old warden took in dudgeon, and looking severely on the constable, said: “What! do you take upon you to teach me? I’ll have you know I will not be taught by you.”—“As you please for that, sir,” said the constable; “but I am sure you are mistaken in this point; for Saturday I know is the seventh day, and you know yesterday was Saturday.”

This made the warden hot and testy, and put him almost out of all patience, so that I feared it would have come to a downright quarrel betwixt them, for both were confident and neither would yield; and so earnestly were they engaged in the contest, that there was no room for me to put in a word between them.

At length the old man, having talked himself out of wind, stood still awhile as it were to take breath, and then bethinking himself of me, he turned to me and said: “You are discharged, and may take your liberty to go about your occasions.”—“But,” said I, “I desire my horse may be discharged too, else I know not how to go.”—“Ay, ay,” said he, “you shall have your horse;” and turning to the other constable, who had not offended him, he said: “Go, see that his horse be delivered to him.”