642 RFIENDS’

REVIEW.

 

dried up and lost, that at times I seemed desti-
tute of the least sensation of it. Yet I was
not sensible of having committed any particular
offence, or of condemnation within myself, ex-
cept that in my trials I had looked too much
out with an eye of reason, and fallen short of
a full trust and faith in Providence, whose
mercy and care I had so often experienced.
And now, at the writing of this, I may say, I
have not seen the cause of this trying dispensa-
tion other than to effect the work of the fur-
nace, in consuming and purifying from the
dross of self, which sticks exceedingly close to
wayward man, however religious he may be,
and to drive more closely home to the principle
we profess to the world, to the pure spirit of
Jesus Christ, which is able to .preserve im per-
fect peace, through the greatest convulsions
and terrors the powers of earth can ever pro-
duce.

‘¢‘T have been the more particular in this re-
lation, my dear children, for your sakes, that,
if you or any of you should so regard your own
mercies as to set your faces Zionward, neither
heights nor depths, principalities nor powers,
things present nor what may be permitted to
come, shall ever separate you from the love of
God which is in Christ Jesus, and that you may
not be discouraged when trials and probations
come. It is the furnace which must purify and
fit for the kingdom, and without it none can
enter.

‘¢ Tt was in this season, when self was indeed
laid in the dust, and of no reputation, willing
to be accounted a fool for his sake, who, I
clearly saw, only could deliver out of this hor-
rible pit, I often had to pour forth my com-
plaints, breathing to him with the greatest
fervor of soul: anything, O Lord, anything of
thy requiring I am willing to submit to, if it
may but once more procure the smiles of thy
' gountenance. It was then, in the winter of
1781, that I frequently had a glimpse of Long
Island and New England Yearly Meetings, at-
tended with a sweetness I had of late been
much a stranger to; which I kept to myself,
concluding, if at the spring meeting I should
feel sufficient clearness and strength, I would
give in my name to attend them. But, when
the meeting came, I seemed to lose sight of the
prospect. Thus it continued in the several
sittings of the Select Meeting until the last,
to which I went very heavy ; the prospect here-
tofore so clear, now seemed gone, and it looked
unsafe to mention it, whilst I yet felt a fear to
omit it. My mind settled into a calm with this
conclusion: that if it did not revive during thé
sitting, I should think myself excused. John
Lloyd and Warner Mifflin gave in their names
to attend Long Island Yearly Meeting. My
former prospect then very suddenly revived
with a strength that enabled me to say, that I
felt a freedom, in much weakness? to inform

 

Friends that, if health permitted and company
offered, I had a desire to attend Long Island
and Rhode Island Yearly Meetings. Now the
reasoner nearly overwhelmed me, presenting
that in my feeble health I should have thought
a single day’s ride imprudent, how then was it
possible to perform such a journey? I, a private
Friend, without a companion, and travelling
being so dangerous: should I be robbed and
my horse taken from me, (which was common
in some parts that I must pass,) what would be-
come of me in my weakly state? But, above
all, my inward poverty and leanness were such
that I exceedingly feared I should bring some
blemish on the profession of truth. So that [
concluded, if my Friends could be sensible of
my situation, they would not suffer me to go
abroad. In the Fourth month, however, I men-
tioned it to our Monthly Meeting, requesting a
minute, which was freely given; and having
conferred with John Lloyd, we agreed to go
together to Long Island. I thought it most
likely I should never return, and therefore
settled my outward affairs as though I were
taking a final adieu; and, on the 10th of Fifth
month, I left home, my son-in-law, John Tatum,
accompanying me to Burlington, where I staid
two days with my eldest daughter, Martha
Allinson, and on the 12th her husband went
with me to Stony Brook, where, next day at
meeting, ] met my companion, John Lloyd. It
was a sweet, confirming meeting to me. After
lodging at Joseph Horner’s we rode, on the 14th
to Plainfield, aiming to avoid as much as might
be the American lines, where soldiers were sta-
tioned. Here we were informed that Warner
Mifflin and George Churchman were waiting for
us at Rahway, where we joined them, and
lodged at Joseph Shotwell’s. They had de-
termined to go to Elizabethtown, where the
commanding officer lay, and endeavor to obtain
permission to pass the usual way to New York.
My companions approved of this, but it ap-
peared very dark and unpleasant to me. I told
them it was vain to expect such permission: the
officer dare not give it: we might, indeed, cast
ourselves into the lion’s mouth, and our journey
be stopped. In the morning we proceeded to
a Friend’s house in that town, and Warner
Mifflin and two other Friends went to the officer.
After waiting about two hours, the two Friends
returned, and Warner was a prisoner and they
were in search of a justice to administer the
test to him. It now appeared likely we should
soon be in the same situation; but in another
hour Warner returned and told us they could
not meet with a justice, and had therefore dis-
charged him, with orders that we should all
leave the town within two hours. He advised
us to return back. After a consultation whether
to proceed in the way that was open, or return
to Rahway and try to get within the British
lines without leave, I told them I could not con-