Chapter IV: Part 4

25 Dec^{r.}, or Christmas day, 1793, Mr. T. M. and Mr. S. was taken from us, and put to a town caled Carhay,[67] aboute thirty miles from Morlaix, and there they joined Mr. and Mrs. Maccu^{h.}; all the rest of us was moved to another Jen^{t.} house, a few dors off, where we had more room, etc., Mr. C. and me still left together. The first thing I allwayse lookt for first was a place to go in secret, and my friend C. would allwayse look out for a place for himself and me to sleep in. I found a nice _little_ place in the garat, with sume old mats and other things I so inclosed, that it would just hold me to my knees, with my feet out of sight, where I might stay so long as I pleased, and no person distorb me. This was a blessed chainge again. I sleept in a room with ten or twelve gent^{m.}, went to bed at ten o'clock, got up in the morning at five, _spent an_ hour to myself, and at six went down stairs, _and sat by_ the fire with the old men that garded _the house_. To read, etc., until about half past seven or eight, when I should retire to my little garat until nine, when I should come down, make my bed, and run or walk in a large room until ten, and then retire again to my garat until one o'clock, when I was caled to dinnar. After dinnar, aboute two, I retired to my garat and stay there until half past three, come down and run in the room until four, then retire, and stay there until aboute seven or eight, stay down aboute half hour, and then pass in the garat until ten, bed time. There was a small window in the garat aboute a foot square, without glass, but a leef to shut and open, so that in the daytime could see to read by it, but at night I seat without any light, the days nearley the same length as they are in England. At that time I begun to, what I call, to examen myself, which time was from half past six until aboute nearley eight in the evning--about the same time that the many thousands of methodists offered up their evning sacrifise in England--and begin first to see the many wonderfull delivrances the Lord had wrought for me--how I have been presarved so many times from drowning and other dangars, then how I was convinced of sin, how I cal'd for mercy, what tryals and temptations when I was seeking the Lord, how and when I receved the Comfarter, what tryals, temptations, when I was in a justified state, what [...], what fears, what joys and delights in all plases I have [...] since I know the goodness of God; how many times I prayed in secret in evry place, what self denial I walked in, and to conclude, sume up the whole, saying, Lord, how is it with me now; am I growing in grace or loosing of ground? This garat was very cold indeed to the body, so that my hands was swollen very large with chilblins, sitting so many hours in the cold without fire.

Jan^{y.} 1794, aboute the beginning of the year, Mr. C. got me to sleep with him in his little room and one French jen^{t.} This was again a comfartable chainge; there we was together again, like to great k_ings_. Aboute the latar end of this month, I was desired by C. to speak to aboute twenty whemen caled nuns, being presnars in the same house. I went with fear and trembling. They received me in a very _pleasant_ manner, drew a chear,[68] asked me to seat down. _One of them, an_ old Lady, the mother Confessor, asked _me, was_ I ever baptised. I answerd, "Yes." "In what manner?" I answerd, "I was marked with the sign of the Cross in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Gost." I saw sume thing very plasant upon all their countnance, as it was the same way they themselvs was baptised. They asked me a number of many fullish questions, that I was obliged to mustar all the little French I could rise, as I could understand and speak any thing aboute the coman things of this life far better than the spiritual things, having no person to converce with aboute spiritual things. However, they keept me with them I suppose aboute half hour, still asking me questions, but at laste asked me to kiss the Cross. I refused. They tried me again and again. I told them I could not, I dare not do it. So at laste took my leave of them, and so came off rejoicing like a king. They are a loving people, and the nicest whemen I ever saw in France. I doubt not but many of them lives according to the light that is given them. They petted me very much, and told my friend afterward that if he could prevail upon me to turn to their Religion, I should be a good man. They thought I was earnestly crying for mercy, but was an entire strainger to the way of mercy. They allwayse looked upon me afterward with the love of pity, _and some_ of them was fond to converse with me, [...] found it profitable, they after caled [...] the soletude, I spent so much time to myself. I think it was the 11 or 12 of Feb^{y.} '94, I seat apart to prayer and fasting on a particular occasion for thirty hours without eating or drinking. At the 19 and 20 of the same month, I seat apart in prayer and fasting to ask of the Lord sevral favours for self and friends, with thanks for past mercys, forty-eight hours without eating or drinkin. Oh, what a blessed time I had. The 19 and 20 of April, 1794, I seat apart in prayer and fasting for forty-eight hours without eating or drinking. I trust I shall ever remember these times wilst I am in time. Oh, how my poor soul was delighted in God my Saviour. To the end of this time I went to run in the room as usual, willing to know whether I was weaker or not, so that I found I could run strong as ever I could; and it was shorley to me _a great_ wonder, as I took no breakfast for aboute six months _before_ then, and I took suppar sume times two, and sume times _three times_ a week, and my suppar I supose did not exceed two ounces of bread, without tea, water, or anything to drink, and my dinnar very little. I was still suplied with dinnar from the tavern. Mr. C., and aboute six or eight French gen^{t.}, dined together. I could not keep all this a secret from my friend, so he took me to reason sevral times, saying, "You'l destroy the body," and would intice me like a child to eate, and allways took the pains to call me to dinnar. So _I thought_ it was reason what he said, and I thought I was _going to_ too great extremes, so I thought for the time to _come I would_ go without breakfast and suppar as usual, _and fast_ for thirty hours once month, for the time to come. I did not know then at that time I was thankfull or humble, but even now, I know I was as less then nothing in the sight of God and all men. I know I was unworthy of the floor I walked on, and vilest of the vile in my own eyes. I never saw my short comings more clearer than I did in them days. Oh, how often I was crying out against my dryness and lasiness of soul, my littleness of love, etc. Sume times, when I heard the clock strike, I uste to rejoice, saying, "Lord, one hour nearer to Eternety," the same time mourn before God I did not spend it more to his glory. I think every moment of time was far more preshas then fine gold. Aboute this time there was numbers of gen^{t.} and lades _taken_ away to Brest that I parsnally know, and their _heads_ chopt off with the gulenteen[69] with a very little notice. I don't know I ever had a doubt of my own life, but I have had many of Mr. M., and thought many times, should he be condemed to die, I would gladly die in his steed if Providence would have it. I knew he had much enimies, and why, because he was a libral man and a man of powar, and did do much good, and them he did do most good to was his greatest enimyes, and it was _such men_ as him in genral sufferd moste. Ag_ain_ [...] if he was spared, he was worth his _place in_ creation, be helpful to others as well as his own famely. As for me, I thought I should never be found wanting with any person in the world. I know my child at home would be taken care of, so it was a mattar of very little defrance to me where the body was left, knowing I had a house not made with hands, eternal in the Heavens. I staid there until the 15 June, 1794, when the house was cleared of all the presnors, and then put to a convent a little out of Town, that was made a prison, caled the Calemaleets,[70] where there was aboute 270 men and whimen, the house very full of people. We arived there aboute nine in the morning, and as Mr. C. and me was shifting aboute the house seeing for a place, standing in the _room_ talking together, he was taken with a fit and fell _as_ dead in my arms. Soon others came to my assistance, _and took_ him out in the yard as dead. It was very seldem _that I_ shed tears, but then I did plentefully, as I was in m_ind_ he was no more; but the language of my heart was _still_ [...] _may_ thy will be done, come life or death, take life _and all_ away, good is the will of the Lord. But praised _be the Lord for_ ever, in the course of an hour he revived, and _was put to_ bed, so that in the course of sume time after _he recovered_. In the garden I seat myself under a tree and _thought of H_agar's words, "Thou, God, seest me." I had a sweet time there until _I was disturbed_ by two young _men_ that came to seat by _me_ [...] with a great m_errime_nt and ladies, and _soon after_ the Lord provided a place for me under the stairs. It was a large stone stairs going down to a under-ground seller. In the daytime I could see a small glimring light, but never so light as to see to read. This was a blessed place again, indeed, where I was out of sight and hearing of all men. Mr. C. got part of a room in the garat, with a young jen^{t.}, whose name was Morrow. The first night I made my bed in the passage close by his door. Friend C. could not bear to see me there. The next morning him, with sume young jen^{t.}, got carpentar's tools and timber, turned to and divided the room in two, so took me in with him again, and there we was again together like two great kings. We could no longer have our food from the tavarn, the distance being too far [...] The good lady that I lodged and boarded with in St. _Paul's_ was brought to the same preson, and a young _gentleman_ with her, her brother son, to which she _had_ d^{r.} C. and me with her to eate. She had her per_vision_ sent from her own house. Blessed be God [...] for such dear Friends. In the course of two _or three_ days I found my strength much failed me. _I had_ more room to walk in than I had before, _and_ long _stairs_ to go up and down over. Mr. C. _discovered_ it, and took me again to reason, saying, "_You are_ of the earth, and the body must be _helped with things_ of the earth; if you continue so, you'll _hurt yourself_, and if you do not _feel_ any ill efects _now_ [...] _you_ shorley will if _you_ lives untel you are old." I thought it was quite reason that he preached to me. I thought I was going too far with it, and that Satan had some hand in it; so after he watched me like a child, and if I was not presant at the time of meals, he would come and fetch me, and I must go with him, he would not be denied. Praise be to God that I ever saw his face, he was allwayse more mindfull of me than he was of himself; so I continued to take breakfast for eight or nine days and then left it off again, and I unely staid without suppar twice a week. This place was again a blessed chainge indeed. We had a large garden to walk in, from six in the morning untel seven in the evning, I suppose not less than three acres of ground, with fine gravel walks in it and sume apple trees, etc., so I was like a bird left out of a cage. I suppose I had not sung aloud to be heard with[71] man for many months before. I _was_ allways surounded with[71] man, but then I _used to go_ out with my book in my pocket, seat mys_elf under_ a tree, and if I could not see any person, sing _so loud_, I suppose I might be heard for a mile off. Oh, _how my_ soul would be delighted in the God of my sa_lvation_. I remember one day, as I was seating under _a tree_, three or four ladies came to me, and asked me _to sing. I begged_ to be excused. They asked me again and again, so _as I was afraid_ to give an ofence I sung two or three versis [...] _with_ a loud voice. They thanked me in a very p_leasant manner_, and went away quite pleased. I think I spent my time _to myself much_ the same as I did in Roscoff, before _I was taken_ as a presonar. _I was_ allwayse mindfull of my little cornar under the stears. I went to bed at ten o'clock, and got up in the morning at four. All the people still full of friendship to me; but I keept myself still to myself as much as posable, without giving an ofence. There was there amongst the whole number aboute sixty nuns, one of whom I conversed with more then all the rest; seldom miss a day, if she saw me, but what she would have sume thing to say unto me. But I had not French enough to enter into any depth of Religion, but I never heard one sound of persuasion from her to turn to her Religion. Once I remembered she asked me, saying, "Carter, did not you feel your self very sorry when you was first convinced of sin?" or sume thing to the same purpas. I was struck with wondar where she got that from. I think I may safely say she was a burning and a shining light. She had small suplys often from _her_ [...] _fat_her's house, and well she had it often as it was _possible. It was al_wayse in her powar to govern her own mind. _Every day_ she would give allmoste all she had to the poor, _or to any_ person she thought that wanted; lived allmoste _entirely on_ bread and water herself. She have often told friend _C._, "Do not leave Carter want any thing, but speak _to me_." I have often thought that she would allmoste _tear ou_t her eyes to do me good, and I have often thought _that she ha_d not the least doubt but what I was built _for a Catholi_ck. I have thought then, the same as I think _now, that if I_ am faithfull untel death, and she cont_inued in the sa_me way, that she and me, with many _more that_ I saw there, shall meet at God's right hand, where we shall sing louder and sweeter that ever I sung in that gardon. May the Lord grant it. She was so nice, butifull a young lady as I think the sun could shine on; I suppose aboute 26 or 27 years old. Her father was a nobleman of a large income, her mother, a sistar to the great, rich Bishop of St. Paul's, and him, as I have heard, for all his incom, could scarsely keep a goode sute of clothes aboute him--it was busy all[72] for the poor. I think she was the pictar of humility in all her deportment. I could not help to admire her, as I was in the same house, or housas, for, as I think, nearly six months.

Well, then, I continued to go on in the same manner as did before, minding the same things, and using the same language as I did in every chainge or place; this is the right place that God _would_ have me be in, without one mormoring _thought_, or the leaste desire to be anywhere else, _good_ is the will of the Lord, happy still from _moment_ to moment. It was aboute the later end [...] it was imprest upon my mind to make [...], as there was sume country men there tha_t was doing_ it, and after, with prayer and suplication, _I made my_ request known unto God, I begun to wo_rk. I went_ to bed still at ten, roase at three in the m_orning, at_ four went to work until nine, pass a h_our in prayer under_ the stairs, work until half past eleven, _and then dinner_; after dinner pass a half hour u_nder the stairs_, and work untel four, pass a half h_our again in prayer_, work until half past six; at seven _we had supper_. The remainder of the evning spend in praying, walking, reading, thinking, &c. So as the days shortend I could read but very little, nither walk in the garden, but only on the Lord's day. But praise be unto God, he was ever with me in a powarfull manner, sume times when the walks was allmoste full of jent and lades, pass through them all, as if allmoste there was no soul there but God and me only. That gardon was as the gardon of Edon to my soul. Then, in the morning, I spent nearely one hour to my self, and gitt at work as soon as I could see, minding [...] the same stops under the stairs, and work as _long as_ I could see in the evning. So as the weather _got_ coulder, I got myself to work in a large _Room_, I suppose not less than 50 feet one way, and _I supos_e aboute 30 the other; it was not finished, _neither p_lastard nor floored; what was under foot was _the ground_, the top of the window just to the level of _the roof_; and after suppar, evry evning, I passed my _time there_ until bed time. I had a stool to seat un at _meals_, and in the evnings seat on my stool, then _to_ pray, &c.; sume times, without[73] it was _moonlight, stu_mble up again[74] the walls, as I had _no light; but_ praise be to God for ever, for all it was so cold, a solatry place, it was a paradice to my soul, it was sume thing like a hermitage indeed. I was out of sight and hearing of all men and things. So just aboute that the clock struck ten, my dear friend C. and me used to meet just at the same time in our little, dark cornar of our lodging room as cheerfull as two kings. I think it was in the medle of Dec^{r.} 1794, the good ladey and her brother's son was removed from us and put to St. Paul's, into the prison that I was first put in. It was a day of mourning and lamentation with her, indeed, to leave her two children behind her, and it was a time of tryal to me likewayse, as she was nearly so natural as a mother. But still the language of my heart was as usual--good is the will of the Lord. She t_ook_ care to send us our provisan from her _own_ house, so still dear C. and me was together li_ke_ [...]. Aboute this time I had an account that Mr. and Mrs. _Maccullock_ was labrated out of preson,[75] and they and all their _family were_ then at Mr. Diott's, in Morlaix. It was a day of rejoicing _to_ me, indeed, to think that the Lord was so graicous _to bring_ us so near together again. And in the course _of a few_ weeks they had liberty to come to see dear C. and _me in prison. We_ shorley had a happy meeting together, as w_e had not seen_ each other for aboute fifteen months, they receved _me as their_ own child, and I them as my father and mother. _Praise God_ for so many dear friends.

Aboute the 10 _Jan_^{y.} 1795, Mr. Diott _sent for_ me to come to dine with him. I went with much fear and trembling, as it was ever a great cross to me to be with my great superiers, and so in every place I moved at a solam awe of the presance of God resting upon me with a fear to ofend him. There I meet with Mr. and Mrs. M., with all their loving famely, and through the tender mercy of God, after all our tryals and sufferings, being separated to nearley sixteen months from each other, escaped, through mercy, all the lyons in France, not one hair of our heads diminished. We staid there until evning, when Mr. Diot said, "I will in the course of a few days gitt you out of preson and you shall boath come to live at my house." We thanked him, wished good night, and arived at home with our gard aboute seven. So the 23 Jany. 1795, in the morning, we was boath librated. I went to Mr. Diot's, Mr. C. went with Mr. Morrow in the same town. Still pervision at that time _ver_y scarce to be had, the inhabitants of the town had all their _provisions_ sarved out every day according to their famely. _Without_ we had money we should not be able to gett board _on any_ account. I was received _into t_hat famely as a king, treated as if I had been a noble_man, and_ being the laste strainger was placed at the head of _the table_, where I begged to be excused again and again, but _could not_ prevail. But to the end of six or seven days I shifted _to the other_ end, where I thought I was more in my place. _I thought_ it then, as I have many times since, a piece of _bread be_hind the kitchen door was more suitable for me. _Praise be_ to God, here was a chainge again indeed. _From_ a stable to a parlar, and from a parlar to a [...]. _I eat_ mostimes my three meals, _the_n for fear to be not_iced, I always eat_ sparingly. I think I can say I allwayse _rose up with a_ sharper apetite then I had when I sat down. I lodged in a large house to myself next dore to Mr. Diot's, where I had no person to desturb me day nor night. This was a blessed chainge again, it was just the place I would wish to be in. I was there aboute two or three weeks, when I saw sume things wanting to be done aboute two vessels that was laid up before my door, belonging to Mr. Diot. I spoak of it to Mr. Peter Diot, and went to work, and when the season sarved, I washed the decks morning and evening; and as I had a chest of carpentar's tools in the same room with me, made boats' oars, ruddars, painted names in the starn of the small boats, etc.; that I was mostly imployed all the week. But my wark not hard, as I was my own master, and I did it all volentary. And on the Sabbath day I went out of town evry morning and afternoon when the weather was _fair_ in sume solatry place to read, pray, sing, and _think_, as I did in other places. I think it was aboute _the_ midle of March 1795, Mr. M. was taken sick with _fever_ and agas, and in the beginning of May 1795 went _away_ with all his famely, leaving only the two ma_idens and_ me behind him. It was the 10 or 12 of Ju_ne that_ I went to S^{t.} Paul's and Roscoff to see my old f_riends, where_ I was received like a king, and with[76] sum_e people_ I never had but very little acquaintance _with. I had_ my time to my self as usual, only at [...] meals. I found the same solatry place _as before_, where I was brought to examine _myself_ whether I was growing in grace or _not_ [...] so I had a bl_essed_ t_ime_. I returned back again to Morlaix aboute the 26 or 27 June, 1795, like a jiant refreshed with new wine. There I was received again with that loving family with the greatest afection. Praise be unto God for so many dear friends. It was nearley aboute this time I went with aboute a half a score men to put a boat of Mr. Diot's in a large building that was before a tobacko manefactry in the shade, and after I had got the boat to the place I wanted, I went from the people to gett a cornar to myself to pray, and looking aboute I saw a large scales and weights close by me. I thought as no person saw me I would way myself, and all the weight my weight was 6 score and 15 pound.[77] I was set to _won_der where all my weight was gone, as I did for _many_ years before way 10 score, and when I came _home_ I tried un a waistcoat that I had not worn for _several_ years before, and I found it too big for me, _may_ be upon the round nine inches, and I never know in all these years no not _one single day_ of sickness. I think it was the 10 July, 1795, Capt^{n.} [...] _the_ Capt^{n.} of a frigat that was taken, and Mr. Moress [...] _of_ the "Elazander" man-of-mar, came _to Morlaix in_ order to gett a passage to England in a _vessel_, who dined and supped at Mr. Diot's. _They_ made very free with me all _the same as if I_ was their equal, and one day, by a friend, desired me to call at their lodging, they wanted to speak with me. I went with fear and trembling, and the business was as follows. They said, "Mr. C., we have been talking about you, as you have been here so long a prisnor, wearing your old clothes out, your time passing away, earning nothing. We think you may go with us in safety. Put your clothes on board the evning before we sail, gett on board in the night, you'l never be inquired after, nither found wanting." I answerd to this purpas: "Jen^{t.}, I thank you kindly, but first you'l give me leave to inform you I was brought out of prison upon Mr. Diot's interest, tho' he never sined any paper, nither gave his word that I should continue in the country. Notwithstanding that, in these critical times, if I was to go without his leave, he might be caled to an account for it after ward. If you will be so good as to ask Mr. Diot, and with his leave, I will gladly go with you." They commended me very much, and said _the_ first opertunity they would ask him, and I should know of them again. In the course of two or three days _I_ waited on them again. Mr. Morress said to me, "_Well_, Mr. C., we have opend your case to Mr. Diot. Mrs. [...], him long with you; he is a great fool to sto_p here_ so long as he have, I wounder how he have _not gone_ long before now. But Mr. D. said you was _best to_ stay a little longer," and added, "Mr. C., proveden_ce has_ presarved and provided for you in a mer_ciful manner_, so I would advise you to wait with p_atience, and you_ will be deliverd in God's due time." I th_anked them and_ took my l_eave of_ them, wondring w_here that_ should come from, for it was the _words of a spir_itual man. I went in one of my solatry cornars and there sung, and blessed and praised God. I can almoste feel at this moment how happy and thankfull I was, so well and contented equaly to stay as to go; and if it was the will of God, I should stay there all my lifetime, still, good is the will of the Lord, may His will be done.

So I continued to my work aboute the boats and vessels as before, walking in the same self-denial, until the 6 or 7 of Augst, 1795, when, unexpected, on Saturday received a letter from Mr. M----h to meet him at St. Paul's next monday, that he had obtained a pasport for himself, famely, and me to go to England, and Mr. Clansee was then at Brest, who had then got a nutral ship to take us home. Well, then, _this_ was a great as well as unexpected news, and many _times_ before then thought that I should be very glad and thank_ful_ if I ever lived to see such chainge. But it answered the same efect as every other change I passed through, a fear I should meet with anything that should obstruct my communan with the Lord, and this is my mening when you read of any case before, when I said I went in fear and trembling. So that on Munday morn_ing I set out_ for S^{t.} Paul's _in_ C^{o.} with Mrs. Diot and her two little _children and t_wo sarvants riding in a coach, and me on horseback, where we arrived at S^{t.} Paul's at ten in the morning, and there joind Mr. and Mrs. M. and their loving famely. Staid there untel Tuesday morning with my dear old friend and Mother, Madam Esel le Pleary, and set out for Landernau in C^{o.} with the two maidens. We arrived at Landernau aboute three in the after noon. Wensday morning breakfast with my two old friends, Mr. and Mad^{m.} Elel Renard, and old jen^{t.} and young lady, who was his daughter. We was many months prisonars togither, but then all librated, and they in their own house. Same morning took a boat, and at four in the afternoon arrived on board the ship _in_ Brest harbar, where we met all the fam_ily_ together, the same ten of us that was stop_ped to_gether through a merical of mercy in d_eed, and_ not one hair of our heads diminished. _Praise be_ to God, here was another chainge. This ship was form_erly an Engl_ish frigate, then under Danish coulars, _and_ the Capt^{n.} an English man. The _first night_ I sleept on the cabin flooar covered _with a_ great coat, then got a hammack [...] amongst the sailors. And when more _people came_ on board, I went between decks, being [...] more quiat. I supose the whole numbar of pasengars was aboute fifty offesars in the army and navy, where I never was in such hurry and noise yet, in all the course of my life, nither to sea nor land. I was allwayse imploid in reading, in cooking, tending my famely to the table, etc. And there was a black boy, the sarvant to one of the officers, very ill moste of the time, and no person to do the leaste thing for him but myself onely. I had a quiat place between decks to lodge in and pray, so that no person desturbed me. I used the same self-denial as before. I have been often led to wonder many times since of the goodness of God, for all they _were_ such wild, distracted, disapated souls, I never _had the_ least tryal from one of them, nither one _of the_ ship's company during the whole time. I could _always_ bring any dish of meat from the cook to the _cabin to_ my famely, and no person set the least hand _on me; or_ if one of the others did, they was ready allmoste _to kill_ one the other; and the Captain would trust me _with the_ tea and shugar canestar, but not one person _else_ on board. I have thought many times _since abou_te it, more than at that time through [...] d favour with God and man. _We lay in Brest_ Roade nine days _wind_ bound, and then _got a fair_ wind to the Nor_thwa_rd and westward [...] etc., arived at Falmouth 22 August, 1795. Arived onshore aboute three o'clock in the afternoon with much fear and trembling, where I meet with my dear little Bettsy, there staying with her aunt, Mrs. Smythe, then between 8 and 9 years old. In the evning went to prayer meeting in the great Chaple. I said sumething to the people, but found but little liberty. I thought the cause might have been after aboute three weeks exposed to so much noise and company, and for want of composure of mind, and likewayse so long a time out of the habit of exercising in that way. I have thought many times since, if I was ever dead to the world and to myself, I was then in them days. It matterd but little where my lott was cast, whether in prosperity or adversity, whether sickness or health, take life or all my friends away, I could trust boath soul and body, with every thing _that_ I had, in to the hands of my great Creator with_out the_ leaste resarve. I have thought many times since _in them_ days, tho' I did not know it then, that I had no will, or rather, of my own, but my will w_as_ loste in the will of God. It is now brought _into my_ remembrance as the ship lyed to of _Falmouth_ harbar, there was not boats enuf to c_arry all the_ pasangers and bagage at once, and I _waited to_ the laste with two more, staid untel _another_ boat should come, the wind blowing _fresh from_ the westward. The Captain grew v_ery impatient, looking_ out for a boat, and at laste said, "_I shall not wait_ only a few minuts longer, and ta_ke you with me_." One of these p_as_a_ngers was ma_king _such a_ noise, allmoste ready to jump overboard, for fear to be card up Channel. I said to him, "Have a little patience, we shall have a boat in a little time now." He turned unto me in a very sulky manner, and said, "Who is like you, you are allwayse at home, you don't care where you are car'd." I smiled, said nothing, but rejoiced within, and said to myself, "You are saying the truth." And I thought if it was the will of the Lord that I should be car'd to Copenhagen, that good is the will of the Lord. So in the course of a few minits after saw a boate coming, and so all was well again. I have thought since them days, I mean, since the day that my soul was sanctified, that there did harley one thought pass through me unperseeved in all my waking moments when I was in company talking aboute the things of the world, or the things of God, when in private by myself, or acting of business, my _spirit_, as it were, was in a continual blaze of inward prayer. Well, then, I staid that night at Falmouth, the next morning went to Penryn with my dear little Bettsey in my hand, to see Mr. M----h and his loving family, who was then at Mrs. Scot. The next morning, on Sunday, took a horse and arived at Breage Church town[78] aboute eleven o'clock, where I meet my dear brother Frank, then in his way to Church. As I first took him in surprise, at first I could harley make him sensable I was his brother, being nearley two years without hearing whether I was dead or alife. But when he come to himself as it were, we rejoiced together with exceeding great joy indeed. We went to his house in Rinsey, and after dinner went to see brother John.[79] We sent him word before I was coming. But he could harley believe it, with the voice of, "How can these things be?" But f_irst_ looking out with his glass saw me yet a long way off. Ran to meet me, fell upon my neck, and said in language like this, "This is my brother that was dead, but is alive again; he was loste, but is found." We passed the afternoon with him, and in the evning went to Keneggy to see brother Charles, wh_ere we_ meet with many tears of joy, _and afterwards_ returned again to Rinsey in _the evening_, where we had all our conversation _about_ Hevenly things, _which_ was a treat indeed, _after being_ so long _silent_ on the subject.

WILLIAM BYLES AND SONS, PRINTERS, 129 FLEET STREET, LONDON, AND BRADFORD.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] It is said that this name is derived from the fact that John Carter, a brother of Harry Carter, and the most famous of the smugglers, lived there. He was nicknamed the "King of Prussia," and the house in which he lived is still known as the "King of Prussia's House." The origin of this nickname is explained by a story that when they were all boys together, they used to play at soldiers, and John would always claim to be the King of Prussia. Clearly an echo of the fame of Frederick the Great had reached these boys about the time of the Seven Years' War.

[2] 17 Geo. III. c. 7.

[3] See Lecky. _History of Eighteenth Century_, vol. iv. ch. xiv.

[4] Carlyle. _French Revolution_, bk. iii. ch. iv.

[5] Spelt "yest" in the manuscript throughout.

[6] "Called." The spelling is the dialect pronunciation.

[7] A small village about half a mile from Prussia Cove.

[8] Spelt "fever" in the manuscript. The Cornish people do not distinguish "v" and "w."

[9] "Bal" is a mine, tin or copper.

[10] This name is now lost.

[11] ? Folkestone, see p. 80.

[12] The sizes of all his vessels are given in old measurement. Before 1835 ships were measured by the following elaborate rule. Subtract three-fifths of the greatest breadth from the length of the keel, multiply this by the breadth, and the result by half of the breadth; divide the result so obtained by 94, and the answer is the size of the ship in tons (see 13 Geo. III. c. 26, § 74). They are now measured by the cubical contents. It is difficult to render these figures in modern measurement, but this sloop was probably about the size which would be now called 10 tons.

[13] About 18 tons in modern measurement.

[14] About 30 tons in modern measurement.

[15] Spelt "oughten" in the manuscript. Daughter is still pronounced "dafter" in West Cornwall.

[16] Conscience.

[17] "Felt," dialect pronunciation.

[18] "Carried," dialect pronunciation.

[19] About 60 tons in modern measurement.

[20] The treaty between France and the Americans was made on February 6, 1778.

[21] "Kept," dialect pronunciation.

[22] The "King of Prussia."

[23] Cf. note 12.

[24] About 50 tons in modern measurement.

[25] Newlyn, near Penzance.

[26] The collector of the Customs, presumably at Penzance.

[27] Spelt "feve" in the manuscript. Cf. note 8.

[28] About 45 tons in modern measurement.

[29] ? Cawsand near Plymouth.

[30] Burtons, a small tackle of two pulleys to be fastened anywhere at pleasure (Phillips' _Dictionary_, 1706). Now obsolete.

[31] Near Cuddan Point. It was built about 1775 by Mr. John Stackhouse, of Pendarves.

[32] It is said that the doctor who attended him at this time was always met on the road about a mile away by two men, who blindfolded him; and in this way he was brought to the Castle, and so led back to the road again. A precaution to prevent him from giving information as to Harry Carter's hiding place.

[33] Spelt "oughten" in the manuscript. See note 15.

[34] Glazier.

[35] Thomas Coke, LL.D.; he was ordained Bishop or Superintendent of the American Methodist Societies by John Wesley in 1784.

[36] This expression, which occurs several times in the following pages, is common in West Cornwall in the sense of "although."

[37] This is one of Dr. Watts' hymns. It was not included by John Wesley in the Hymn-book which he published in 1790.

[38] Francis Asbury. He was sent to America by John Wesley in 1771, and was elected Joint Superintendent with Dr. Coke at the Conference held at Baltimore in 1784. He was the only English preacher who remained in America during the War of Independence.

[39] This is one of the "Olney" hymns by Cowper and Newton.

[40] Spelt "worps" in the manuscript, which is dialect pronunciation. Cf. "sharps" for "shafts" (of a cart), and "vycicle" for "bycicle," which are both common.

[41] Spelt "feve" in the manuscript. Cf. note 8.

[42] Spelt "youmping" in the manuscript. Cf. "yest" for "just," note 5.

[43] ? "Bustle."

[44] Ordinances.

[45] "Carry"; dialect.

[46] 'Bedstead.' 'Stead' would be pronounced 'steed' in West Cornish dialect.

[47] "Further"; dialect.

[48] Spelt "laght" in the manuscript. Cf. note 8.

[49] The ordinary word for "a valley" in West Cornwall.

[50] A well; dialect pronunciation.

[51] Old measurement.

[52] _I.e._, in their reckoning as to the position of the vessel.

[53] ? Folkestone (see p. 4).

[54] On the Fal.

[55] Near Prussia Cove.

[56] Intending; dialect.

[57] A small village about a mile from Prussia Cove.

[58] Lazarus.

[59] Spelt 'oughten' in the manuscript. See note 15.

[60] Referring to the Government reward for his capture.

[61] Cliffs; dialect.

[62] Actions.

[63] Spelt "oft" in the manuscript. See note 15.

[64] War was declared on the 1st February, 1793.

[65] Guillotine.

[66] Farthing; dialect.

[67] Carhaix.

[68] "Chair"; dialect.

[69] Guillotine.

[70] ? Carmelites.

[71] Meaning "by"; dialect.

[72] A common expression in West Cornwall. It is a forcible way of saying that his means were fully occupied.

[73] Meaning "unless"; dialect.

[74] Meaning "against"; dialect.

[75] Robespierre was executed on 28th July, 1794. Soon after his death the Convention decreed that "Prisoners and other persons under accusation should have a right to demand some 'Writ of accusation' and see clearly what they were accused of."--Carlyle: _French Revolution_, Book vii. ch. i. This decree was followed by the release of great numbers of "Suspect" and other prisoners.

[76] Meaning "by"; dialect.

[77] The Cornish people always measure weight in scores (20 lbs). The stone (14 lbs) is unknown.

[78] In West Cornwall every collection of houses is called a town. The village in which the parish church stands is called "Church town."

[79] He lived at Prussia Cove.

Transcriber's notes:

The following is a list of changes made to the original.
The first line is the original line, the second the corrected one.

"from this it is evident," says Dr,
"from this it is evident," says Dr.

19, 1829, The last thirty years of his life
19, 1829. The last thirty years of his life

may prizes, manned and commanded chiefly
many prizes, manned and commanded chiefly

same part of the the town, went in company
same part of the town, went in company

so happy in all my life as I was at that _time_,
so happy in all my life as I was at that _time_.

in God my Saviour, To the end of this
in God my Saviour. To the end of this

must go with him, he would not be denied,
must go with him, he would not be denied.