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SOME ACCOUNT 
 
 OF THE EARLY PART OF THE 
 
 LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 Elizabeth Ashbridge, 
 
 WHO DIED, IN THE TRUTH'S SERVICE, AT THE HOUSE 
 
 OF ROBERT LECKY, INTHE COUNTY OF CARLOW, 
 
 IRELAND, THE 16tH OF 5tH MONTH, 
 
 1755. 
 WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 
 
 '* Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she 
 loved much." LuJ'e, vii, 47. 
 
 a A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump." Gal. r, 9. 
 
 Philadelphia: 
 
 PRINTED FOR BENJAMIN AND THOMAS KITE > 
 NO. 21, SOUTH FOURTH STREET. 
 
 1807. 
 
SOME ACCOUNT, Stc. 
 
 JVLy life having been attended with many- 
 uncommon occurrences, I have thought pro- 
 per to make some remarks on the dealings of 
 divine goodness with me. I have often had 
 cause, with David, to say, " It is good for 
 me that I have been afflicted j" and most ear- 
 nestly I desire that they who read the follow- 
 ing lines may take warning, and shun the 
 evils into which I have been drawn. 
 
 1 was born at Middlewich, in Cheshire, in 
 the year 1713, of honest parents, named Tho- 
 mas and Mary Sampson. My father bore a 
 good character, but he was not so strictly re- 
 ligious as my mother, who was a pattern of 
 virtue to me. I was my father's only child ; 
 but my mother had a son and a daughter by 
 a former husband. Soon after I was born, 
 my father went to sea, and, following his pro- 
 
 a 2 
 
4 
 fession, which was that of a surgeon, made 
 many long voyages. He continued in his 
 sea-faring course of life till I was twelve years 
 old, so that the care of the early part of my 
 education devolved upon my mother ; and 
 she discharged her duty, in endeavouring to 
 imbue my mind with the principles of virtue. 
 I have had reason to be thankful that I was 
 blest with such a parent; her good advice 
 &nd counsel to me have been as bread cast 
 upon the waters. She was an instructive ex- 
 ample to all who knew her, and generally be- 
 loved ; but, alas ! as soon as the time came, 
 when she might reasonably expect the benefit 
 from her labours, and have had comfort in me, 
 I deserted her. In my childhood I had an 
 awful regard for religion and religious people, 
 particularly for ministers, all of whom I be- 
 lieved to be good men and beloved of God, 
 which I earnestly wished to be my own case. 
 I had also great tenderness for the poor, re- 
 membering that I had read they were beloved 
 of the Lord. This I supposed to mean such as 
 were poor in temporal things,; whom I often 
 visited in their cottages, and used to think 
 that they were better off than myself; yet, if 
 I had money, or any thing suitable for a gift, 
 I bestowed it on them, recollecting that they 
 who gave to such, lent unto the Lord. I 
 
 
5 
 
 made remarks on those who pretended to re« 
 ligion; and, when I heard people swear, I 
 was troubled ; for my mother told me that, if 
 I used any naughty words, God would not 
 love me. 
 
 I observed that there were several different 
 religious" societies ; this I often thought of, 
 and wept with desires that I might be direct- 
 ed to the one which it would be best for me 
 to join. In this frame of mind passed my 
 younger years. I was sometimes guilty of 
 the faults common among children, but was 
 always sorry for what I had done amiss ; and, 
 till I was fourteen years of age, I was as in- 
 nocent as most children. About this time, 
 my sorrows (which have continued, for the 
 greatest part of my life, ever since) began, by 
 my giving way to a foolish passion, in setting 
 my affections on a young man, who, with- 
 out the leave of my parents, courted me till I 
 consented to marry him ; and, with sorrow of 
 heart, I relate, that I suffered myself to be 
 carried off in the night. We were married. 
 My parents made all possible search for me, 
 as soon as I was missing, but it was in vain. 
 This precipitate act plunged me into muc& 
 sorrow. I was soon smitten with remorse for 
 thus leaving my parents, whose right it was 
 to have disposed of me to their content, or 
 
 A 3 
 
6 
 
 who, at lease, ought to have been consulted. 
 But I was soon chastised for my disobedience, 
 and convinced of my error. In five months, 
 I was stripped of the darling of my heart, and 
 left a young and disconsolate widow. I was 
 now without a home. My husband had deriv- 
 ed his livelihood only from his trade, which 
 was that of a stocking weaver ; and my father 
 was so displeased that he would do nothing 
 for me. My dear mother had some compas- 
 sion for me, and kept me among the neigh- 
 bours. Afterwards, by her advice, I went to 
 a relation of hers, at Dublin. We hoped that 
 my absence would soften my father's rigour; 
 but he continued inflexible ; he would not 
 send for me back, and I dared not to return 
 unless he did. 
 
 The relation I went to reside with was one 
 of the people called Quakers. His habits 
 were so very different to what I had been ac- 
 customed to, that the visit proved disagreeable 
 to me. I had been brought up in the way of 
 the Church of England, and though, as I 
 have said, I had a religious education, yet I 
 was allowed to sing and dance, which my 
 cousin would not permit. The great vivacity 
 of my natural disposition would not, in this 
 instance, suffer me to give way to the gloomy 
 tense of sorrow and conviction ; and therefore 
 
7 
 my present restraints had a wrong effect. I 
 became more wild and airy than ever; my 
 cousin often reproved me ; but I then thought 
 his conduct was the result of singularity, and 
 would not bear it, or be controlled. Having 
 a distant relation in the West of Ireland, I 
 went to him. I now enjoyed all the liberty I 
 wished ; for, what rendered me disagreeable 
 to my other kinsman, was quite pleasing to 
 this. Between these two relations I spent 
 three years and three months. 
 
 While I was in Ireland, I contracted an 
 intimate acquaintance with a widow and her 
 daughter, who were papists. We conversed 
 very frequently about religion, each of us de- 
 fending our peculiar tenets; and, though I 
 was much given to gaiety, our discussions 
 often made me thoughtful. The old woman 
 told me of such mighty miracles, done by 
 their priests, that I began to be shaken in my 
 own belief; and thought that, if these things 
 were so, they must, of a truth, be the apostles' 
 successors. She perceived the state of my 
 mind, and, one day, exclaimed with rapture, 
 " Oh ! if I can, under God, be the happy 
 instrument of converting you to the holy Ca- 
 tholic Faith, all the sins that ever I committed 
 will be forgiven." Sometimes I frequented 
 her place of worship, but none of my rela- 
 
8 
 
 tions knew what was the motive. The affair 
 went so far, that the priest came to converse 
 with me. Being young, and my judgment 
 weak, I was ready to believe what he said ; 
 yet resolved not blindly to adopt their creed. 
 I thought that, if their articles of faith were 
 sound, they would not be against my know- 
 ing them ; and, therefore, the next time I saw 
 the priest, I told him, that I had some inten- 
 tion of becoming one of his flock, but wished 
 <first to know what I must agree to. He an- 
 swered, that I must first confess my sins to 
 him ; and gave me till the next day to consi- 
 der of them. I was not averse to this, con- 
 scious of having done nothing for which any 
 one could harm me ; and thinking that, if 
 what he had said was true, the confession 
 would be for my good. When he came again, 
 I told all that I could remember ; which, for 
 my part, I thought bad enough ; but he con- 
 sidered me, he said, the most innocent crea- 
 ture that ever made confession to him. When 
 I had done, he took a book, which he read, 
 and told me, I was to swear I believed, if I 
 joined them. I shall not trouble my reader 
 with the recital of its ridiculous contents. 
 What principally made me sick of my new 
 intention was, that I was to swear I considered 
 the Pretender to be king James's son, and the 
 
9 
 
 true heir of the crown of England ; and that 
 all who died out of the pale of the popish 
 church, would be damned. These doctrines 
 startled me ; I hesitated, and desired time to 
 take them into consideration ; but, before I 
 saw the priest again, a change of circum- 
 stances freed me from the necessity of giving 
 him an answer. 
 
 My father still keeping me at such a dis- 
 tance, I thought myself quite excluded from 
 his affections, and therefore resolved not to 
 return home. I became acquainted with a 
 gentlewoman, lately arrived from Pennsylva- 
 nia ; she was intending to return, and, as I 
 had an uncle (my mother's brother) in this 
 province, I soon agreed with her for my pas- 
 sage. I was ignorant of the nature of an in- 
 denture, and suffered myself to be bound. 
 This was done privately, that it might not be 
 found out. As soon as it was over, she invit- 
 ed me to see the vessel in which I was to sail, 
 I readily consented, and we went on board, 
 where there was another young woman, who, 
 as I afterwards found, was of a respectable 
 family, and had been brought there in the 
 same way as myself. I was pleased with the 
 thought that I should have such an agreeable 
 companion in my voyage. While we were 
 busy conversing, my conductor went on shore, 
 
10 
 
 and, when I wished to go, I was not permit- 
 ted. I now saw I was kidnapped. I was 
 kept a prisoner in the ship three weeks, at the 
 end of which time my companion was found 
 out by her friends, who fetched her away ; 
 and, by her information, my friends sent the 
 water-bailiff, -who took me on shore. I was 
 kept close for two weeks, but at length found 
 means to get away. I was so filled with the 
 thoughts of going to America that I could 
 not give up the design ; and, meeting the 
 captain, I inquired when he sailed j he told 
 me, and I went on board. 
 
 There was, in the ship, sixty Irish servants, 
 and several English passengers. The latter 
 were unacquainted with the Irish language, 
 which I had taken much pains to learn, and 
 understood pretty well. Twenty of the ser- 
 vants belonged to the gentlewoman above- 
 mentioned, who, with a young man, (her hus- 
 band's brother,) went with us. While we 
 were on the coast of Ireland, where the wind 
 kept us some weeks, I overheard the Irish 
 contriving how they should be free, when 
 they got to America. To accomplish their 
 design, they concluded to rise and kill the 
 ship's crew, and all the English, and to ap- 
 point the above-mentioned young man to na- 
 vigate the vessel. But, overhearing thei» 
 
11 
 
 conversation, I discovered their barbarous 
 intention to the captain, who acquainted the 
 English with it. The next day, we bore for 
 the shore, and, at a short distance from the 
 cove of Cork, lowered sail and dropt anchor, 
 under pretence that the wind was not fair for 
 us to stand our course. The boat was hoisted 
 out, and the passengers were invited to go 
 and divert themselves on shore. Along with 
 others went the ringleader of the Irish. This 
 was all that was desired. The rest left him, 
 and came on board. The captain immedi- 
 ately ordered his men to weigh anchor, and 
 hoist sail. There were great outcries for the 
 young man on shore, but he said that the 
 wind had freshened up, and he would not 
 stay for his own son. Thus were the designs 
 of those Irish servants rendered abortive, in a 
 way they did not suspect, and which it was 
 thought advisable to keep a secret, lest they 
 should injure me. At length, however, they 
 discovered that I understood their speech, by 
 my smiling at a story they were telling. From 
 this time they divised many ways to do me 
 a mischief, for which several of them were 
 punished. 
 
 On the 1 5th of the 7th month, which was 
 nine weeks sfter we left Dublin, we arrived at 
 New York. Here I was betrayed by the very 
 
12 
 
 men whose lives I had preserved. The cap- 
 tain caused an indenture to be made, and 
 threatened me with a gaol, if I refused to sign 
 it. I told him that I could find means to sa- 
 tisfy him for my passage without becoming 
 bound. He replied, that I might take my 
 choice, either to sign the indenture he showed 
 me, or the one I had signed in Ireland should 
 be in force. In a fright, I signed the former ; 
 for I had, by this time, learned the character 
 of the woman who first induced me to think 
 of going to America ; she was a vile creature, 
 and I feared that, if I fell into her hands, I 
 should be used ill. 
 
 In two weeks I was sold. At first I had not 
 much reason to complain of the treatment I 
 received ; but, in a short time, a difference, in 
 v/hich I was innocent, happened, that set my 
 master against me, and rendered him inhu- 
 man. It will be impossible for me to convey 
 an adequate idea of the sufferings of my ser- 
 vitude. Though my father was not rich, yet, 
 in his house, I lived well, and I had been used 
 to little but my school ; but, now, I found it 
 would have been better for me if I had been 
 brought up with less indulgence. I was not 
 allowed decent clothes ; I was obliged to per- 
 form the meanest drudgery, and even to go 
 barefoot in the snow. I suffered the utmost 
 
13 
 
 hardship that my body was able to bear, and 
 the effect produced on my mind had nearly 
 been my ruin for ever. 
 
 My master seemed to be a very religious 
 man, taking the sacrament (so called) regu- 
 larly, and praying every night in his family ; 
 unless his prayer-book could not be found, for 
 he never prayed without it to my knowledge. 
 His example, however, made me sick of his 
 religion : for, though I had but little religion 
 myself, I had some idea of what religious 
 people ought to be. Respecting religion, my 
 opinions began to waver ; I even doubted whe- 
 ther there was any such thing ; and began to 
 think that the convictions I had felt, from my 
 infancy, were only the prejudices of educa- 
 tion. These convictions seemed now to be 
 lost ; and, for some months, I do not remem- 
 ber to have felt them. I became hardened, 
 and was ready to conclude that there was no 
 God. The veneration I had felt for religious 
 men, in my infancy, was entirely gone ; I 
 now looked upon them in a very different 
 manner. My master's house was a place of 
 great resort for the clergy ; and, sometimes, 
 those who came from a distance lodged with 
 him. The observations I made on their con- 
 duct confirmed me in my atheistical opinions. 
 They diverted themselves, in the evening, 
 
14 
 
 with cards and songs, and, a few moments 
 after, introduced prayers and singing psalms 
 to Almighty God. Often did I say to myself, 
 " If there be a God, he is a pure Being, and 
 will not hear the prayers of polluted lips." 
 
 But he who hath, in an abundant manner, 
 shown mercy to me, (as will be seen in the 
 sequel,) did not long suffer my mind to be per- 
 plexed with doubts ; but, in a moment, when 
 my feet were on the brink of the bottomless 
 pit, plucked me back. 
 
 To one woman, and to no other, I told the 
 nature of the difference which had happened, 
 two years before, between my master and me. 
 By her means, he heard of it, and, though 
 he knew it was true, he sent for the town's 
 whipper to correct me. I was called in. He 
 never asked me whether I had told any such 
 thing, but ordered me to strip. My heart 
 was ready to burst. I would as freely have 
 given up my life as have suffered such igno- 
 miny. " If," said I, " there be a God, be 
 graciously pleased to look down on one of 
 the most unhappy creatures, and plead my 
 cause ; for thou knowest that, what I have 
 related, is the truth ;" and, had it not been for 
 a principle more noble than he was capable of, 
 I would have told it to his wife. Then, fix- 
 ing my eyes on the barbarous man, I said, 
 
15 
 
 " Sir, if you have no pity on me, yet, for my 
 father's sake, spare me from this shame ; (for 
 he had heard several ways of my parents ;) 
 and, if you think I deserve such punishment, 
 do it yourself." He took a turn over the 
 room, and bade the whipper go about his 
 business. Thus I came off without a blow ; 
 but my character seemed to be lost. Many 
 reports of me were spread, which I bless God 
 were not true. I suffered so much cruelty 
 that I could not bear it ; and was tempted to 
 put an end to my miserable life. I listened to 
 the temptation, and, for that purpose, went 
 into the garret to hang myself. Now it was 
 I felt convinced that there was a God. As I 
 entered the place, horror and trembling seized 
 me ; and, while I stood as one in amazement) 
 I seemed to hear a voice saying, " There is a 
 hell beyond the grave." I was greatly asto- 
 nished, and cried, " God be merciful, and 
 enable me to bear whatsoever thou, in thy pro- 
 vidence, shall bring or suffer to come upon 
 me." I then went down stairs, but let no one 
 know what I had been about. 
 
 Soon after this I had a dream ; and, though 
 some make a ridicule of dreams, this seemed 
 very significant to me, and therefore I shall 
 mention it. I thought I heard a knocking at 
 the door, by which, when I had opened it, 
 
 b 2 
 
16 
 
 there stood a grave woman, holding in her 
 right hand a lamp burning, who, with a so- 
 lid countenance, fixed her eye upon me and 
 said, " I am sent to tell thee that, if thou 
 wilt return to the Lord thy God, who created 
 thee, he will have mercy on thee, and thy 
 lamp shall not be put out in obscurity." Her 
 lamp then flamed, in an extraordinary man- 
 ner ; she left me, and I awoke. 
 
 But, alas ! I did not give up to the " hea- 
 venly vision," as I think I may call it. I 
 was nearly caught in another snare, of the 
 most dangerous nature. I was esteemed skil- 
 ful at singing and dancing, in which I took 
 great delight. Once, falling in with a com- 
 pany of players, who were then in New York, 
 they took a great fancy, as they said, to me, 
 and invited me to become an actress amongst 
 them. They added, that they would find 
 means to release me from my cruel servitude, 
 and I should live like a lady. The proposal 
 pleased me, and I took no small pains to qua- 
 lify myself for them, in reading their play- 
 books, even when I should have slept. Yet, 
 on reflection, I demurred at taking this new 
 step, when I came to consider what my father 
 would think of it, who had forgiven my diso- 
 bedience in marrying, and had sent for me 
 home, earnestly desiring to see me again. 
 
17 
 
 But my proud heart would not suffer me to re- 
 turn, in so mean a condition, and I preferred 
 bondage. However, when I had served about 
 three years, I bought out the remainder of my 
 time, and worked at my needle, by which I 
 could maintain myself handsomely. But, 
 alas ! I was not sufficiently punished. I re- 
 leased myself from one cruel servitude, and, 
 in the course of a few months, entered into 
 another for life, by marrying a young man 
 who fell in love with me for my dancing ; a 
 poor motive for a man to chuse a wife, or 
 a woman a husband. For my part, I was in 
 love with nothing I saw in him ; and it seems 
 unaccountable to me, that after refusing se- 
 veral offers, both in this country and Ireland, 
 I should at last marry one I did not esteem. 
 My husband was a schoolmaster. A few days 
 after we were married, we went from New 
 York to a place called Westerly, in Rhode 
 Island, where he had engaged to keep a school. 
 With respect to religion he was much like 
 myself, without any ; and, when intoxicated, 
 would use the worst of oaths. I do not men- 
 tion this to expose him, but to show the effect 
 it had on myself. I saw myself ruined, as I 
 thought, in being joined to a man I did not 
 love, and who was a pattern of no good to 
 me. We thus seemed hastening towards dc- 
 
 b 3 
 
18 
 
 struction, when I concluded, if I was not for- 
 saken of heaven, to alter my course of life. 
 To fix my affection on the divine being, and 
 not to love my husband, seemed inconsistent. 
 I daily desired, with tears, that my affections 
 might be directed in a right manner, and can 
 say that, in a little time, my love was sincere. 
 I resolved to do my duty to God, and, ex- 
 pecting I must come to the knowledge of it 
 by the scriptures, I read these sacred writings 
 with a determination to follow their directions. 
 The more I read, the more uneasy I grew, — 
 especially about baptism. I had reason to 
 believe I had been sprinkled in my infancy, 
 because, at the age of thirteen, I was confirm- 
 ed by the bishop ; yet I could not discover a 
 precedent for the practice. In the course of 
 reading, I came to the passage where it is said, 
 " He that believes and is baptized," Sec — . 
 Here I observed that belief, of which I was 
 not capable when sprinkled, went before bap- 
 tism. I conversed frequently with the se- 
 venth day bap:ists that lived in the neigh- 
 bourhood, and, at length, thinking it only a 
 real duty, was, in the winter, baptized by 
 one of their teachers. I did not strictly join 
 with them, though I began to think the se- 
 venth day the true sabbath, and, for a time, 
 kept it. My husband did Rot oppose me, 
 
19 
 
 for he saw I grew more affectionate to him ; 
 and, as yet, I did not refuse to sing and dance, 
 when he asked me, though this way of amus- 
 ing myself did not yield me so much satis- 
 faction as formerly. 
 
 My husband and I now formed the plan of 
 going to England, and, for this purpose, we 
 went to Boston, where we found a vessel 
 bound to Liverpool. We agreed for our pas- 
 sage, and expected to sail in about two weeks ; 
 but, in the mean time, a gentleman hired the 
 vessel to carry himself and his attendants to 
 Fayal, and take no other passengers. There 
 being no other ship near sailing, we, for that 
 time, gave up our design, though we continued 
 at Boston several weeks. My mind was still 
 not satisfied, with regard to religion. I had 
 reformed my conduct, so as to be accounted, 
 by those who knew me, a sober woman ; yet I 
 was not content, for I expected to find the 
 sweets of such a change ; and, though several 
 thought me religious, I dared not to think so 
 myself. I conversed with people of all socie- 
 ties, as opportunity offered, several of whom 
 thought I was of their persuasion ; however, I 
 joined strictly with none, but resolved never 
 to leave off searching till I found the truth. 
 This was in the twenty-second year of my age. 
 While we were in Boston, I went, one day, 
 
20 
 
 to the Quaker's meeting, where I heard a Wo- 
 man friend speak, at which I was a little sur- 
 prised. I had been told of women's preach- 
 ing, but had never heard it before ; and I 
 looked upon her with pity for her ignorance, 
 and contempt for her practice ; saying to my- 
 self, " I'm. sure you're a fool, and, if ever I 
 turn Quaker, (which will never be,) I will 
 never be a preacher." Thus was my mind 
 occupied while she was speaking. When 
 she had done, a man stood up, who I could 
 better bear. He spoke sound doctrine on good 
 Joshua's resolution, « As for me and my 
 house we will serye the Lord." After sit- 
 ting down, and remaining silent awhile, he 
 went to prayer, which was attended with 
 something so awful and affecting, that it drew 
 tears from my eyes. 
 
 After leaving Boston, my husband being 
 given to rambling, which was very disagree- 
 able to me, we went to Rhode Island, and 
 from thence to the east end of Long Island, 
 where he hired to keep a school. This place 
 was principally settled by Presbyterians, and 
 I soon became acquainted with the most reli- 
 gious among them. My poverty was no bar 
 to my reception with people of the best credit, 
 with whom I frequently conversed ; but, the 
 more I became acquainted with them, the 
 
21 
 worse I liked their opinions. Many tempta- 
 tions, in the mean time, assaulted m>* unset- 
 tled mind. Having been abroad one day, I 
 perceived that the people, in whose house we 
 had a room, had left some flax in an apartment 
 through which I was to pass; at the sight of it, 
 I was tempted to steal some to make thread. I 
 went to it, and took a small bunch in my hand, 
 upon which I was smitten with such remorse 
 that I laid it down again, saying, " Lord 
 keep me from so vile an action." But the 
 temptation to steal became stronger than be- 
 fore ; and I took the bunch of flax into my 
 room ; when I came there, horror seized me, 
 and, with tears, I cried out, " O, thou God 
 of mercy, enable me to abstain from this vile 
 action." I then took the flax back, and felt 
 that pleasure which is only known to those 
 who have resisted temptation. 
 
 .My husband having hired further up the 
 Island, we changed our residence, and the 
 nearest place of worship belonging to a con- 
 gregation of the Church of England, which, 
 on the whole, I liked best, I attended it. 
 
 A fresh exercise, of a very peculiar kind, 
 now came upon me. It was in the second 
 month : I thought myself sitting by a fire, in 
 company with several others, among whom 
 
22 
 
 was my husband ; when there arose a thunder 
 gust, and a noise, loud as from a mighty- 
 trumpet, pierced my ears with these words : 
 "Oh eternity! eternity, the endless 
 term of long eternity ! I was exceedingly 
 astonished, and, while I was sitting as in a 
 trance, I beheld a long roll, written in black 
 characters, hearing, at the same time, a voice 
 saying, " These are thy sins," and afterwards 
 adding, " And the blood of Christ is not suffi- 
 cient to wash them out. This is shown thee 
 that thou may est confess thy damnation to be 
 just, and not in order that thou shouldst be 
 forgiven." I sat speechless ; at last I got up 
 trembling, and threw myself on the bed. Tho 
 company thought my indisposition proceeded 
 from a fright occasioned by the thunder ; but 
 it was of another kind. For several months I 
 was almost in a state of despair, and if, at 
 any time, I endeavoured to hope, or lay hold 
 of any gracious promise, the Tempter would 
 insinuate that it was now too late ; that the day 
 of mercy was over ; and that I should only 
 add to my sins by praying for pardon, and 
 provoke divine vengeance to make of me a 
 monument of wrath. I was, at it were, al- 
 ready in torment. I could not sleep, and ate 
 but little. I became extremely melancholy, 
 
23 
 and took no delight in any thing. Had all 
 the world been mine, I would have given it 
 gladly for one glimpse of hope. 
 
 My husband was shocked to see me so 
 changed. I, who once used to divert him 
 with singing and dancing, in which he great- 
 ly delighted, could not, since I grew religi- 
 ous, do it any longer. My singing was turned 
 into mourning, and my dancing into lamen- 
 tation. 
 
 My nights and days were one continued 
 scene of sorrow ; but I let no one know the 
 state of my mind. In vain did my husband 
 use all the means in his power to divert my 
 melancholy. The wound was too deep to be 
 healed with any thing short of the true balm 
 of Gilead. For fear of evil spirits I dared not, 
 nor would my husband suffer me, to go much 
 alone ; and, if I took up the bible, he would 
 take it from me, exclaiming, " How you are 
 altered ; you used to be agreeable company, 
 but now I've no comfort in you." I endea- 
 voured to bear all with patience, expecting 
 that I should soon have to bear more than man 
 could inflict. 
 
 I went to the priest, to see if he could re- 
 lieve me ; but he was a stranger to my case. 
 He advised me to take the sacrament, and 
 amuse myself with innocent diversions. He 
 
24 
 
 also lent me a book of prayers, which he said 
 were suited to my condition. But all was to 
 no purpose ; as to the sacrament, I thought 
 myself in a \'ery unfit state to receive it wor- 
 thily ; as for prayers, it appeared to me that, 
 when I could pray acceptably, I should be 
 enabled to do it without form ; and diversions 
 were burthensome. My husband, with a 
 view to alleviate my grief, persuaded me to go 
 to what is called the raising of a building, 
 where much company was collected, but it 
 had a contrary effect. An officer came to 
 summons a jury to sit on the body of a man 
 who had hanged himself; on receiving which 
 information a voice within me seemed to ad- 
 dress me thus : — Thou shalt be the next to 
 come to a like end ; for thou art not worthy to 
 die a natural death. For two months, I was 
 daily tempted to destroy myself, often so 
 strongly that I could scarcely resist. Before 
 I ventured to walk out alone I left behind me 
 every article which, in an unguarded moment, 
 T might use for this purpose ; fervently desir- 
 ing, at the same time, that God would pre- 
 serve me from taking that life which he had 
 given, and which he would have made happy, 
 if I had accepted the offers of his grace, 
 by regarding the convictions he had favoured 
 me with from my youth. During all this 
 
25 
 agony of mind, I could not shed a tear. 
 My heart was hardened, and my life was mi- 
 serable ; but God, in his infinite mercy, deli- 
 vered my soul from this thraldom. One 
 night, as I lay in bed, bemoaning my condi- 
 tion, I cryed " Oh my God, in thy mercy, 
 I beseech thee, look down upon me for 
 Christ's sake, who hath promised that all 
 manner of sins and blasphemies shall be for- 
 given. Lord, if thou wilt be graciously pleas- 
 ed to extend this promise to me, an unworthy 
 creature, trembling before thee, in all that 
 thou shalt command I will obey thee." In an 
 instant my heart was tendered, and I dissolved 
 in a flood of tears. I abhorred my past of- 
 fences, and admired the mercies of my God. 
 I could now hope in Christ my redeemer, and 
 look upon him with an eye of faith. I expe- 
 rienced what I believed when the priest lent 
 me his book, that, when my prayers would be 
 acceptable, I should not need a form, which 
 I used no more. I now took the sacrament, 
 and can say I did it with reverence and fear. 
 Being thus released from my deep distress, 
 I seemed like another creature, and went often 
 alone without fear. Once, as I was abhor- 
 ring myself, in great humility of mind, I 
 seemed to hear a gracious voice, full of love, 
 
 c 
 
26 
 say to me, " I will never forsake thee, only 
 obey in what I shall make known unto thee." 
 I answered, " My soul doth magnify the God 
 of mercy. If thou wilt dispense thy grace, 
 the rest of my days shall be devoted to serve 
 thee ; and, if it be thy will that I should beg 
 my bread, I will submit, with content, to thy 
 providence/' 
 
 I now began to think of my relations in 
 Pennsylvania, whom I had not yet seen. My 
 husband gave me liberty to visit them, and I 
 obtained a certificate from the priest, in order 
 that, if I made any stay, I might be received 
 as a member of the church wherever I came. 
 My husband accompanied me to the Blazing - 
 star Ferry, saw me safely over, and then re- 
 turned. In my way, I fell from my horse, 
 and, for several days, was unable to travel. 
 I abode at the house of an honest Dutchman, 
 who, with his wife, paid me the utmost atten- 
 tion, and would have no recompence for their 
 trouble. I left them with deep sentiments of 
 gratitude for their extraordinary kindness, 
 and they charged me, if ever I came that way 
 again, to lodge with them. I mention this, 
 because I shall have occasion to allude to it 
 hereafter. 
 
 When I came to Trent-town Ferry, I felt 
 
27 
 
 no small mortification on hearing that my re- 
 lations were all Quakers, and, what was worst 
 of all, that my aunt was a preacher. I was 
 exceedingly prejudiced against this people, 
 and often wondered how they could call them- 
 selves Christians. I repented my coming, 
 and was almost inclined to turn back ; yet, as 
 I was so far on my journey, I proceeded, 
 though I expected but little comfort from my 
 visit. How little was I aware it would bring 
 me to the knowledge of the truth ! 
 
 I went from Trent-town to Philadelphia by 
 water, and from thence to my uncle's on 
 horseback. My uncle was dead, and my 
 aunt married again ; yet, both she and her 
 husband received me in the kindest manner. 
 I had scarcely been three hours in the house, 
 before my opinion of these people began to al- 
 ter. I perceived a book lying upon the table, 
 and, being fond of reading, took it up ; my 
 aunt observed me, and said, "Cousin, that 
 is a Quaker's book." She saw I was not a 
 Quaker, and supposed I would not like it. I 
 made her no answer, but queried with myself, 
 what can these people write about ? I have 
 heard that they deny the scriptures, and have 
 no other bible than George Fox's Journal, — 
 denying, also, all the holy ordinances. But* 
 
 r °> 
 
28 
 
 before I had read two pages, my heart burned 
 within me, and, for fear I should be seen, I 
 went into the garden. I sat down, and, as 
 the piece was short, read it before I returned, 
 though I was often obliged to stop to give 
 vent to my tears. The fulness of my heart 
 produced the involuntary exclamation of, 
 " My God, must I, if ever I come to the 
 knowledge of thy truth, be of this man's 
 opinion, who has sought thee as I have done ; 
 and must I join this people, to whom, a few 
 hours ago, I preferred the papists. O, thou 
 God of my salvation, and of my life, who 
 hath abundantly manifested thy long suffering 
 and tender mercy, in redeeming me as from 
 the lowest hell, I beseech thee to direct me in 
 the right way, and keep me from error ; so 
 will I perform my covenant, and think no- 
 thing too near to part with for thy name's 
 sake. O, happy people, thus beloved of 
 God !" After having collected myself, I wash- 
 ed my face, that it might not be perceived I 
 had been weeping. In the night I got but 
 little sleep ; the enemy of mankind haunted 
 me with his insinuations, by suggesting that I 
 was one of those that wavered, and not stead- 
 fast in faith ; and advancing several texts of 
 scripture against me, as that, in the latter 
 
29 
 days, there should be those who would deceive 
 the very elect ; that of such were the people 
 I was among, and that I was in danger of 
 being deluded. Warned in this manner, 
 (from the right source as I thought,) I resolved 
 to be aware of those deceivers, and, for some 
 weeks, did not touch one of their books. 
 The next day, being the first of the week, I 
 was desirous of going to church, which was 
 distant about four miles ; but, being a stran- 
 ger, and having no one to go with me, I 
 gave up all thoughts of that, and, as most of 
 the family were going to meeting, I went there 
 with them. As we sat in silence, I looked 
 over the meeting, and said to myself, " How 
 like fools these people sit ; how much better 
 would it be to stay at home, and read the 
 Bible, or some good book, than come here 
 and go to sleep.'' As for me I was very drow- 
 sy ; and, while asleep, had nearly fallen 
 down. This was the last time I ever fell asleep 
 in a meeting. I now began to be lifted up 
 with spiritual pride, and to think myself bet- 
 ter than they ; but this disposition of mind 
 did not last long. It may seem strange that, 
 after living so long with one of this society at 
 Dublin, I should yet be so much a stranger to 
 them. In answer, let it be considered that, 
 
 c 5 
 
30 
 
 While I was there, I never read any of their 
 books, nor went to one meeting ; besides, I 
 had heard such accounts of them, as made 
 me think that, of all societies, they were the 
 worst. But he who knows the sincerity of 
 the heart, looked on my weakness with pity ; 
 I was permitted to see my error, and shown 
 that these were the people I ought to join. 
 
 A few weeks afterwards, there was an after- 
 noon meeting at my uncle's, at which a mi- 
 nister named William Hammans was present. 
 I was highly prejudiced against him when 
 he stood up, but I was soon humbled ; for 
 he preached the gospel with such power that 
 I was obliged to confess it was the truth. But, 
 though he was the instrument of assisting 
 me out of many doubts, my mind was not 
 wholly freed from them. The morning before 
 this meeting I had been disputing with my 
 uncle about baptism, which was the subject 
 handled by this minister, who removed all my 
 seruples beyond objection, and yet I seemed 
 loath to believe that the sermon I had heard 
 proceeded from divine revelation. I accused 
 my aunt and uncle of having spoken of me to 
 the friend ; but they cleared themselves, by 
 telling me, that they had not seen him, since 
 ir>y coming, until he came into the meeting. 
 
31 
 
 I then viewed him as the messenger of God 
 to me, and, laying aside my prejudices, open- 
 ed my heart to receive the truth ; the beauty 
 of which was shown to me, with the glory 
 of those who continued faithful to it. I had 
 also revealed to me the emptiness of all sha- 
 dows and types, which, though proper in 
 their day, were now, by the coming of the 
 Son of God, at an end, and everlasting right- 
 eousness, which is a work in the heart, was 
 to be established in the room thereof. I was 
 permitted to see that all I had gone through 
 was to prepare me for this day ; and that 
 the time was near, when it would be required 
 of me, to go and declare to others what the 
 God of mercy had done for my soul ; at 
 which I was surprised, and desired to be 
 excused, lest I should bring dishonour to the 
 truth, and cause his holy name to be evil 
 spoken of. 
 
 Of these things I let no one know. I fear- 
 ed discovery, and did not even appear like a 
 friend. 
 
 I now hired to keep school, and, hearing 
 of a place for my husband, I wrote, and de- 
 sired him to come, though I did not let him 
 know how it was with me. 
 
 I loved to go to meetings, but did not love 
 
32 
 to be seen going on week-days, and therefore 
 went to them, from my school, through the 
 woods. Notwithstanding all my care, the 
 neighbours, (who were not friends,) soon be- 
 gan to revile me with the name of Quaker ; 
 adding, that they supposed I intended to be 
 a fool, and turn preacher. Thus did I re- 
 ceive the same censure, which, about a year 
 before, I had passed on one of the handmaids 
 of the Lord in Boston. I was so weak, that 
 I could not bear the reproach. In order to 
 change their opinion, I went into greater ex- 
 cess of apparel than I had freedom to do, 
 even before I became acquainted with friends. 
 In this condition I continued till my husband 
 came, and then began the trial of my faith. 
 
 Before he reached me, he heard I was turn- 
 ed Quaker ; at which he stamped, and said, 
 " I had rather have heard she was dead, well 
 as I love her ; for, if it be so, all my comfort 
 is gone. He then came to me ; it was after 
 an absence of four months ; I got up and said 
 to him, " My dear, I am glad to see thee." 
 At this, he flew into a great rage, exclaiming, 
 " The devil thee, thee, thee, don't thee me." 
 I endeavoured, by every mild means, to pa- 
 cify him ; and, at length, got him fit to speak 
 to my relations. As soon after this as we were 
 
33 
 
 alone, he said to me, " And so I see your 
 Quaker relations have made you one ;" I re- 
 plied, that they had not, (which was true,) I 
 never told them how it was with me. He said 
 he would not stay amongst them ; and, hav- 
 ing found a place to his mind, hired, and 
 came directly back to fetch me, walking, in 
 one afternoon, thirty miles to keep me from 
 meeting the next day, which was first day. 
 He took me, after resting this day, to the 
 place where he had hired, and to lodgings he 
 had engaged at the house of a churchwarden. 
 This man was a bitter enemy of Friends, and 
 did all he could to irritate my husband against 
 them. 
 
 Though I did not appear like a friend, they 
 all believed me to be one. When my hus- 
 band and he used to be making their diver- 
 sions and reviling, I sat in silence, though 
 now and then an involuntary sigh broke from 
 me ; at which he would say, " There, did not 
 I tell you your wife was a Quaker, and she 
 will become a preacher." On such an occa- 
 sion as this, my husband once came up to me, 
 in a great rage, and shaking his hand over 
 me, said, " You had better be hanged in that 
 day." I was seized with horror, and again 
 plunged into despair, which continued nearly 
 
34 
 
 three months. I was afraid that, by denying 
 the Lord, the heavens would be shut against 
 me. I walked much alone in the woods, and 
 there, where no eye saw, or ear heard me, 
 lamented my miserable condition. Often 
 have I wandered, from morning till night, 
 without food. I was brought so low that my 
 life became a burden to me ; and the devil 
 seemed to vaunt that, though the sins of 
 my youth were forgiven me, yet now I had 
 committed an unpardonable sin, and hell 
 would inevitably be my portion, and my 
 torments would be greater than if I had 
 hanged myself at first. 
 
 In the night, when, under this painful dis- 
 tress of mind, I could not sleep, if my hus- 
 band perceived me weeping, he would revile 
 me for it. At length, when he and his friend 
 thought themselves too weak to overset mc, 
 he went to the priest at Chester, to inquire 
 what he could do with me. This man knew 
 I was a member of the Church, for I had 
 shown him my certificate. His advice was, 
 to take me out of Pennsylvania, and settle in 
 some place where there were no Quakers. 
 My husband replied, he did not care where 
 we went, if he could but restore me to my 
 natural liveliness of temper. As for me, I 
 
35 
 
 had no resolution to oppose their proposals, 
 nor much cared where I went. I seemed to 
 have nothing to hope for. I daily expected 
 to be made a victim of divine wrath, and was 
 possessed with the idea that this would be by 
 thunder. 
 
 When the time of removal came, I was 
 not permitted to bid my relations farewell ; 
 and, as my husband was poor, and kept no 
 horse, I was obliged to travel on foot. We 
 came to Wilmington, fifteen miles, and from 
 thence to Philadelphia by water. Here we 
 stopt at a tavern, where I became the spectacle 
 and discourse of the company. My husband 
 told them his wife had become a Quaker, and 
 he designed, if possible, to find out a place 
 where there was none : (thought I,) I was 
 once in a condition to deserve that name, but 
 now it is over with me. O that I might, 
 from a true hope, once more have an oppor- 
 tunity to confess the truth ; though I was 
 sure of all manner of cruelties, I would not 
 regard them. Such were my concerns, while 
 he was entertaining the company with my 
 story, in which he told them that I had been 
 a good dancer, but now he could get me nei- 
 ther to dance or sing. One of the company 
 then started up, and said, " I'll fetch a fid- 
 
36 
 die, and we'll have a good dance ;" a propo- 
 sal with which my husband was pleased. 
 When the fiddle was brought, my husband 
 came and said to me, " My dear, shake off 
 that gloom, and let us have a civil dance ; 
 you would, now and then, when you were a 
 good churchwoman, and that's better than a 
 stiff Quaker." I had taken up the reso- 
 lution not to comply with his request, what- 
 ever might be the consequence ; this I let him 
 know, though I durst say little, for fear of 
 his choleric temper. He pulled me round 
 the room, till the tears fell from my eyes, at 
 the sight of which the musician stopt, and said 
 " I'll play no more ; let your wife alone." 
 There was a person in company that came 
 from Freehold, in East Jersey, who said, " I 
 see your wife's a Quaker, but, if you'll take 
 my advice you need not go so far as you in- 
 tend ; come and live with us ; we'll soon cure 
 her of her Quakerism, and we want a school- 
 master and schoolmistress too." He consent- 
 ed, and a happy turn it was for me, as will 
 shortly be seen. The answer of peace was 
 afforded me, for refusing to dance ; I rejoiced 
 more than if I had been made mistress of 
 much riches, and, with tears, prayed, " Lord, 
 I dread to ask, and yet without thy gracious 
 
pardon, I am miserable. I therefore fall down 
 before thy throne, imploring mercy at thy 
 hand. O Lord, once more, I beseech thee, 
 try my obedience, and then, in whatsoever 
 thou commandest, I will obey thee, and not 
 fear to confess thee before men." My cries 
 were heard, and it was shown to me, that he 
 delights not in the death of a sinner. My 
 -soul was again set at liberty, and I could 
 praise him. 
 
 In our way to Freehold, we visited the 
 kind Dutchman, whom I have mentioned in a 
 former part of this narrative. He made us 
 welcome, and invited us to pass a day or two 
 with him. During our stay, we went to a 
 large meeting of Presbyterians, held not only 
 for worship, but business, in particular, the 
 trial of one of their priests, who had been 
 charged with drunkenness, was to come on. 
 I perceived such great divisions among the 
 people, respecting who should be their shep- 
 herd, that I pitied them. Some insisted on 
 having the old offender restored ; others wish- 
 ed to have a young man they had on trial for 
 some weeks ; others, again, were for sending 
 to New England for a minister. In reply, 
 one who addressed himself to the chief spea- 
 ker observed, " Sir, when we have been at the 
 
 D 
 
expense (which will not be trifling) of fetch- 
 ing this gentleman from New England, per- 
 haps he'll not stay with us." " Don't you 
 know how to make him stay ?" said another. 
 « No Sir." " I'll tell you ; give him a large 
 salary, and I'll engage he'll stay." I listened 
 attentively to the debate, and most plainly it 
 appeared to me, that these mercenary crea- 
 tures were all actuated by one and the same 
 motive, which was, not the regard for souls, 
 but the love of money. One of these men, 
 called a reverend divine, whom these people 
 almost adored, had, to my knowledge", left 
 his flock in Long Island, and removed to 
 Philadelphia, where he could get more money. 
 I have myself heard some on the Island say 
 that they had almost empoverished themselves 
 in order to keep him ; but, being unable to 
 equal what he was offered at Philadelphia, 
 he left them. Surely these are the shepherds 
 who regard the fleece more than the fleck, 
 and in whose mouths are lies, when they say 
 that they are the ambassadours of Christ, 
 whose command it is, " Freely ye have re- 
 ceived, freely give." 
 
 In our way to Freehold, as we came to 
 Stony Brook, my husband turned towards me, 
 and tauntingly said, " Here's one of Satan's 
 
39 
 
 synagogues, don't you long to be in it ; I 
 hope to see you cured of your new religion." 
 A little further on, we came to a large run of 
 water, over which there was no bridge, and, 
 being strangers, we knew no way to avoid 
 passing through it. He carried over our 
 clothes, which we had in bundles ; and, tak- 
 ing off my shoes, I walked through in my 
 stockings. It was in the 12th month; the 
 weather was very cold, and a fall of snow lay 
 on the ground. It was the concern of my 
 heart, that the Lord would sanctify all my 
 afflictions to me, and give me patience to 
 bear them. After walking nearly a mile, we 
 came to a house, which proved to be a sort 
 of tavern. My husband called for some spi- 
 rituous liquors, and I got some weakened 
 cider mulled, which rendered me extremely 
 sick ; so that, after we were a little past the 
 house, being too faint to proceed, I fell down. 
 " What's the matter now?" said my hus- 
 band, « what, are you drunk ? Where's your 
 religion now ?" He knew I was not drunk, and, 
 at that time, I believe he pitied me, although 
 he spoke in this manner. After I was a little 
 recovered, wc went on, and came to another 
 tavern, where we lodged. The next day, 
 as we journied, a young man, driving an 
 
 d 2 
 
40 
 
 empty cart, overtook us. We asked him to 
 let us ride, and he readily granted the request. 
 I had known the time when I would not have 
 been seen in a cart, but my proud heart was 
 humbled, and I did not now regard the look 
 of it. This cart belonged to a man in Shrews- 
 bury, and was to go through the place of our 
 destination. We soon had the care of the 
 team to ourselves, through a failure of the dri- 
 ver, and arrived with it at Freehold. My 
 husband would have had me stay here, while 
 he went to see the team safe home ; I told 
 him, No ; since he had led me through the 
 country like a vagabond, I would not stay 
 behind him. We therefore went together, 
 and lodged, that night, at the house of the 
 owner of the cart. The next day, on our 
 return to Freehold, we met a man riding full 
 speed, who, stopping, said to my husband, 
 " Sir, are you a schoolmaster ?"' He answered, 
 " Yes."' " I am come," replied the stranger, 
 ** to tell you of two new schoolhouses, two 
 miles apart, each of which wants a master." 
 How this person came to hear of us, who 
 arrived but the night before, I never knew. 
 I was glad he was not called a Quaker, lest 
 it should have been thought a plot by my 
 husband, to whom I turned and sai<3j — 
 
41 
 " My dear, look on me with pity, if thou 
 hast any affection left for me, which I hope 
 thou hast, for I am not conscious of having 
 done any thing to alienate it. Here is an 
 opportunity to settle us both, and I am willing 
 to do all in my power, towards getting an 
 honest livelihood." After a short pause, he 
 consented to go with the young man. In our 
 way, we came to the house of a worthy Friend, 
 who was a preacher, though we did not know 
 it. I was surprised to see the people so kind 
 to us. We had not been long in the house, 
 till we were invited to lodge there for the 
 night, being the last of the week. My hus- 
 band accepted the invitation, saying, " My 
 wife has had a tedious travel, and I pity her.*' 
 These kind expressions affected me, for I 
 heard them very seldom. The friend's kind- 
 ness could not proceed from my appearing 
 like a Quaker, because I had not yet altered 
 my dress. The woman of the house, after we 
 had concluded to stay, fixed her eyes upon 
 me, and said, " I believe thou hast met with 
 a deal of trouble," to which I made but little 
 answer. My husband observing they were of 
 that sort of people, whom he had so much 
 endeavoured to shun, gave us no opportunity 
 for discourse that night ; but, the next morn- 
 
 d 5 
 
42 
 
 ing, I let my friend know a little of my situ- 
 ation . 
 
 When meeting-time came, I longed to go, 
 but dared not to ask my husband's leave. As 
 the Friends were getting ready themselves, 
 they asked him if he would accompany them, 
 observing, that they knew those who were to 
 be his employers, and, if they were at meeting, 
 would speak to them. He consented. The 
 woman Friend then said, " And wilt thou let 
 thy wife go too ;" which request he denied ; 
 but she answered his objections so prudently 
 that he could not be angry, and at last con- 
 sented. I went with joy, and a heavenly 
 meeting it was. My spirit did rejoice in the 
 God of my salvation. May I ever, in humi- 
 lity, preserve the remembrance of his tender 
 mercies to me. 
 
 By the end of the week, we got settled in 
 our new situation. We took a room, in a 
 friend's house, one mile from each school, 
 and eight from the meeting-house. I now 
 deemed it proper to let my husband see I was 
 determined to join with friends. When first 
 day came, I directed myself to him in this 
 manner : " My dear, art thou willing to let 
 me go to meeting V* He flew into a rage, and 
 replied " No you sha'n't." Speaking firmly, 
 
43 
 I told him, " That, as a dutiful wife, I was 
 ready to obey all his lawful commands ; but, 
 when they imposed upon my conscience, I 
 could not obey him. I had already wronged 
 myself, in having done it too long ; and 
 though he was near to me, and, as a wife 
 ought, I loved him, yet God, who was nearer 
 than all the world to me, had made me sen- 
 sible that this was the way in which I ought 
 to go. I added, that this was no small cross 
 to my own will ; but I had given up my heart, 
 and I trusted that He who called for it would 
 enable me, for the remainder of my life, to 
 keep it steadily devoted to his service ; and I 
 hoped I should not, on this account, make 
 the worse wife." I spoke, however, to no 
 purpose ; — he continued inflexible. 
 
 I had now put my hand to the plough, and 
 resolved not to draw back ; I therefore went 
 without leave. I expected he would immedi- 
 ately follow and force me back, but he did not. 
 I called at the house of one of the neighbours, 
 and, getting a girl to show me the way, I 
 went on rejoicing, and praising God in my 
 heart. 
 
 Thus, for some time, I had to go eight 
 miles on foot tomeeting,which I never thought 
 hard. My husband had a horse, but he would 
 
44 
 not suffer me to ride on it ;"nor, when my shoes 
 were worn out, would he let me have a new 
 pair ; but, though he hoped, on this account, 
 to keep me from meeting, it did not hinder 
 me : — I have tied them round with strings to 
 keep them on. 
 
 Finding that all the means he had yet used 
 could not alter my resolutions, he several times 
 struck me with severe blows. I endeavoured 
 to bear all with patience, believing that the 
 time would come when he would see I was in 
 the right. Once he came up to me, took out 
 his penknife, and said, " If you offer to go to 
 meeting to-morrow, with this knife I'll crip- 
 ple you, for you shall not be a Quaker." I 
 made him no answer. In the morning, I set 
 out as usual ; he did not attempt to harm me. 
 Having despaired of recovering me himself, 
 he fled, for help, to the priest, whom he 
 told, that I had been a very religious woman, 
 in the way of the Church of England, of 
 which I was a member, and had a good certi- 
 ficate from Long Island ; that I was now 
 bewitched, and had turned Quaker, which 
 almost broke his heart ; and, therefore, he de- 
 sired that, as he was one who had the care of 
 souls, he would come and pay me a visit, and 
 use his endeavours to reclaim me, which he 
 
45 
 hoped, by the blessing of God, would be done. 
 The priest consented, and fixed the time for 
 his coming, which was that day two weeks, 
 as he said he could not come sooner. My 
 husband came home extremely pleased, and 
 told me of it. I replied, with a smile, I 
 trusted I should be enabled to give a reason 
 for the hope within me ; yet I believed, at 
 the same time, that the priest would never 
 trouble himself about me, which proved to be 
 the case. Before the day he appointed came, 
 it was required of me, in a more public man- 
 ner, to confess to the world what I was. I 
 felt myself called to give up to prayer in meet- 
 ing. I trembled, and would freely have given 
 up my life to be excused. What rendered 
 the required service harder on me was, that I 
 was not yet taken under the care of friends ; 
 and was kept from requesting to be so, for fear 
 I should bring a scandal on the society. I 
 begged to be excused till I had joined, and 
 then I would give up freely. The answer 
 was, " I am a covenant-keeping God, and 
 the word that I spake to thee, when I found 
 thee in distress, even that I would never for- 
 sake thee, if thou wouldst be obedient to what 
 I should make known unto thee, I will assu- 
 redly make good. If thou refusest, my spirit 
 
46 
 
 shall not always strive. Fear not, I will 
 make way for thee through all thy difficult'] es, 
 which shall be many, for my name's sake ; 
 but, be faithful, and I will give thee a crown 
 of life." To this language I answered " Thy 
 will, O God, be done ; I am in thy hand, 
 do with me according to thy word j" and I 
 then prayed. 
 
 This day, as usual, I had gone to meeting 
 on foot. While my husband (as he after- 
 wards told me) was lying on the bed, these 
 words crossed his mind : " Lord, where shall 
 I fly to shun thee," &c. upon which he arose, 
 and, seeing it rain, got the horse and set 
 off to fetch me, arriving just as the meet- 
 ing broke up. I got on horseback as quickly 
 as possible, lest he should hear I had been 
 speaking ; he did hear of it nevertheless, and, 
 as soon as we were in the woods, began with 
 saying, " Why do you mean thus to make 
 my life unhappy ? What, could you not be 
 a Quaker, without turning fool in this man- 
 ner ?" I answered in tears, " My dear, look 
 on me with pity, if thou hast any ; canst 
 thou think that I, in the bloom of my days, 
 would bear all that thou knowest of, and much 
 that thou knowest not of, if I did not feel it 
 my duty." These words touched him, and; 
 
47 
 he said, " Well, I'll e'en give you up ; I 
 see it wont avail to strive ; if it be of God I 
 cannot overthrow it; and, if of yourself, it 
 will soon fall." I saw the tears stand in his 
 eyes, at which I was overcome with joy, and 
 began already to reap the fruits of my obedi- 
 ence. But my trials were not yet over. The 
 time appointed for the priest to visit me arri- 
 ved, but no priest appeared. My husband 
 went to fetch him, but he refused, saying he 
 was busy, which so displeased my husband 
 that he never went to hear him again, and, for 
 some time, went to no place of worship. 
 
 My faith was now assaulted in another way, 
 so strongly, that all my former trials were but 
 trifling to it. This exercise came upon me 
 unexpectedly, by hearing a woman speak of 
 a book she had read, in which it was asserted 
 that Christ was not the Son of God. A voice 
 within me seemed to answer " No more he is, 
 it's all a fancy, and the contrivance of men." 
 Thus again was I filled with inexpressible 
 trouble, which continued three weeks ; and 
 again did I seek desolate places, where I 
 might make my moan. I have lain whole 
 nights without sleep. I thought myself de- 
 serted of God, but did not let go my trust 
 in him. I kept alive a hope that He wh© 
 
48 
 
 had delivered me as it were out of the paw oi" 
 the bear, and the jaws of the lion, would in 
 his own good time, deliver me from this 
 temptation also. This was, at length, my 
 experience ; and I found the truth of his 
 words, that all things shall work together for 
 the good of those who love and fear him. 
 My present exercises were to prepare me for 
 further services in his cause ; and it is neces- 
 sary for his ministers to experience all condi- 
 tions, that they may thereby be abler to speak 
 to them. 
 
 This happened just after my first appea- 
 rance as a minister, and friends had not been 
 to talk with nie. They did not well know 
 what to do, till I had appeared again, which 
 was not for some time, when the Monthly 
 Meeting appointed four friends to pay me a 
 visit. They left me well satisfied with the 
 conference, and I joined the society. My 
 husband still went to no place of worship. 
 One day he said to me, " I would go to meet- 
 ing, only I'm afraid I shall hear your clack, 
 which I cannot bear." I used no persuasions. 
 When meeting-time came, he got the horse, 
 took me behind him, and went. For several 
 months, if he saw me offer to rise, he went 
 cut ; till, one day, I rose before he was aware 
 
49 
 
 and then, as he afterwards owned, he wab 
 ashamed to do it. 
 
 From this time, he left off the practice, 
 and never hindered me from going to meeting. 
 Though he did not take up the cross, yet his 
 judgment was convinced ; and, sometimes, 
 melting into tears, he would say to me, " My 
 dear, I have seen the beauty there is in the 
 truth, and that thou hast followed the right 
 way, in which I pray God to preserve thee." 
 I told him, that I hoped He who had given 
 me strength would also favour him, " O," 
 said he, " I cannot bear the reproach thou 
 dost, to be called turn-coat, and become a 
 laughing-stock to the world; but I'll no longer 
 hinder thee." This I considered a favour, 
 and a little hope remained that my prayers, 
 on his account, would be heard. 
 
 We lived in a small house by ourselves, 
 which, though mean, and though we had 
 little to put in it, our bed being no better 
 than chaff, I was truly content. The only 
 desires I had were for my own preservation, 
 and to be blessed with the reformation of my 
 husband. He was connected with a set of 
 men whom he feared would make game of him* 
 which indeed they already did ; asking him 
 when he designed to commence preacher, for 
 
50 
 
 they saw he intended to turn Quaker, and seem- 
 ed to love his wife better since she became one 
 than before. They used to come to our house, 
 and provoked him to sit up and drink with 
 them, sometimes till near day, while I have 
 been sorrowing in a stable. Once, as I sat in 
 this condition, I heard him say to his com- 
 pany, « I can't bear any longer to afflict my 
 poor wife in this manner ; for, whatever you 
 may think of her, I do believe she's a good 
 woman." He then came to me and said, 
 " Come in, my dear, God has given thee a 
 deal of patience : I'll put an end to this prac- 
 tice." This was the last time they sat up at 
 night. 
 
 My husband now' thought that if he was 
 in any place where it was not known he had 
 been so bitter against friends, he could do 
 better. I objected to this, fearing it would 
 not be for his benefit. Frequently, in a bro- 
 ken and affectionate manner, he condemned 
 his ill usage of me. I answered, that I hoped 
 it had been for my good, and therefore de- 
 sired he would not be afflicted on that account. 
 According to the measure of grace received, 
 I did what I could, both by example and pre- 
 cept, for his good. My advice was for him 
 to stay where he was, as I was afraid be 
 
51 
 
 would grow weaker in his good resolutions, 
 if he removed. 
 
 All I could say would not avail. Hearing 
 of a place at Borden-town, he went thither, 
 but was not suited. He next removed to 
 Mount Holly, where he settled. We had 
 each of us a good school ; we soon got our- 
 house pretty well furnished, and might have 
 done very well. Nothing seemed wanting to 
 complete my happiness, except the reforma- 
 tion of my husband, which I had much rea- 
 son to doubt I should not see soon. It fell 
 out according to my fears. He addicted 
 himself much to drinking, and grew worse 
 than before. Sorrow was again my lot, I 
 prayed for patience to bear my afflictions, 
 and to submit to the dispensations of Provi- 
 dence. I murmured not ; nor do I recollect 
 that I ever uttered any harsh expressions 
 except on one occasion. My husband com- 
 ing home a little intoxicated, (a state in which 
 he was very fractious,) and, finding me at 
 work by a candle, he put it out, fetching me, 
 at the same time, a box on the ear, and say- 
 ing, M You don't earn your light." At this 
 unkind usage, which I had not been used to 
 for the last two years, I was somewhat angry, 
 and said, " Thou art a vile man." He struck 
 
 e 2 
 
52 
 
 me again ; but my anger had cooled, and I 
 Teceived the blow without so much as a word 
 in return. This also displeased him, and he 
 went on in a distracted like manner, uttering 
 such expressions of despair as, he believed he 
 was predestined to damnation, and he did not 
 care how soon God struck him dead. I said 
 very little, till, at length, in the bitterness of 
 my soul, I broke out into these expressions : 
 " Lord, look down on my afflictions, and 
 deliver me by some means or other." My 
 prayer was granted, but in such a manner 
 that I thought it would have killed me. He 
 went to Burlington, where he got drunk, and 
 inlisted to go as a common soldier to Cuba, 
 in the year 1740. I had drunk many bitter 
 cups, but this seemed the bitterest of them all. 
 A thousand times I blamed myself for making 
 such a request, which I was afraid had dis- 
 pleased God, who had, in displeasure, grant- 
 ed it for my punishment. 
 
 I have since had cause to believe that he 
 was benefited by his rash act, as, in the ar- 
 my, he did what he could not at home ; — he 
 suffered for the testimony of truth. When 
 they came to prepare for an engagement, he 
 refused to fight ; he was whipt, and brought 
 before the general, who asked him, why he 
 
53 
 
 inlisted if he would not fight. " I did it," 
 said he, " in a drunken frolic, when the devil 
 had the better of me ; but now my judgment 
 is convinced I ought not to fight, neither will 
 I, whatever I suffer. I have but one life, and 
 you may take that if you please, for I'll never 
 take up arms." He adhered to this resolution. 
 By their cruel usage of him in consequence, 
 he was so much disabled that the general sent 
 him to Chelsea Hospital, near London. With- 
 in nine months afterwards, he died at this 
 place, and I hope made a good end. 
 
 Having been obliged to say much of his ill 
 usage to me, I have thought it my duty to say 
 what I could in his favour. Although he was 
 so bad, I never thought him the worst of 
 men. If he had suffered religion to have had 
 its perfect work, I should have been happy in 
 the lowest situation of life. I have had cause 
 to bless God, for enabling me, in the station 
 of a wife, to do my duty, and now that I am 
 a widow, I submit to his will. May I still 
 be preserved by the arm of Divine Power ; 
 may I never forget the tender mercies of my 
 God, the remembrance of which often boweth 
 my soul in humility before his throne, and I 
 cry, " Lord ! what was I, that thou shouldst 
 have revealed to my soul the knowledge of 
 
 E 5 
 
54 
 
 thy truth, and have done so much for one 
 who deserved thy displeasure ? Mayst thou, 
 O God, he glorified, and I abased. It is thy 
 own works that praise thee ; and, of a truth, 
 to the humble soul, thou makest every bitter 
 thing sweet. 
 
 The foregoing account was written by Eliz- 
 abeth Ashbridge herself; the few particulars 
 which follow, were written by her last hus- 
 band, and sent along with it. 
 
 Her husband had been gone two or three 
 years before she heard of his death. He left 
 her nearly eighty pounds in debt, which, by 
 law, she was not obliged to pay, for want of 
 effects ; yet, as several creditors complained, 
 and said they would not have trusted him, if 
 it had not been for her sake, she engaged to 
 satisfy them all, as fast as she could. She set- 
 tled steadily to the business of school-keeping, 
 with which, and her needle, she maintained 
 herself handsomely. She gradually paid off 
 the above debts, and had nearly discharged 
 them all during her widowhood, though she 
 
5* 
 travelled much, in the mean time, as a mi- 
 nister. 
 
 In the ninth month, 1746, we were married 
 at Burlington, West Jersey. The company 
 of each other was dear and delightful ; but 
 the time came when we must part. Suffici- 
 ently convinced that her Lord and Master 
 called for her services abroad, my heart was 
 willing to give up the darling object of its 
 love. Though it has pleased the Divine Will 
 to remove her, without indulging my longing 
 desire to see her again, yet, fully satisfied that 
 she is called from the troubles of time to a 
 happy eternity, I am resigned, and enjoy a 
 grateful composure of mind. She left home 
 the 11th of the 5th month, 1753, and died, 
 in Ireland, the 16th of the 5th month, 1755. 
 
 AARON ASHBRIDGE. 
 
 ABSTRACT OF A TESTIMONY FROM THE NA- 
 TIONAL-MEETING OF IRELAND, HELD INDUB- 
 LIN, CONCERNING ELIZABETH ASHBRIDGE. 
 
 IN the year 1753, apprehending it required 
 of her to visit the meetings of friends in 
 England and Ireland, she left her habitation, 
 
56 
 
 with the consent of her husband, and the unity 
 and approbation of friends, as appears by her 
 certificate, and performed a religious visit to 
 many meetings in this nation, to the general 
 satisfaction of friends ; wherein she endured 
 so much bodily hardship in travelling, and 
 underwent so much spiritual exercise in mind, 
 that she fell dangerously ill at the city of 
 Cork; and to those two causes she always 
 imputed her disease. 
 
 After recovering so much strength as to be 
 able to proceed on her journey, she left Cork 
 and came to Waterford, to the house of our 
 friend John Hutchinson, where she remained 
 very much indisposed for the most part of 
 fourteen weeks ; and, in that interval, was at 
 the province-meeting at Clonmell, where she 
 had extraordinary service. From thence got 
 to the county of Carlow, and to the house of 
 our friend Robert Lecky ; whilst there, some 
 expressions, which she uttered in an affecting 
 manner, were taken down in writing, and are 
 as follow. 
 
 The 7th of the fifth month 1755, Elizabeth 
 Ashbridge, being sorely afflicted with pain of 
 body, expressed her fear of not being patient 
 enough under it, but several times desired it, 
 saying, " O dearest goodness, grantme patience 
 
57 
 till my change come, and then enable me ; and 
 do not forsake me, Lord of my life." And, 
 speaking of what she had suffered, said," words 
 could not express,nor thoughts conceive, what 
 she had gone through these seven months ; for 
 what cause the Lord only knew." Although it 
 had been so with her, yet she would not have 
 any be discouraged, u for hermaster" ( she said) 
 " was a good master, and she did not grudge 
 suffering for him ; though he chastises his 
 children, it is for some good end ; sometimes 
 for their own, and sometimes for the good of 
 others.'* And said, " she did not repent com- 
 ing into this nation, though she was so tried, 
 being satisfied she was in her place, and that 
 it was the requirings of him who had suppor- 
 ted her to a miracle : and now it looked as if 
 two poor weak women were sent to lay down 
 their lives in the cause of truth :" Or to this 
 purpose ; (her companion Sarah Worral having 
 departed this life at Cork a short time before) 
 " and as many faithful servants had been suf- 
 ferers in this land, as they were not the first, 
 she thought they would not be the last." She 
 mentioned something of its lying heavy on the 
 inhabitants thereof, if there was not an amend- 
 ment. But for those that had put their hands 
 to the plough, she desired such might go on 
 
58 
 
 with courage, and said, " God was on their 
 bide ; and that it was happy for those who 
 had remembered their creator in their youth." 
 
 Another time, when in extreme pain, she 
 cried out, w Lord, look down upon me;" and 
 begged, "that patience, her old companion, 
 might not leave her;" and said, " although 
 pain of body was her portion at present, 
 through the mercies of a gracious God her 
 mind was pretty easy." Though sometimes 
 she feared she was not quite fitted for that 
 glorious mansion which she aimed at, and 
 into which nothing that is unholy can enter; 
 yet had a hope it was not in wrath she was 
 chastised, for she had to acknowledge, " she 
 felt the touches of divine love to her soul:" 
 and said, " she loved the truth, and those that 
 loved it were precious to her life, whether 
 relations or others ; and that she had sought 
 it from her youth, and was thankful for being 
 preserved so, as not to bring a blemish on it, 
 since she made profession thereof, but had 
 done what she could for it." 
 
 A friend taking leave of her, she told him, 
 " Whether he heard of her life or death, she 
 hoped it would be well." Some friends being 
 with her, she said something of the singularity 
 of her trials, but that " the hand that permit- 
 
59 
 
 ted them, had an indisputable right ;" to which 
 she seemed resigned, whether in li:e or death, 
 hoping it would be well. She said, " she ioved 
 the truth, and it had been her support ;" and 
 desired those, that had begun to walk in it, 
 " to keep close to it, and it would never leave 
 them." 
 
 She seemed thankful, " that the beauty of 
 this world, and the enjoyments of it, were 
 stained in her view, and she made willing to 
 give up all ; the hardest was her dear husband, 
 being so far from him ; but even that was 
 made easier than she could expect." Being 
 wished a good night's rest ; she said, " she 
 did not expect to be free from pain, but that 
 every night, that the Lord sent, was good ; 
 and, though uneasy, hoped they all would be 
 good nights, and when once the gulph was 
 shot, she should have rest." 
 
 Speaking to a friend, she said, " she endea» 
 voured to live without a will ; and that she 
 hoped she had born her afflictions with a 
 degree of Christian fortitude." Being in great 
 pain, and asked, whether she would be settled ? 
 she said, " None could settle her but one ; and 
 in his own time, she hoped, he would :" Then 
 cried out, "Dearest Lord, though thou slay 
 me, I will die at thy feet; for I have loved 
 
60 
 thee more than life." She spoke affectionately 
 to a friend that visited her, gratefully acknow- 
 ledging the care and tenderness shewn to 
 her, and counted it a high favour, that the 
 hearts of her friends were opened to receive 
 and sympathize witli her. She spoke some- 
 thing of the exercises of mind she went 
 through before her convincement, and the 
 time she got relief out of great distress, and 
 was enabled to make covenant with the Lord ; 
 " which time she still remembered, and hoped 
 she should never forget, being desirous often 
 to return to Bethel, and to remember the time 
 of her espousals." She acknowledged the 
 advantage there was "in being deeply tried, and 
 that it was the way to be enabled to speak 
 comfortably to others. " 
 
 Having grown weaker for several days, she 
 departed this life, in a quiet frame, the 1 6th 
 of the fifth month 1755, and on the 19th her 
 corps (accompanied by many friends) was 
 conveyed, in a solemn manner, from our friend 
 Robert Lecky's to Friends Burying Ground 
 at Ballybrumhill, where several testimonies 
 were born to the truth.— Thus our dear friend 
 finished her course. 
 
 i'unted by John Adatm, 
 
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