Leaving Shrewsbury, as this church is referred to in our records, we wended our way southward until we came to a place on the west shore of Barnegat Bay, almost directly opposite the outlet of this beautiful bay into the ocean. Here was another settlement of New England Sabbatarians, who were known as "Rogerines," a band of about twenty-one persons. They received us with open arms and we were most hospitably entertained by Brother John Culver—the most prominent among the Rogerines—who had made several visits to Amwell and to Ephrata and upon whose earnest invitation we had come to Barnegat. These good people looked upon us as holy men, so that they brought their sick to us in the hope that they might be healed by the very laying on of hands and prayer, as our Rogerine brethren used no medicines nor would they employ physicians, relying upon strictly scriptural means for relief from illness. While we agreed not on all doctrinal points, still in so much of our manner of life and belief we were in such perfect accord that our stay was exceedingly refreshing to our souls, and it was through these good people as much as anything else we extended our visit to New England, stopping on our way to visit one John Lovell, an old Pythagorean, who lived as a hermit in the dense woods about four miles from Burlington, throughout the seasons, without fire, in a cell made by the side of an old log, in the form of an oven, not high enough or long enough to stand upright in or lie extended.
I mean not to be harsh or unjust to this surly hermit, who lived more like a beast than man, but in his boyish straightness of speech Sonnlein spoke out full well what was in my mind and I doubt not in my brethren's also when he said, "Brother Lovell hath his soul from a pig or else would he not be so dirty," for we did not believe that our Lord any more than mortal man cared to look upon dirty, sour faces. We held that a contented mind showed itself in a bright, cheerful face, and thus it was our habit at Ephrata, with both Brother and Sister, always to be satisfied and to bear ever a glad countenance, even though the bitterness of death were upon us, and for this we have the Scriptures.
CHAPTER XVII
IN A STRANGE LAND
Oct. 10, 1744. I went to John Bolles to see 4 men Yt come from beyond Barnegat, with long beards 8 or 9 inches, and strangely clothed, no hats and all in white, but they were not there.—Extract from diary of Joshua Hempstead, of New London.
From the hermit's hut we proceeded to New Brunswick, and by good fortune found, as though especially waiting for us, a vessel about to sail for New England. Our journey thus far had been mainly among friends; but now, even though we had a letter of introduction from our Barnegat brethren to the Rogerines in New London, we could not with all our faith and fortitude repress the dismal forebodings of trials and persecutions we should encounter there on account of our beliefs—all except Sonnlein, to whom this pilgrimage was full of marvel and delight, and now that he was about to go out upon the sea his joy knew no bounds, for verily he was born under Pisces.
But having put our hands to the helm we would not look back, and Brother Onesimus having secured passage for us we set sail, and barring that our good prior was most wretchedly seasick all of the voyage, while Sonnlein was sick but the first day, when he would have neither food nor physic, we landed near New London in less than a fortnight, safe and sound, hundreds of miles from home, in a strange country, no friends, and so despised because of our white dress and our otherwise monkish aspect that whoever saw us fled as though we were the plague.
Fortunately, our letter rescued us from much annoyance, for a prominent member of the Rogerines, Brother Bolles, hearing of our arrival came to us and on reading our letter received us affectionately and harbored us so hospitably, not far from the town, that we soon forgot our forebodings. And yet no sooner did our coming become known in New London than did a new danger arise against us, for the very day we landed the little seaport was wild with excitement over the news that France had joined issue with Spain against England. This coincidence coupled with our unusual manner and garb was too weighty a proof to be disregarded that we were Jesuit priests, French spies in disguise. Forthwith officers presented themselves at the quiet little homestead of our Brother Bolles, arrested us, and marched us into New London, and had all the threats hurled at us by the excited inhabitants while on our way to the justices been executed, we had been undone.
Happily our host, a respectable and influential citizen, personally vouched that we were Protestants by birth and profession, whereupon our freedom was at once given us, and we were once more taken in charge by the Rogerines of New London, by whom we were so held in kindness and esteem that whenever we stirred abroad we had in our train no less than fifty persons, among them black men—of whom Sonnlein was sore afraid, never having seen human beings of such color—and Indians, the former being servants, and for whose spiritual welfare their masters were as solicitous as of their own, which thing we much admired.