“Your unworthy friend,
“R. W.
“Sir, my loving respects to Mr. Stone, Mr. Lord, Mr. Allen, Mr. Webster, and other loving friends.”
“To my honored, kind friend, Mr. Winthrop, Governor of Connecticut, these presents.
“Providence, 8, 7, 60 (so called.)
“Sir,
“A sudden warning gives me but time of this abrupt salutation to your kind self and Mrs. Winthrop, wishing you peace. I promised to a neighbor, a former servant of your father’s, (Joshua Windsor,) to write a line, on his behalf, and at his desire, unto you. His prayer to you is, that when you travel toward Boston, you would please to come by Providence, and spare one hour to heal an old sore,—a controversy between him and most of his neighbors, in which, I am apt to think, he hath suffered some wrong. He hath promised to submit to your sentence. His opposite, one James Ashton, being desired by me to nominate also, he resolves also to submit to your sentence, which will concern more will and stomach than damage; for the matter only concerns a few poles of ground, wherein Joshua hath cried out of wrong these many years. I hope, Sir, the blessed Lord will make you a blessed instrument of chiding the winds and seas; and I shall rejoice in your presence amongst us. There are greater ulcers in my thoughts at present, which, I fear, are incurable, and that it hath pleased the Most Wise and Most High to pass an irrevocable sentence of amputations and cauterizations upon the poor Protestant party. The clouds gather mighty fast and thick upon our heads from all the Popish quarters. It hath pleased the Lord to glad the Romish conclave with the departure of those two mighty bulwarks of the Protestants, Oliver and Gustavus; to unite, (I think by this time) all the Catholic kings and princes, for Portugal was like, very like, of late, to return to the yoke of Spain, whose treasure from the Indies it hath pleased God to send home, so wonderfully great and rich this year, that I cannot but fear the Lord hath some mighty work to effect with it. We know the Catholic King was in debt, but he now overflows with millions, which God is most like to expend against the Protestants or the Turks, the two great enemies, (the sword-fish and the thrasher) against the Popish leviathan. The Presbyterian party in England and Scotland is yet very likely to make some struggle against the Popish invasions; and yet in the end I fear (as long I have feared, and long since told Oliver, to which he much inclined,) the bloody whore is not yet drunk enough with the blood of the saints and witnesses of Jesus. One cordial is, (amongst so many the merciful Lord hath provided) that that whore will shortly appear so extremely loathsome, in her drunkenness, bestialities, &c. that her bewitched paramours will tear her flesh, and burn her with fire unquenchable. Here is a sound that Fairfax, and about two hundred of the House with him, differ with the King. The merciful Lord fit us to hear and feel more. It is a very thick and dreadful mist and swamp, with which the Lord hath a great while suffered us to labor in, as hoping to wade out, break through, and escape shipwreck. In Richard Protector’s Parliament, they fell into three factions presently: royalists, protectorians, (which were most Presbyterian, and earned it,) and commonwealth’s men. The Presbyterians, when General Monk brought in the secluded members, carried it again, of late, clearly, and so vigorously against the Papists, that stricter laws than ever. There must surely, then, be great flames, before the King can accomplish his engagements to the Popish party.
“You know well, Sir, at sea, the first entertainment of a storm is with, down with top-sails. The Lord mercifully help us to lower, and make us truly more and more low, humble, contented, thankful for the least crumbs of mercy. But the storm increaseth, and trying with our mainsails and mizzens will not do. We must, therefore, humbly beg patience from the Father of Lights and God of all mercies, to lay at Hull, in hope. It was a motto in one of the late Parliaments: cornets, under a shower of blood. ‘Transibit.’
“Sir, my neighbor, Mrs. Scott, is come from England; and, what the whip at Boston could not do, converse with friends in England, and their arguments, have, in a great measure drawn her from the Quakers, and wholly from their meetings. Try the spirits. There are many abroad, and must be, but the Lord will be glorious, in plucking up whatever his holy hand hath not planted. My brother runs strongly to Origen’s notion of universal mercy at last, against an eternal sentence. Our times will call upon us for thorough discussions. The fire is like to try us. It is a wonderful mercy the barbarians are yet so quiet. A portion of our neighbors are just now come home, re infecta. The Mohegans would not sally, and the Narragansets would not spoil the corn, for fear of offending the English. The Lord mercifully guide the councils of the commissioners. Mr. Arnold, Mr. Brenton, and others, struggle against your interest at Narraganset; but I hope your presence might do much good amongst us in a few days.
“Sir, I am, unworthy, yours,