I had not one penny of money about me, nor indeed elsewhere; for my father, so soon as he saw that I would be a Quaker, took from me both what money I had and everything of value, or that would have made money, as some plate, buttons, rings, &c., pretending that he would keep them for me till I came to myself again, lest I should destroy them.
But as I had no money, so being among my friends I had no need of any, nor ever hankered after it; though once upon a particular occasion I had liked to have wanted it. The case was this:
I had been at Reading, and set out from thence on the first day of the week, in the morning, intending to reach (as in point of time I well might) Isaac Penington’s, where the meeting was to be that day; but when I came to Maidenhead, a thoroughfare town on the way, I was stopped by the watch for riding on that day.
The watchman, laying hold on the bridle, told me I must go with him to the constable; and accordingly I, making no resistance, suffered him to lead my horse to the constable’s door. When we were come there the constable told me I must go before the warden, who was the chief officer of that town, and bade the watchman bring me on, himself walking before.
Being come to the warden’s door, the constable knocked, and desired to speak with Mr. Warden. He thereupon quickly coming to the door the constable said: “Sir, I have brought a man here to you whom the watch took riding through the town.” The warden was a budge old man; and I looked somewhat big too, having a good gelding under me, and a good riding-coat on my back, both which my friend Isaac Penington had kindly accommodated me with for that journey.
The warden therefore taking me to be (as the saying is) somebody, put off his hat and made a low congee to me; but when he saw that I sat still, and neither bowed to him nor moved my hat, he gave a start, and said to the constable: “You said you had brought a man, but he don’t behave like a man.”
I sat still upon my horse and said not a word, but kept my mind retired to the Lord, waiting to see what this would come to.
The warden then began to examine me, asking me whence I came and whither I was going; I told him I came from Reading and was going to Chalfont. He asked me why I did travel on that day; I told him I did not know that it would give any offence barely to ride or to walk on that day, so long as I did not carry or drive any carriage or horses laden with burthens. “Why,” said he, “if your business was urgent, did you not take a pass from the mayor of Reading?”—“Because,” replied I, “I did not know nor think I should have needed one.”—“Well,” said he, “I will not talk with you now, because it is time to go to church, but I will examine you further anon.” And turning to the constable, “Have him,” said he, “to an inn, and bring him before me after dinner.”
The naming of an inn put me in mind that such public-houses were places of expense, and I knew I had no money to defray it; wherefore I said to the warden: “Before thou sendest me to an inn, which may occasion some expense, I think it needful to acquaint thee that I have no money.”
At that the warden started again, and turning quickly upon me, said: “How! no money! How can that be? You don’t look like a man that has no money.”—“However I look,” said I, “I tell thee the truth, that I have no money; and I tell it to forewarn thee, that thou mayest not bring any charge upon the town.”—“I wonder,” said he, “what art you have got, that you can travel without money; you can do more, I assure you, than I can.”