Here the younger constable, whose name was Cherry, interposing, said: “Mr. Warden, the gentleman is in the right as to that, for this is the first day of the week, and not the seventh.”
This the old warden took in dudgeon, and looking severely on the constable, said: “What! do you take upon you to teach me? I’ll have you know I will not be taught by you.”—“As you please for that, sir,” said the constable; “but I am sure you are mistaken in this point; for Saturday I know is the seventh day, and you know yesterday was Saturday.”
This made the warden hot and testy, and put him almost out of all patience, so that I feared it would have come to a downright quarrel betwixt them, for both were confident and neither would yield; and so earnestly were they engaged in the contest, that there was no room for me to put in a word between them.
At length the old man, having talked himself out of wind, stood still awhile as it were to take breath, and then bethinking himself of me, he turned to me and said: “You are discharged, and may take your liberty to go about your occasions.”—“But,” said I, “I desire my horse may be discharged too, else I know not how to go.”—“Ay, ay,” said he, “you shall have your horse;” and turning to the other constable, who had not offended him, he said: “Go, see that his horse be delivered to him.”
Away thereupon went I with that constable, leaving the old warden and the young constable to compose their difference as they could. Being come to the inn, the constable called for my horse to be brought out; which done, I immediately mounted, and began to set forward. But the hostler, not knowing the condition of my pocket, said modestly to me: “Sir, don’t you forget to pay for your horse’s standing?”—“No, truly,” said I, “I don’t forget it; but I have no money to pay it with, and so I told the warden before.”—“Well, hold your tongue,” said the constable to the hostler; “I’ll see you paid.” Then opening the gate, they let me out, the constable wishing me a good journey, and through the town I rode without further molestation; though it was as much sabbath, I thought, when I went out as it was when I came in.
A secret joy arose in me as I rode on the way, for that I had been preserved from doing or saying anything which might give the adversaries of truth advantage against it, or the friends of it; and praises sprang in my thankful heart to the Lord, my preserver.
It added also not a little to my joy that I felt the Lord near unto me, by his witness in my heart, to check and warn me; and my spirit was so far subjected to him as readily to take warning, and stop at his check; an instance of both that very morning I had.
For as I rode between Reading and Maidenhead I saw lying in my way the scabbard of a hanger, which, having lost its hook, had slipped off, I suppose, and dropped from the side of the wearer; and it had in it a pair of knives, whose hafts being inlaid with silver, seemed to be of some value. I alighted and took it up, and clapping it between my thigh and the saddle, rode on a little way; but I quickly found it too heavy for me, and the reprover in me soon began to check. The word arose in me, “What hast thou to do with that? Doth it belong to thee?” I felt I had done amiss in taking it; wherefore I turned back to the place where it lay, and laid it down where I found it. And when afterwards I was stopped and seized on at Maidenhead, I saw there was a Providence in not bringing it with me; which, if it should have been found (as it needs must) under my coat when I came to be unhorsed, might have raised some evil suspicion or sinister thoughts concerning me.
The stop I met with at Maidenhead had spent me so much time that when I came to Isaac Penington’s the meeting there was half over, which gave them occasion after meeting to inquire of me if anything had befallen me on the way which had caused me to come so late: whereupon I related to them what exercise I had met with, and how the Lord had helped me through it: which when they had heard, they rejoiced with me, and for my sake.
Great was the love and manifold the kindness which I received from these my worthy friends, Isaac and Mary Penington, while I abode in their family. They were indeed as affectionate parents and tender nurses to me in this time of my religious childhood. For besides their weighty and seasonable counsels and exemplary conversations, they furnished me with means to go to the other meetings of Friends in that country, when the meeting was not in their own house. And indeed, the time I stayed with them was so well spent, that it not only yielded great satisfaction to my mind but turned in good measure to my spiritual advantage in the truth.