But, alas! I had fixed my studies in a wrong place. London and I could never agree for health; my lungs, as I suppose, were too tender to bear the sulphurous air of that city, so that I soon began to droop; and in less than two months’ time I was fain to leave both my studies and the city, and return into the country to preserve life; and much ado I had to get thither.
I chose to go down to Wycombe, and to John Rance’s house there; both as he was a physician, and his wife an honest, hearty, discreet, and grave matron, whom I had a very good esteem of, and who I knew had a good regard for me.
There I lay ill a considerable time, and to that degree of weakness that scarce any who saw me expected my life. But the Lord was both gracious to me in my illness, and was pleased to raise me up again, that I might serve him in my generation.
As soon as I had recovered so much strength as to be fit to travel, I obtained of my father (who was then at his house in Crowell, to dispose of some things he had there, and who in my illness had come to see me) so much money as would clear all charges in the house, for both physic, food, and attendance; and having fully discharged all, I took leave of my friends in that family and in the town, and returned to my studies at London.
I was very kindly received by my master, who had conceived so good an opinion of me that my conversation, I found, was acceptable to him, and he seemed heartily glad of my recovery and return; and into our old method of study we fell again, I reading to him, and he explaining to me, as occasion required.
But as if learning had been a forbidden fruit to me, scarce was I well settled in my work before I met with another diversion, which turned me quite out of my work.
For a sudden storm arising, from I know not what surmise of a plot, and thereby danger to the government, and the meetings of Dissenters—such I mean as could be found, which perhaps were not many besides the Quakers—were broken up throughout the city, and the prisons mostly filled with our friends.
I was that morning, which was the 26th day of the eighth month, 1662, at the meeting at the Bull and Mouth, by Aldersgate, when on a sudden a party of soldiers (of the trained bands of the city) rushed in, with noise and clamour, being led by one who was called Major Rosewell, an apothecary, if I misremember not, and at that time under the ill name of a Papist.
As soon as he was come within the room, having a file or two of musketeers at his heels, he commanded his men to present their muskets at us, which they did, with intent, I suppose, to strike a terror into the people. Then he made a proclamation that all who were not Quakers might depart if they would.
It so happened that a young man, an apprentice in London, whose name was — Dove, the son of Dr. Dove, of Chinner, near Crowell, in Oxfordshire, came that day in curiosity to see the meeting, and coming early, and finding me there (whom he knew), came and sat down by me.