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So, by and by came the constable with his black staff. Edward, being busy with the people, seemed not to mind; at length Edward looked up, and asked the constable, “Whether he had anything to say to him?" He answered, “Yes, for he was come to require him to depart out of their town, or else he must execute the law upon him;" which was, to whip him out of town. Edward replied, “He would stay till he had done that for which he came, and then he would not stay, though they should hire him. And as for thy law, thou mayest execute it,” said he, “if thou wilt; but thou wert best to take heed what thou dost, for the king hath lately sent over to the rulers in New England, to charge them, that they inflict no more sufferings upon such as I am." So the constable kept quiet till he had done, and then Edward departed their town. These professors were more inhospitable than the Gadarenes. And this is Priest Shove's entertaining of strangers, contrary to that of the apostle, who saith, “Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”—Heb. xiii. 2. And, because I am upon the foot of entertaining strangers, it will not be' amiss to show in one instance more, to what hath been already inserted, the barbarous inhumanity of your law, even to the inhabitants and housekeepers in your own colony.
Soon after Edward Wharton had received his sentence of banishment, it came into his heart to go into the northern parts of New England, and there to visit a people of little cr no profession, viz., such as by the loud professors were accounted as outcasts from all good government of church and state; who having escaped the danger of being apprehended in the several towns, by the professors, as he passed through, he came to Saco, where having been kindly treated, and having staid with them a little time, he passed along the sea-coast to Black. Point, and from thence to Casco Bay, where from coast to coast these outcasts received him and his testimony with gladness; so, after a few days, he faced towards Boston again, which put great trouble on the tender people, who parted with him in tears, with a sense of what he might meet with as to his life. Here was tenderness from
the Samaritans, so accounted, whilst the Jews, those who stood in that nature that put Christ to death, were in a manner seeking his life. So, in the fear of the Lord he passed on, and came near to the place called Black Point, where, by the order of one called Sir Henry Josslin, he was, in danger to be apprehended, but was not; but on he went, and having waded through the dangerous rivers, came to a town on Cape Porpoise, where having heard of no house of entertainment, he was sent to a professor's house, who was newly come to their town, but when he came, the man perceiving what he was, would not receive him, but showed him a house, where, he said, he might be entertained; but the people told Edward, “That it was the constable's house." So Edward, seeing his treachery, notwithstanding it was night, and that he was wet, weary, and hungry, rather than fall into their hands, turned back a mile or more into the wilderness, to an old man's house near the sea, and knocked at the door and desired some entertainment for his money; the old man took him in, and refreshed him with such as he had; and on the morrow, the man's wife went early to look to her cattle, and meeting with the aforesaid professor, he asked her, “If a stranger lodged not at her house that night?” The woman simply told him, “There did." “He is a Quaker," said the professor, "and there will be five pounds fine for you to pay for entertaining him.” So, before the woman came in, Edward had discovered himself and his principles to the man; but in came the woman, in haste to tell the man what the professor had said; so, after a little space, the woman was calm and content; and her husband said, “It was the truth that was testified;?' “and, Friend,” said he, “although I may suffer for entertaining of you now, yet whenever you come this way, call in, for you shall be welcome;" and so Edward and honest old Stephen Batson and his wife parted.
But see the difference, again, between the Jew and the Samaritan. As Edward was travelling upon the sandy beach by the ocean side, as he looked back, he saw a man making haste after him; but Edward keeping a good pace got his turn over the ferry before him, and went into the ferry-man's house; and notwithstanding the dread of the law, the woman having some tenderness of bowels towards Edward, because they knew one another, from the time they were children in England, she told her husband, “That she would show kindness to her countryman." So, they spying a man coming apace to the ferry, the man's wife had Edward into a room and set meat before him. So the professor came over and entered into the house, and asked, “Whether there was not a stranger came over the ferry before him ?" "Yes,” said they, “but he went his way.” Away went the man to the next town, called Wells, and Edward followed after, and in the evening came to Wells, to a friendly man's house, who adventured to lodge him in his barn; and in the morning he passed to Piscataqua, and so, through all that would evil-entreat him in his way, got safe to Salem. But as he was on his way from Piscataqua River, home to Salem, at the point called Bloody Point, he came to a place called Greenland, and night approaching, he went to one Samuel Hains' house and desired of him and his wife, entertainment for his money. Samuel told him, “He did not use to take money of people for his victuals;" to which Edward replied, “If thou wilt entertain me, I shall pay thee for it." Samuel demanded his name. Edward told him. Samuel said, “He should entertain none such as he was.” “What hast thou to lay to my charge?" said Edward. Samuel replied, “He was of those that disowned godly magistrates and ministers.” Edward declared to him the contrary; whereupon he suffered him to eat in his house, but would not let him lodge therein that night, a thing which the Indians never denied him, and told Edward, “He was sorry that he asked his name.” So he pulling out a shilling, the woman seemed to refuse to take it. Edward said, “I have promised to pay, and must not falsify my word with thee.” So he laid down the money, and desired a firebrand to be given him, that therewith he might kindle a fire in the woods, it being rainy, and the ravening wolves having made a loud howling a little before him; the night being also very dark, and so dangerous travelling in the wilderness; this they seemed unwilling to do, but at last gave him one; and as he was travelling in the dark and rain, he chanced to
fall over an old tree which lay in the way, upon which the sparks of the brand fell abroad, upon the sight whereof, a dog came out of a house a pretty way off, and the dog was fierce, which occasioned the man of the house to come out, and demanded, “Who went there?" Edward said, “A friend.” “Whither are ye bound ?” said he. Edward replied, “ To Hampton.” The man said, “ It was too dark, and he would lose himself." And further said, “That if he would go to his house, and accept of a hard bed, he should be welcome.” Edward gladly received his love, and, after a time, the man had him to bed, in which being well refreshed, Edward in the morning acknowledged the man's kindness, and so departed. This man was no professor.
Had Paul found no better entertainment among the barbarous Melitans, than Edward and the people of the Lord had among the professors of New England, he had neither been favoured by them, nor had the miracles been done, viz., the viper that came out of the sticks, shook into the fire; nor Publius the chief man of the island made courteous; nor Paul, nor his companions, laden with many honours. But this generation, who are not ashamed, nor do they blush, outstrip Cretans and Indians, and all the known habitable world, all things considered, in such cruelties as these.
Awhile after Edward Wharton had received the priest's entertainment at Taunton, Edward and George Preston, Mary Tomkins, and Alice Ambrose, alias Gary, passed eastward to visit the seed of God in those parts; and in their way through Newbury, they went into the house of one John Emery, a friendly man, who with his wife seemed gladly to receive them, at whose house they found freedom to stay all night; and when the next morning came, Thomas Parker the priest, and many of his followers, came to the man's house, and there was much reasoning and dispute about Truth; but the priest and many of the people's ears were shut against the Truth. And in the time of their discourse, the wind striving in Mary Tomkins' stomach and making some noise, she having received no sustenance for the space of near fortyeight hours, one John Pyke, after they were departed the town, said, “She had a devil in her.” After a while, the priest, perceiving that the battle might be too hard for him, rose up, and took the man of the house and his wife out of doors with him, and began to deal with them for entertaining such dangerous people. They replied, “ They were required to entertain strangers.” The priest said, “That it was dangerous entertaining such as had plague sores upon them.” Which the women hearing, began to take the priest to account, for saying such false, wicked, and malicious words; but he hasted away. Mary called to him to come back again, and not to show himself to be one of those hirelings, that flee and leave their flocks behind them; but he would not turn; and after a while, most of the people departed. And when Ipswich Court came thither, John Emery was had and fined for entertaining the Quakers.
Yet one or two more priests at Boston, whitherto I am come again, and then I shall end this interchangeable progress up and down the country, and pitch at something that may peculiarly relate either to particular places by themselves, or to particular persons; for into this kind of rhapsody I am in a manner constrained, because the suffering and propagation of the truth were after this manner distributed through the country.
And to this let me add a cruel tragedy of a woman and her two sons, of Marblehead near Salem, viz., Elizabeth Nicholson, and Christopher and Joseph Nicholson, whom you without ground charged with the death of Edmund Nicholson, her husband, and their father, who was found dead in the sea; you having received information from some wicked spirits, like yourselves, that the people did show love sometimes to the people of the Lord, whom you call “Cursed Quakers;" your rage soon grew high against them, and into your butcher's cab at Boston, you soon had all three of them from their house and goods, which in the mean time were in danger to be robbed, spoiled, and devoured, whilst you had them in prison; and from the prison you had them to the bar, to try them for their lives, upon suspicion of having a hand in the death of Edmund, aforesaid; but, notwithstanding all your cunning and subtle malice, to destroy the mother and