Autobiography of a Cornish Smuggler

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY
OF
A CORNISH SMUGGLER

(CAPTAIN HARRY CARTER, OF PRUSSIA COVE)
1749-1809

WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES
BY
JOHN B. CORNISH

Second Edition.

London:
GIBBINGS & CO., LTD., 18 BURY STREET, W.C.
J. POLLARD, TRURO, PENZANCE, & FALMOUTH.
1900.

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WILLIAM BYLES AND SONS, PRINTERS,
129 FLEET STREET, LONDON,
AND BRADFORD.

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INTRODUCTION.

The existence of the Autobiography which is published in the following pages came to my knowledge in the course of a chance conversation with a distant relative of the writer's family. The original manuscript has been carefully preserved, and has been for many years in the possession of Mr. G. H. Carter, of Helston. He received it from his father, the G. Carter mentioned on page 1, who was a nephew of Harry Carter himself. The memoir of the writer, which will be found in the "Wesleyan Methodist Magazine" for October, 1831, was based upon information supplied by G. Carter, partly from the manuscript and partly from his own knowledge. It is now printed from the manuscript which was kindly lent to me for the purpose by Mr. G. H. Carter.

The part of Cornwall to which the autobiography chiefly relates is the district lying between the two small towns of Marazion and Helston, a distance of about ten miles on the north-eastern shores of Mounts Bay, comprising the parishes of Breage, Germoe, St. Hilary, and Perranuthnoe. The bay is practically divided into two parts by Cuddan Point, a sharp small headland about two miles east from St. Michael's Mount. The western part runs into the land in a roughly semicircular shape, and is so well sheltered that it has almost the appearance of a lake, in fact, the extreme north-western corner is called Gwavas Lake. From the hills which surround it the land everywhere slopes gently to the sea, and is thickly inhabited. The towns of Penzance and Marazion and the important fishing village of Newlyn occupy a large portion of the shore, and around them are woody valleys and well cultivated fields. To the eastward of Cuddan is a marked contrast. There, steep and rocky cliffs are only broken by two long stretches of beach, Pra Sand and the Looe Bar, on which the great seas which come always from the Atlantic make landing impossible except on a few rare summer days. With the exception of the little fishing station of Porthleven there is not a place all along the coast from Cuddan Point to the Lizard large enough to be called a village. Inland the country is in keeping with the character of the coast. Trees are very scarce, and the stone hedges, so characteristic of all the wild parts of West Cornwall, the patches of moorland, and the scattered cottages, make the whole appearance bare and exposed.

Porth Leah, or the King's Cove, now more usually known as Prussia Cove,[1] around which so much of the interest of the narrative centres, lies a little to the eastward of Cuddan Point. There are really two coves divided from one another by a point and a small island called the "Enez." The western cove, generally called "Bessie's Cove," is a most sheltered and secluded place. It is so well hidden from the land that it is impossible to see what boats are lying in the little harbour until one comes down to the very edge of the cliff. The eastern side of the point, where there is another small harbour called the "King's Cove," is more open, but the whole place is thoroughly out of the world even now.

The high road from Helston through Marazion to Penzance now passes about a mile from the sea, but at the time of which Harry Carter was writing this district must have been unknown and almost inaccessible. From all accounts West Cornwall at that time was very little more than half civilised. The mother of Sir Humphry Davy (born at Penzance, 1778) has left us a record that when she was a girl "West Cornwall was without roads, there was only one cart in the town of Penzance, and packhorses were in use in all the country districts" (Bottrell, iii. 150). This is confirmed by a writer in the "Gentleman's Magazine," who says that in 1754 there were no roads in this district, the ways that served the purpose were merely bridle paths "remaining as the deluge left them and dangerous to travel over" ("Gentleman's Magazine," October, 1754); and by the official records of the town of Penzance, which show that in 1760 the Corporation went to some expense in opposing the extension of the turnpike beyond Marazion, to which place it was then first carried from Penryn (Millett's "Penzance, Past and Present").

The places of which the names are mentioned in the autobiography, but which are not shown in the map, such as Rudgeon, Trevean, Caerlean, Pengersick, Kenneggey, and Rinsey, are all in the immediate neighbourhood of Prussia Cove. They are merely little hamlets of four or five cottages each, and there is no reason to suppose that they were any larger one hundred years ago. Helston, the market town of the district, is about six miles off, and had then a population of some two thousand people.

The chief interest in the autobiography is probably that which it attracts as the most authentic account of the smuggling which was carried on in the neighbourhood in the latter portion of the last century. Cornwall has long enjoyed a certain reputation for pre-eminence in this particular form of trade, and apparently not without some reason. A series of letters of the years 1750-1753 were published some years ago in the journal of the Royal Institution of Cornwall (vol. vi. pt. xxii. p. 374, "The Lanisley Letters") to a Lieutenant-General Onslow, from George Borlase, his agent at Penzance, asking that soldiers might be stationed in the district, because "the coasts here swarm with smugglers," and mentioning that a detachment ought to be stationed at Helston, as "just on that neighbourhood lye the smugglers and wreckers more than about us, tho' there are too many in all parts of this country." In his "Natural History of Cornwall," published in 1758, Dr. Borlase regrets (p. 312) that "the people of the sea coast are, it must be owned, too much addicted to carry off our bullion to France and to bring back nothing but brandy, tea, and other luxuries." This is delicate, but there can be no doubt of his meaning; and he goes on to complain that "there is not the poorest family in any parish which has not its tea, its snuff, and tobacco, and (when they have money or credit) brandy," all, we may presume, duty free. The will of Philip Hawkins, M.P. for Grampound, who died on September 6, 1738, is perhaps the most striking record, for he actually bequeathed £600 to the king to compensate for the amount of which his tenants had defrauded the Customs.

That the smuggling prevailed to such an extent is not to be

wondered at, for the law must have had but a very slight hold on such a rough and scattered population, living so far away from any of the large centres of England. In such a narrow country too, where no one lives very far from the sea, the miners took to smuggling as readily as the fishermen. A trip to Roscoff or Guernsey formed a pleasant change after a spell on tribute underground or working stamps. A rough, reckless, and drunken lot were these tinners, and if riots and bloodshed were more scarce in West Cornwall than in some parts, it must have been due to the judicious absence of the Custom House officials, and not to any qualities in the smugglers. George Borlase says ("Lanisley Letters") that in December 1750 a Dutch ship laden with claret was wrecked near Helston, and "in twenty-four hours the tinners cleared all," the authorities apparently not daring to interfere; and that just before this date a man who went to the assistance of the revenue officers had been killed near the same place.

Beyond these I have mentioned, the literary records are very meagre, but the whole county, and especially the western part, abounds with legends. The smuggling was so universal, that every cove, and fishing village on the coast has its own stories, and everywhere the curious visitor is still shown the place where the smugglers landed their cargoes, the secret caves where they stored them, and sometimes, but not often, the places where the "officers" found them. Prussia Cove, beyond all others, has the richest store of such history. Here are little harbours cut out of the solid rock, which are now occupied by innocent fishing boats. The visitor can see a roadway partly cut and partly worn crossing the rocks below high water mark, and caves of which the mouths have been built up, and which are reputed to be connected with the house on the cliff above by secret passages.

In the legends of the Cove the personality of John Carter looms so large that his associates are almost if not entirely forgotten, and everything centres around him alone. It was he who cut the harbours and the road, it was he who adapted the caves, and he is the hero of most of the tales which are told of the good old days. One of these stories is worth recording. On one occasion, during his absence from home, the excise officers from Penzance came around in their boats and took a cargo, which had lately arrived from France, to Penzance, where it was secured in the Custom House store. In due course John Carter returned to the Cove, and learned the news. What was he to do? He explained to his comrades that he had agreed to deliver that cargo to the customers by a certain day, and his reputation as an honest man was at stake. He must keep his word. That night a number of armed men broke open the stores at Penzance, and the "King of Prussia" took his own again, returning to the Cove without being discovered. In the morning the officers found that the place had been broken open during the night. They examined the contents, and when they noted what particular things were gone, they said to one another that John Carter had been there, and they knew it, because he was an honest man who would not take anything that did not belong to him. And John Carter kept his word to his customers. The story that he once opened fire on a revenue cutter from a small battery which he had made at the Cove is well known along the coast.

It is characteristic of the history of the smugglers everywhere that they enjoyed the support of popular sympathy. This was certainly the case in West Cornwall, where the farmers, the merchants, and, it is rumoured, the local magistrates, used to find the money with which the business was carried on, investing small sums in each voyage. Harry Carter finding shelter at Marazion when the Government were offering a reward for his capture (p. 26), and the action of the unnamed "great man of the neighbourhood" on his return from America (p. 90), are perhaps the reverse of the picture which George Borlase drew for General Onslow ("Lanisley Letters"); "the countenance given to the smugglers by those whose business it is to restrain these pernicious practices, hath bro't 'em so bold and daring that nobody can venture to come near them with safety whilst they are at their work." It is difficult to avoid the conclusion that there must have been some powerful influence exerted in his favour to obtain his exchange from prison in France in 1778, and what else can we make of the commission to go privateering against the Americans. The Government had then recently passed a measure[2] to encourage privateering by authorising the Admiralty to grant commissions, and apparently English sailors were everywhere readily taking advantage of the opportunity so afforded for their enterprise.[3] But to obtain such a commission the applicant had to find the security of sureties, of whose "sufficiency" the commissioners were to satisfy themselves, and also to send in a written application specifying the ship for which the commission was asked, with full details as to the number of her guns and other matters. He surely could not have ventured to place himself in the hands of the Government in this way without a friend at Court. It certainly seems a fair inference from their popularity, their fame, and from the fact that they both rose to leading positions amongst the smugglers while still comparatively young, that Harry Carter and his brother John were superior men to the rough material of which their crews were probably composed.

The accounts of the actual smuggling in the following pages are not very elaborate, but we must remember that at the time when Harry Carter was writing (1809), John Carter and the "Cove boys" were still at it, and Prussia Cove had not yet ceased to be a great centre of smugglers. This would also explain the absence of any more particular reference to any of his companions. This reticence, which we must respect, although we may regret it, is quite compensated by the variety of his later experiences. To have been a prisoner in France during the Reign of Terror, and at a time when the Convention had decreed that no quarter should be given to an Englishman,[4] is of itself no small claim on the attention of his countrymen. From his account, which is, I believe, unique in English literature, and especially when it is compared with those of French writers, it would seem that the English, who were, of course, prisoners of war, were placed on the same footing as the "aristocrats" and "suspects," the great number of whom made it necessary to utilise the convents and even private houses as prisons. Alexandrine des Echerolles tells us ("Private life in Public Calamities") that "Bread was distributed daily to the prisoners, and their pitchers were filled every morning with fresh

water. Those who could not pay the turnkeys for their trouble got none, so the rich used to bestow alms upon the poor in this form.... Once a fortnight, I think, they were supplied with fresh straw, or what was called such, each person receiving an armful." She mentions that by degrees the prisoners managed to make themselves more comfortable by introducing tables, and chairs, and mattresses, which they were compelled to leave behind on their removal to other prisons. All this coincides very closely with Harry Carter's account, and he seems to have shared their anxiety as to the fate of his friends and the common anticipation of the guillotine.

Even this does not exhaust the interest of his life. The very first lines of his writing show the object with which he wrote. In no part of England did the teaching and influence of John Wesley obtain such a hold as in Cornwall. At the time of his first visit he speaks of the natives of this distant country as "those who neither feared God nor regarded man" ("Diary," May 17, 1743); he accuses them of wrecking and of murdering those who were washed ashore, and describes their pastimes as "hurling, at which limbs were often broken, fighting, drinking, and all other manner of wickedness." The "Lanisley Letters" contain similar charges of wrecking and murder, and Dr. Borlase confirms the statement as to their drunken habits. In 1750 Wesley mentions how greatly all these things were changed. They were, perhaps, not as much changed as he thought, but undoubtedly they were greatly improved, for it is plain fact that the whole of the moral reformation of the Cornish folk is due to him. He gained followers so rapidly in the west that at the first Methodist Conference in 1744, St. Ives is classed with London, Bristol, and Newcastle; "from this it is evident," says Dr. Smith ("Hist. of Methodism," i. 213), "that London, Bristol, St. Ives, and Newcastle were regarded as the great centres of Methodism in England at this period." At the third Conference (1746) Cornwall forms one district out of seven, while the others included in some cases four and in one case six English counties. In 1750 John Wesley ("Diary," August 18) says of St. Just, "There is still the largest society in Cornwall, and so great a proportion of believers I have not found in all the nation beside." Similar societies or classes sprang up in the most remote places, such as Rugan, or Rudgeon as it is more usually spelt now, where the society met at which Charles Carter was converted; at Trevean and Caerlean, where Harry Carter preached.

That especial characteristic of Wesley's organisation, "the local preacher," took root firmly in Cornwall from the very first. To those who are not acquainted with the county it may be necessary to explain that these laymen, earnest men of all classes, who preach, are so common in every village that they constitute a distinguishing feature in the local life. The services in the small wayside chapels which are so numerous are usually conducted by a local preacher in the intervals between the visits of the regular ministers. Those who do know Cornwall also know the importance of the local preacher in the history of the Methodist movement. John Wesley's preaching was received by the poor and uneducated, the miner, the fisherman, and the labourer, and the persecution of the clergy and the magistrates only strengthened the enthusiasm of the people for their great teacher. From such men sprang the first local preachers; preaching and exhorting not with the dull formality of men who had to do it, but with the earnestness of men who really felt that they had a message to deliver, and labouring under uncontrollable excitement they greatly impressed their hearers: while the familiarity of their persons led their audience to look upon this new teaching as a thing of their own to which they could all attain. It is impossible to doubt that the hold which the movement gained was greatly due to these men, and Harry Carter was one of them. John Wesley had set himself from the first against the smuggling which he found so prevalent; he had preached against it at several places, and had even published a pamphlet against it. We may therefore fairly suppose that Harry Carter, the great smuggler, was regarded as a most important accession to the ranks of his followers.

The autobiography ends abruptly in the year 1795, but the writer lived until April 19, 1829. The last thirty years of his life he spent at Rinsey. He lived quietly, keeping himself occupied with a small farm, and occasionally preaching in the neighbourhood. From the memoir of him in the "Wesleyan Methodist Magazine," to which I have already referred, I cull the two further facts that he retained the intensity of his religious feelings up to his death, and that he never failed in grateful recollections of James Macculloch—the Mr. M. of his French prison experiences. Of his family I can learn but little. It is said that originally they came from Shropshire, and certainly the name does not show a Cornish origin. His father, who was called Francis, was born in 1712, and died on February 28, 1774; his mother, Agnes, was born in 1714, and died in 1784. Of the eight sons and two daughters of whom he speaks, I can only trace four of the sons besides himself. Thomas, whom he does not mention, was born in 1737, and died in 1818; and John, whom he refers to as the eldest, Francis, born in 1745, and Charles, born in 1757, and died in 1803, are all mentioned in the autobiography. His daughter, Elizabeth, as far as I can learn, died while young.

In preparing the manuscript for publication I have taken the liberty of omitting some passages here and there which were simply repetitions, and which did not throw any additional light either on the narrative or his character. I have corrected all the wrong spellings which could be classed as simple mistakes, but I have carefully preserved all spellings which appeared of interest, as showing the pronunciation of the words, and especially those which illustrate the local dialect. For instance, the general preference for "a" over the other vowels, and especially in final syllables, is distinctly characteristic of West Cornwall.

In some places, particularly towards the end, the manuscript is somewhat damaged, and many of the pages have lost a portion of the lower corner. The gaps so caused I have endeavoured to fill with the words which he probably used, and such words are printed in italics. Where I have been unable to suggest the missing words, I have left blanks.

JOHN B. CORNISH.

Penzance, 1900.

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[Pg xxvi]
[Pg 1]

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A CORNISH SMUGGLER.

As it have been imprest upon my mind for sevral years to take a memorandum of the kind dealings of God to my soul, in particular these laste two or three years, I have been persuaded by sevral of my friends, in particular Mr. Wormsley and Geo. Carter. I have thought in general it would be so weak that no person of sense would ever publish it to the world, notwithstanding, this morning being 20 of Decr. 1809, I have taken up my pen, and may the Lord bring past things to my remembrance just[5] as they are, and if published to the world, may the Lord make it a blessing to every soul that

class="x-ebookmaker-pageno" title="[Pg 2]"/> read and hear it for Christ's sake, amen, amen.

I have made sevral remarks at difrante times in years past of sume particular things of my experience for my own amusement, then thinking for no person ever to see it but myself only; and as I have made a general rule more or less for sevral years to have had fixed times to sit in silence to trace my whole life from 8 or 9 years of age, in particular more so since I have tasted the goodness of God, moste particular things that I have past through seems to be tolerable familiar to me.

I was born in the year of 1749 in Pengersick, in the parish of Breage, in the County of Cornwall. My mother had ten children, eight sons and two daghturs, eight of whom lived to maturity. My father was a miner—likewayse rented a little farm of about 12l. pr year—who was a hard labring man, and brought up his family in what we caled[6] decent poverty. My oldest and youngest brothers were brought up to good country scolars, but the rest of my brothers with myself, as soon as we was able, obliged to work in order to contribute a little to help to support a large family, so that I never was keept to scool but only to read in what we caled then the great Book. As for our Religion, we were brought up like the rest of our neighbours, to say some prayers after we were in the bed, and to go to Church on particular times as occasion sarv'd us. When I was aboute 8 or 9 years old, my brother Francis was aboute four years older than me. He joined the methodist society in Rudgeon,[7] soon after found peace with God, and as him and me was moste times sleeping and waking together he revealed himself unto me, told me the place and time he received the Comfarter. I seeing such very great chainge upon him, as before time he was a very active boy, I farmely believed the report. From that time I farmley believed that except I was born again I should in no case see the kingdom of God, so that convictions followed me sharp and often, sumetimes constrained to weep bitterly. But alas! as I grew up they went fewer[8] and fainter. Aboute 9 or 10 years old went to work to stamps, and continued there until 15 or 16. I worked to bal,[9] as I think, until I was aboute 17, and from thence went with my two oldest brothers to Porthleah[10] or the King's Cove afishing and smuggling, and I think aboute 18 or 19 went at times, with Folston[11] people and sumetimes with Irish, as supercargo, whom we freighted. Before this time I larned to write, and so far so, that I would keep my own accounts.

I think I might have been aboute 25 when I went in a small sloop, about 16 or 18[12] tons, with two men beside myself, asmuggling, where I had very great success; and after a while I had a new sloop built for me, about 32 tons.[13] My success was rather beyond common, and after a time we bought a small cuttar of aboute 50 tons[14] and aboute ten men. I saild in her one year, and I suppose made more safe voyages then have been ever made since or before with any single person. So by this time I begun to think some thing of myself, convictions still following sharply at times. I allwayse had a dislike to swearing, and made a law on board, if any of the sailors should swear, was poneshed. Nevertheless my intention was not pure; I had sume byends in it, the bottom of it was only pride, etc. I wanted to be noted to be sumething out of the common way of others, still I allwayse had a dislike to hear others swearing. Well, then, I think I was counted what the world cales a good sort of man, good humoured, not proude, etc. But man is short sighted, who can disarn spirets when the heart is deceitful above all thing and desparately wicked, oftentimes burning and boiling within in a blaze of passion, though not to be seen without. Nevertheless in the meantime was capable to be guilty of outward sins the same as others of my companions, and often[15] times, when went out on a party, crying and praying to keep me from a particular sin, was often the first that was guilty of committing it. Then conchance,[16] after staring me in the face, oh what a torment within I feelt.[17] So I went on for many years sinning and repenting.

Well, then, in the cource of these few years, as we card[18] a large trade with other vessels allso, we gained a large sum of money, and being a speculating family was not satisfied with small things. Built a new cuttar, aboute 197[19] tons, then one of the first in England; expecting to make all our fortunes in a hurry. I was in her at sea in Decr. 1777, made one voyage about Christmas. Returning to Guarnsey light, sprung the bowspreat; was recommended from Guarnsey to St. Malos for a bowspreat, and for the want of Customhouse papars and proper despatchis was seized upon by the admiralty of the above place, where they unbent the sails, took them onshore, and confined us all on board with a gard of soldars as presoners, allowing two men to be on deck only at a time; likenwayse their orders was for no person to come alongside, no letters to pass or repass. But the comanding officer I soon got in his favour, that I conveyed letters onshore, and sent an express to

Guernsey, likewayse to Roscoff, when there was soon certificates sent them to certify what I was, as they stopped me under the pretence of being a pirate; their pretence nevertheless was not altogether unreasonable, I having sixteen carriage guns on board and thirty-six men without any maritime pass, or anything to show for them. Notwithstanding they certainly knew what I was. I think it was on the 30 Jan. 1778, and I think the latter end of March[20] there was an embargo laid on all English bottams. They keept me on-board with all the people until I think the 1 May, when they took me onshore in order to examine me, and about four o'clock sent with a strong gard unto the Castle. This was a strange seeing unto me, the first prison I ever saw the inside of, the hearing of so many iron doors opening, etc. So I was put up to the last floor in the top of that very high Castle, in a criminal jail, where there were a little short dirty straw, etc. So after looking round a little to see my new habitation, I asked of the jailor to send me a chair to sit on, and sumething to eat, as I took nothing for the day, then seeming to be in tolarable spirits; but as the jailor left me, hearing the rattling of the doors and the noise of the keys, I begun to reflect, where am I now? I shall shorley never come out of this place whilst the war lasts, shorley I shall die here, etc. I suppose in the course of an half hour heard the doors and keys as before for a long time before I saw any person, so in came a man with a chair, my bed, and a little soup, etc. Well, then, I sat myself down in the chair, looked at my dinner, etc., but then begun to weep bitterly. I had not loste only my liberty but the cuttar also, which was my God. My liberty was gone, my honour, my property, my life, and my God, all was gone; and all the ten thousand pounds I expected to get privateering was gone, as there was a commission sent for me against the Americans before I left home. There I walked the dismal place bewailing my sad case. But in the space of aboute two hours two or three of my people were sent to join me, and before night I think about eighteen of us, small room full. Then we begun to sing and make a noise, so that sume of my fears vanished away; hope of life sprung up, and as the Franch was such flatterers in general, a very little hope for the cuttar, etc. The remainder of the ship's company put in the town criminal jail. We was all keept in prison until aboute the 20 or 21 day of the same month, when early in the morning were took out by a strong gard of soldars, sent to Dinan prison of war, where we had then plenty of room, etc. I suppose we were aboute six or seven of us that every evening joined to sing psalms in parts, etc. But this would not satisfy me, I know there was no Religion in this at all, but one night as I was asleep, as we lay on the floor side by side, I dreamed that I heard like the voice of an angel saying unto me, "Except thou reform thy life, thou must totally be lost for ever." There was something more that he said, but I cannot now remember it. When I awaked I was in a lake, sweat from head to foot, and all my body in a tremble. Nothing but fear and horror upon my mind. The next day I passed much to myself, very serious and sad, not one smile on my countenance, but keept[21] it all to myself. Took great care to lett no person know anything of the mattar. Well, then, as Cain went to build a city in order to divert his mind, I begun to larn navigation, and so loosed my convictions little and little, that in the course of aboute a fortnight I could do the same as I formely uste to do. I think I was in prison aboute five or six weeks until my oldest brother John[22] was brought to join me, as he come to St. Malas just after I was stopped, from Guarnsey, with certificates from the Governor, etc., in order to try to liberate the cuttar and me. Well, then, this allmoste so great tryal as any, he being the head of the family, and thought the business muste come to an end at home. We was keept both in preson until, as I think, sume time in August, and was sent on parol about forty miles in a town called Josselin. However, we was keeped in difrante places in the country until I think the latter end of Novr. in 1779, when we were private exchanged by the order of the Lords of the Admiralty in the room of two French gentlemen sent to France in our room. And then to come by the way of Ostend, being, as well I can remember, aboute five hundred miles. From thence came by the way of London, and arrived at home the 24 Decr. in the same year. We found the family all alive and well, but with the loss of the cuttar, and the business not managed well at home, as my brother was then a presoner, and wanting from home aboute two years, the family in a low state. Nevertheless, he being well respected with the Guarnsey marchants, was offered credit with many of them. So went on again in freighting of large vessels, and had very good speed for sume time. I went again in the little cutter I had before, aboute 50 tuns.[23] And after making two or three voyages to the King's Cove, went with a cargo on the coast of Wales. In order to smuggle it, went onshore to sell it. Left the cuttar to anchor near the Mumbles, where an information was given to an armship called the "Three Brothers," that lay sume distance from there. And aboute that time there had been some large privateers' cuttars on that coast from Dunkirk, and had taken many prizes, manned and commanded chiefly with Irishmen. My cutter was represented to be one of them, namely, the "Black Prince," mounting sixteen guns and sixty men. I had then in the cutter about six men and three beside myself onshore. When they saw the armship coming upon them, cut the cable and went to sea; and when the ship gave up the chase from the cuttar, sent his boats onshore, took up the cutter's cable and anchor, and found me onshore. I having left my commission on board, and had nothing to show who or what I was, took me on board the ship as a pirate, and after examining me in the cabin for two or three hours, detained me as a prisoner for twelve weeks until I was cleared by my friends at home through the Lords of the Admiralty. So after I was at home some time, riding about the country getting freights, collecting money for the company, etc., etc., we bought a cuttar aboute 160 tons,[24] nineteen guns. I went in her sumetime asmuggling, and had great success. We had a new luggar built, which mounted twenty guns, and both went in company together from Guarnsey, smuggling along the coast, so that by this time I begun to think sumething of myself again. Nevertheless convictions never left me long together. But in the course of this time, being exposed to more company and sailors

of all descriptions, larned to swear at times. And once, after discharging our cargo, brought the both vessels to an anchor in Newlyn[25] Road, when we had an express sent us from St. Ives of a large cuttar privateer from Dunkirk, called the "Black Prince," had been on that coast and had taken many prizes to go out in pursuit of her. It was not a very agreeable business, notwithstanding for fear to offend the collector,[26] we put round the both vessels to St. Ives Roade, and after staying there two or three days, the same cutter hove in sight Christmas day in the morning. We not having our proper crews on board, colected a few[27] men together, and went to sea in pursuit of him. Soon come up with him, so that after a running fight for three or four hours, as we, not being half manned, and the sea very big, the shots so uncertain, the luggar received a shot that was obliged to bear up, and in the course of less then an hour after I received a shot that card of my jib, and another in the hull, that we could hardly keep her free. So that we bore up after the luggar, not knowing what was the matter of her running away. We came up with her aboute five in the evning. Desired the Captain to quitt her, but he, in hope to put her into Padstow, continued pumping and bailing until aboute six, when he hail'd me, saying, stand by him, he was going to quitt her. So that they hoisted out their boate, but the sea being so bigg and the men being confused, filled her with water, so that they could not free her nomore. I got my boat out in the meantime, sent her alongside the luggar, so that some of the men jumpt over board, and my boate pickt them up, and immediately the luggar went down. I hove to the cuttar and laid her to, that she drifted right over the place that the luggar went down, so that some of the men got on board by virtue of ropes hove from the cuttar, sume got hold of the jib tack, and sume pickt up by the cuttar's boate, so that we saved alive seventeen men and fourteen drowned. As Providence would have it was aboute the full of the moon, or certainly all must be lost. This was scene indeed. What cries! what screeches! what confusion was there! We stayed some little time there cruising aboute the place, but soon obliged to get the cuttar under a double reefed trysail, a heavy gale of wind ensuing, and bore up for the Mumbles. Now I am going to inform you of a little more of my pride and vanity, the spirit of truth had not as yet forgot to strive with me. Before we come up with the privateer, in expecting to come to an engagement, oh, what horror was upon my mind for fear of death, as I know I must come to judgment sure and sartin. If I died, I should be lost for ever. Notwithstanding all this I made the greatest outward show of bravery, and, through pride and presumption, exposed myself to the greatest danger. I stood on the companion until the wad of the enemies' shot flew in fire aboute me, and I suppose the wind of the shot struck me down on the deck as the shot took in the mainsail right in a line with me. One of my officers helpt me up, thought I was wounded, and he would not suffer me to go there nomore. This was a great salvation, and that of God, and not the only one; for all so many hundreds of shot have flyed around me, I never received somuch as a blemish in one of my fingers; but I can remember for many years before this, whenever I expected to come to an engagement, I was allwayse struck with horror of mind, knowing I was not fit to die; and since I have tasted of the goodness of God, I have thought that the greatest hero in the Army or Navy, as long as the spirit of Truth continue to strive with them, even Anson, is struck with the like feelings; and if ever I hear of a coward, I know this is the cause of it.

In the year of 19th April, 1786, I was married to Elizabeth Flindel, of Helford, in the parish of Manaccan, and in April 19, 1787, she bore me a daughter, who was called after her mother's name, and I think it was aboute midle of Novr. I went in a luggar, asmuggling, about 140[28] tons, mounting sixteen carriage guns. After making one voyage at home to the King's Cove I got a freight for Costan,[29] and as I depended on them people to look out if there were any danger, according to their promise, came into the Bay, and after sume time spoke with a boate from the above place, saying it was a clear coast, there was no danger to bring the vessel up to anchor, and we should have boats enough out to discharge all the cargo immediately. So that I brought the vessel to anchor, leaving the jib with the trysail and mizen set, and begun to make ready, opening the hatches, etc., when I saw two boats rowing up from the shore. I said to the pilot, "There is two boats acoming." He answered, "They are our boats coming to take the goods out," etc. Soon after a boat come alongside. "Do you know these is two man-o'war's boats?" We immediately cutt the cable, and before the luggar gathered headway were right under the starn. They immediately cutt off the mizen sheet, and with a musket-shot shot off the trysal tack and boarded us over the starn. My people having sume muskets, dropt them down and went below. I knowing nothing of that, thought that all would stand by me. I begun to engage them as well as I could without anything in my hands, as they took us in surprise so suddenly, I having my great coat on buttoned aboute me, I seeing none of my people, only one man at the helm; and when they saw no person to oppose them, turned upon me with their broad swords, and begun to beat away upon my head. I found the blows very heavey—crushed me down to the deck—and as I never loosed my senses, rambled forward. They still pursued me, beating and pushing me, so that I fell down on the deck on a small raft just out of their way. I suppose I might have been there aboute a quarter of an hour, until they had secured my people below, and after found me laying on the deck. One of them said, "Here is one of the poor fellows dead." Another made answer, "Put the man below." He answered again, saying, "What use is it to put a dead man below?" and so past on. Aboute this time the vessel struck aground, the wind being about East S.E. very hard, right on the shore. So their I laid very quiet for near the space of two hours, hearing their discourse as they walked by me, the night being very dark on the 30 Jany. 1788. When some of them saw me lying there, said, "Here lays one of the fellows dead," one of them answered as before, "Put him below." Another said, "The man is dead." The commanding officer gave orders for a lantern and candle to be brought, so they took up one of my legs, as I was lying upon my belly; he let it go, and it fell as dead down on the deck. He likewayse put his

hand up under my clothes, between my shirt and my skin, and then examined my head, and so concluded, saying, "The man is so warm now as he was two hours back, but his head is all to atoms." I have thought hundreds of times since what a miracle it was I neither sneezed, coughed, nor drew breath that they perceived in all this time, I suppose not less than ten or fifteen minutes. The water being ebbing, the vessel making a great heel towards the shore, so that in the course of a very little time after, as their two boats was made fast alongside, one of them broke adrift. Immediately there was orders given to man the other boat in order to fetch her; so that when I saw them in the state of confusion, their gard broken, I thought it was my time to make my escape, so I crept on my belly on the deck, and got over a large raft just before the main mast, close by one of the men's heels, as he was standing there handing the trysail. When I got over the lee-side I thought I should be able to swim on shore in a stroke or two. I took hold of the burtins[30] of the mast, and as I was lifting myself over the side, I was taken with the cramp in one of my thighs. So then I thought I should be drowned, but still willing to risk it, so that I let myself over the side very easily by a rope into the water, fearing my enemies would hear me and then let go. As I was very near the shore, I thought to swim onshore in the course of a stroke or two, as I used to swim so well, but soon found out my mistake. I was sinking almost like a stone, and hauling astarn in deeper water, when I gave up all hopes of life, and begun to swallow some water. I found arope under my breast, so that I had not lost all my senses. I hauled upon it, and soon found one end fast to the side just where I went overboard, which gave me a little hope of life. So that when I got there, could not tell which was best, to call to the man-of-war's men to take me in, or to stay there and die, for my life and strength was allmoste exhausted; but whilst I was thinking of this, touched bottam with my feet. Hope then sprung up, and I soon found another rope, leading towards the head of the vessel in shoaler water, so that I veered upon one and hauled upon the other that brought me under the bowsprit, and then at times, upon the send of a sea, my feete was allmoste dry. I thought then I would soon be out of their way. Left go the rope, but as soon as I attempted to run, fell down, and as I fell, looking round aboute me, saw three men standing close by me. I know they were the man-of-war's men seeing for the boat, so I lyed there quiet for some little time, and then creeped upon my belly I suppose aboute the distance of fifty yards; and as the ground was scuddy, some flat rock mixt with channels of sand, I saw before me a channel of white sand, and for fear to be seen creeping over it, which would take some time, not knowing there was anything the matter with me, made the second attempt to run, and fell in the same manner as before. My brother Charles being there, looking out for the vessel, desired some of Cawsand men to go down to see if they could pick up any of the men dead or alive, not expecting ever to see me any more, allmoste sure I was ither shot or drowned. One of them saw me fall, ran to my assistance, and taking hold of me under the arm says, "Who are you?" So as I thought him to be an enemy, made no answer. He said, "Fear not, I am a friend; come with me." And by that time forth was two more come, which took me under both arms, and the other pushed me in the back, and so dragged me up to the town. I suppose it might have been about the distance of the fifth part of a mile. My strength was allmoste exhausted; my breath, nay, my life, was allmoste gone. They took me into a room where there were seven or eight of Cawsand men and my brother Charles, and when he saw me, knew me by my great coat, and cryed with joy, "This is my brother!" So then they immediately stript off my wet clothes, and one of them pulled off his shirt from off him and put on me, sent for a doctor, and put me to bed. Well, then, I have thought many a time since what a wonder it was. The bone of my nose cut right in two, nothing but a bit of skin holding it, and two very large cuts in my head, that two or three pieces of my skull worked out afterwards; and after so long laying on the deck with that very cold weather, and being not alltogether drowned, but allmoste, I think, I did not know I was wounded or loste any blood. And now, my dear reader, I am going to show you the hardening nature of sin. When I was struggling in the water for life I gave up all hope, I was dead in my own mind; nevertheless my conscience was so dead asleep I thought nothing aboute Heaven or hell or judgment; and if I had died then I am sure I should have awaked amongst devils and damned spirits. See here this greate salvation and that of the Lord. I have been very near drowned, I think, twice before this, and have been exposed to many dangers many a time in the course of time betwen the five years the lugger was loste in the North Channel and this time, privateering, smuggling, etc., but I think conscience never so dead as now. I stayed there that night and the next evening took chaise. My brother and me, and the docter came with us so far as Lostwithiel, and arrived at home the night after to brother Charles house. I stayed there about six or seven days, until it was advertised in the papers, I think three hundred pounds for apprehending the Captain for three months from the date thereof, which set us all of alarm. So I moved from there to a gentleman's house at Marazion. I think I stayed there about two or three weeks, and from thence moved to Acton Castle,[31] as my brother John rented the farm, the famely not being there then, so that the keys and care of the house were left to his charge, and after a few days removed to Marazion again, then afraid of the shaking of a leaf. I think I might have stayed at Marazion for the course of a fortnight, and then went to the Castle again.[32] I used to half burn my coals by night in order that there should be no smoke seen in the daytime. In the course of about three months, after my wounds were nearly healed, I used to go at night to the King's Cove and there to drink grog, etc., with the Cove boys until the gray of the morning, convictions following me very sharp still at times. In my way home to my dreary lodgings, the larks flying up in the fields around me, warbling out their little beautiful notes, used to move me with envy, saying, "These dear little birds answer the end they were sent in the world for, but me, the worst of all creatures that ever was made." So that I have wished many a time I had been a toad, a serpent, or anything, so that I had no soul, for I know I must give an account for my conduct in this world. Likewayse there was a gray thrush that sang to me night and morning close to the house, which have preached to me many a sermon.

In the daytime I chiefly spent my time improving my learning on navigation, etc. I remember one Sabbath day, when I was at Marazion, I heard some people singing of hymns. I

think they were Lady Huntingdon's people, when sincerely wished I had been one of them. I often[33] thought there was very great beauty in religion, and when I have been with others laughing and ridiculing the methodists, wished I had been one of them, whom I thought best of them. See what hypocrite was here. I remember aboute a year before this I went with my wife to Caerlean preaching, on the Sunday afternoon, where I stood as near as I could by the door. When the word fastened upon my mind, saying, "Thou art the man." So that I was constrained to turn my face to the wall and weep bitterly, with promises to mend my life, etc. But, alas! I had not gone perhaps an hundred yards from the house until I joined my old companions, so lost all my convictions. That was not the only time by many when I have set up resolutions in my own strength to serve the Lord, etc. Well, then, in the course of this time, whilst at this place, my wife would come to see me, and sometimes bring the child with her, and spend a day or two, so that I passed my time pleasantly whilst she was with me. I think it was in the latter end of August my wife was taken very poorly in consumption, being before of a delicate constitution, and was allwayse obliged to come and go at night. I think it was in the beginning of Octr. in 1788 when I went to Helford to see her, in company with a servant man to brother John, one night, as she removed from her own house to be with her mother. I found her in a very weak state, and as I expected then soon to quit the country, I stayed with her about two or three hours, when we took our final farewell of each other, never expecting to see each other no more in time. Oh, what a trying scene it was, to leave her in flood of tears. So I arrived home to my dreary solitude a little before day. I, before then, was greatly distressed for her soul, and through friends desired Uncle James Thomas to visit her, so he did often. I think it was about the 10 or 12 of the same month, when I was sitting upon a bench in one of the ground floors, bemoaning my sad estate, I began to say to myself, "I have loste my liberty, my property; I have loste my wife also"—as she was the same as dead to me then—so I thought that if her life were spared, it mattered little to me if I was to go to the West or East Indies, so that I could only hear from her by letters, would leave me some comfart. But that was taken away allso; so that when I was cutt off from every comfart in this life, that I had not the least straw to lay hold of, I begun to see the emptiness and vanity of everything here below, and set up the resolution, God being my Helper, I will serve Him the remnant of my days, so that I immediately fell to my knees and begun to say, "Lord have mercy upon me. Christe, have mercey upon me," etc.; and at that time I could not say the Lord's Prayer without form, if any man would give me my liberty, being so long living without prayer. So, then, as before time I used to divert myself in the daytime in looking at the ships and boats in the bay, the men and cattle working in the fields, etc., but now shut my eyes against them all; and if I had business in the daytime to go to the top of the house, was with my eyes shut. So I went on with the above prayer, sometimes in hope of mercy, othertimes lost allmoste all hope. Octr. 24, in 1788, sailed from Mounts Bay for Leghorn in the ship "George," Captn. Dewen, master. Was put on board with a boate from the King's Cove, accompanied by brother John, and I think I was allmoste like a dead man; thought little or nothing consarning my wife or child, or anything in this world, but was earnestely crying for mercy. I had a little cabin to myself to lodge in, where there was only a single partition between me and the men. At first it was a great pain to me to hear them swearing, but after a little while took very little notice of it. I had sume very good books to read with me, but they seem to be all locked up to me, as the natural man cannot desarn the things of the Spirit of God, for they are to be spiritualy desarned. I remember sumetimes reading, when I could not understand, I should be so peevish and fretfull that I could heave the book overboard. Then, oh, what a torment in my poor soul I feeled. Then to think, surely the mercy of God is clean gone from me. Oh, what burthen my life was unto me. At them times I seldom prayed then less in secret than twelve times a day and night, and when I could pray with a little liberty, I should be in hope of mercy, and at other times kneel down and groan without one word brought to my remembrance, then allmoste ready to give up all, saying, "Surely there is no mercy for me; all my prayers is no use at all, God pays no respect unto them"; but still I dare not give up praying. I could look back afterwards and see I was all prayer. So I think I arrived at Leghorn in the latter end of December, where I passed my Christmas. I think the first Sabbath after I came there the Captn. asked me to go on shore to church with him, as there was an English church and clergyman there. I gladly went. The minister being a good reader, I saw in his countenance much gravity and solemnity. I said to myself, "Surely this is the man of God," and thought I was highly favoured to hear him. The next Sunday I gladly went again, but on coming on board after the service was over, I was told that sacrament days he did not scruple to go to the plays, and play cards, etc., which poisoned my mind so with prejudice, I never went nomore. In the course of all this time I never meet with one person to give me one word of advice consarning my soul, but I laboured to keep myself to myself so much as posable, still reading and praying with all diligence. Well, then, the Captn. got a freight there to go to Barcelona, to load with brandy for New York in America. I was very glad when I heard of it, as I heard that there was methodists there, in hope I should fall in with sume of them to give me a word of instruction. So I think we sailed from Leghorn in the latter end of Jany. 1789. The Lord still continued to strive with me, sumetimes in hope of salvation, other times allmoste ready to give up all hope; but I still was diligent in reading and prayer, but I was so ignorant of the ways of salvation as I was at the first time I began to pray. I remember on my passage there one day, scudding before the wind, very cold weather, and a very big sea, looking over the starn. I thought I should be very glad to be tyed in a rope and towed after the ship for a fortnight, if that would get me into the favour of God. But alas! I know all such works would not merit anything from God as salvation. I arived at New York on the 19 April in '89, and aboute ten or twelve days before I arived there, I was taken with a violent inflammation in one of my eyes, so I could see very little on that eye and the other was much afected allso. So after two or three days being there, there came a glasar[34] on board to put in a pane of glass in the cabin windows. And as the Captn. and mate was not presant, I thought it was my time to enquire out the methodists, and as shame allways hunted me much, I begun to ask him aboute the defrante persuasions of people

class="x-ebookmaker-pageno" title="[Pg 36]"/> there; at laste I asked, "Is there any of Mr. Wesly's methodists here?" He answerd, "There is many." I asked him, "Do you know any of them?" He answered, "Yes, many of them." I asked, "What sort of people are they?" thinking, if he gave them a bad carakter, to say no further. His answer, "They are a good sorte of people," so then I asked him, "Do you know the precher?" He said, "I do, and I go to hear him sometimes." I said, "Then I shall be obliged to you if you will send your little boy with me to show me the precher's house." So after he stared a little at me, said, "If you will stay a little until I have done this job, I will ither go with you myself or git sume person that shall." So that encouraged me very much, set me in high spirits, and after a little further discourse, he told me his wife was a methodist, and soon after took me to his house, where the dear woman received me very kindly. And when she know I wanted to speak to the precher, she asked me if I did belong to the connection in England. I answered, "No, but I wants to speak to the precher." She said, "To-night is publick meeting night. I will go with you a half hour sooner, when we shall find Mr. Dickinson home." So accordingly we went together, where I found the dear man and his wife in the kitchen. As soon as I looked at him, I said to myself, "This is the man I wants to see; this is the man of God." I said, "Sir, I should be glad to speak a few words with you." So as there was no persons presant but his wife and the good woman that come with me, said, "Say on." I said, "To yourself, if you please, sir." So he took me into a small parlour and said, "What do you want of me?" I said, "Sir, I am an Englishman, and belong to a ship in the harbour. I know I am a great sinner, and as I am informed you belongs to Mr. Weseley's people, I want to know what I must do." He looked at me and said, "Do you think God would be just to send you to hell?" I was surprised at such a question, did not know what answer to make. Then he begun to say to this purpose, that Christe come to seek and to save that which was lost, etc. He likewayse asked me, "Do you pray?" I said, "Yes, a little." "Do you fast too?" said he. I said, "No, sir." So, after asking me a few more questions he said, "There is a publick prayer meeting here this evning, you may stay if you please."

So I thought he paid me a very great compliment. I thanked him, and when the time come, that dear woman took me to the meeting house and put me in a place to sit down. So after they had sung and prayed, the precher gave an exhortation, and I thought all to me, so that I was a little comfarted; and after the meeting was ended, the dear woman took me by the hand, as I was half blind, and lead me home to her own house; and the good glasar, her husband, lead me on board, with a strict charge not to fail coming to see them to-morrow. So I gladly accepted of the invitation, and when I came there she had brought one of the class leaders and a good old woman to meet me, who gave me great encouragement to seek the Lord. My eye still getting worse, and as I could not get leeches as I used to do at home, applyed to a doctor, and he cutt the small blood-vessels of the apple of my eye, and so lett the blood out. So as the ship was going to Baltimore to load, I thought if I went in her I should be in danger to lose the sight of one eye if not both, as both was much afected. So, then, I concluded to stay there, where I attended all the ordinance; some place to go to every night. And I think it was aboute the 1 of May when I was asked if I would have a note of admittance to meet in class. I thought it to be the greatest compliment I ever received in all my life, and gladly accepted it; so that when the leader asked my name, as he took me in surprize, I said "Harry." He said, "Is that your sir name?" I said, "Yes." Then he asked, "What is your Christian name?" I said, "Henry." So the people called me, sume Mr. Harry and sume Captn. Harry, as the sailors I come with me caled me Captn. Harry; so that in the course of a very little time I got more acquaintance with them dear people. I could see afterwards I was hungering and thirsting after righteousness, but sometimes in hope of mercy, othertimes allmoste ready to give up all. I used to walk out of town every morning in sume solitary place to myself to read and pray; and I know since that time if I wanted to know when the clock struck twelve in order to go home, that the family should not wait for me for dinner—I did hardely know much better when the clock had done striking no more than when it begun—I had not the time to count two, for all my soul was in a blaze of prayer. I think in the beginning of May, Doctor Cook[35] come there to hold confarence. I wished to make myself known unto him, but was afraid, as at that time I know very little aboute the methodists—afraid of the shaking of a leaf. And for all[36] I was so highly favoured with so much helps and means I could form no idea of justifying faith. Sometimes I thought I should here as a man's voice to speak unto me, other times think to see something with my bodily eyes, other times think as if my body should be changed. I have thought many times that there never was one so ignorant as I was in the ways of salvation. Sometimes, if I could weep a little under a sarmon, or in a prayer meeting, I should have some hope I was in the way, and sumetimes feel the drawings of the Father, which would give me sume encouragement and hope; other times, if I saw any persons weeping by me, should complain of the hardness of my heart, and be allmoste ready to give up all. Nevertheless I still continued praying—I supose seldom less than twelve times in aday—and sometimes think whether the hindrance was because I missed naming myself. Well, then, I have thought many a time since of my unwillingness to belief, for all I was blessed with so many helps and means. The prechers, and aboute six or seven people in particular, took me by the hand and was like fathers, mothers, brothers, and sistars, so that I often in the afternoon amongst sume of them dear women and the prechers, drinking tea, &c.; and if I should sit with them more than an half hour without sume of them should ask me something of the state of my mind, I should be so much dejected, and say to myself, "Surely I am beneath the least of their notice; how can I expect the least of their notice?" and I remember one day went to the hospital to preching. When the preching was over, the two prechers, Mr. Morld and Mr. Cloude, in their way home, I drew nigh to them; thought to have some conversation with them, and as they used to make so free with me, then only spoke as I thought coldly. I was so much dejected in my own mind, I thought I was the worst creature that ever was born, and that allmoste all things cryed vengance against me. Another time I remember I went to the precher's house to inquire after Mr. Cooper, he not being there that presant, and as I went out to one door he came in to the other, I not seeing him.

Mr. Morld said to him, "Brother Carter was here inquiring after you." I heard him, and was immediately struck with wonder to think a such man as he should be so humble as to call a

such poor creature as me, brother. So these was some of the ways I was tryed. Some times up, sume times down, sume times in hope and sume times allmoste ready to give up. Notwithstanding all this I continued still in prayer, and I remember when walked the streets I was like one with his eyes shut, crying for salvation, and likewayse crying to the Lord that there might nothing take my attention or the least of my afection from Him in this world. I think I was there aboute three or four weeks, when I was asked why I did not go to sacrament. I answered, "I am unworthy." The person answered, "You are the very person that is worthy." So as he could not prevail upon me to go, he told the preachers of it, and after class meeting on the Sabbath morning, as they was going to a friend's house to breakfast, asked me to go with them. They soon opened their commission, and asked me to come to the sacrement to-day. I answered, I could not. They asked my reason. I said, "Him that eateth and drinketh unworthy, eateth and drinketh his own damnation," and immediately I burst out in a flood of tears, and desired the company to pray for me. The whole large company kneeled down, and prayed for me with great powar, so that I had not the only wet face by many in the company, and after prayer took me to reason, so I consented to go. And I went with much fear and trembling. I feeled nothing particular in the ordinance, but ever after continued to go. I think it was in the beginning of June I begun to abstain from eating, and as I eate to the full before, I slackoned a little every meal. I was afraid to fast for fear the family should take notice of me; and aboute this time I sent home for sume money, then thinking to set on a shop in Co. with Robt. Snow, then thinking to leave my bones there. So I still went on sume times thinking I was getting into lukewarm state, other times a little hope of mercy, and sume times allmoste despair of all mercy. But I remember 19 July I went to preaching as usual, when, as the preacher was pointing out the odiousness of sin, and the hartfeelt sorrow that a true penitent soul feeled for it, he mentoned of a woman that had a cancer cutt out of her breast a few days before, and when she was asked if the pain was not very great, her answer was, "Not so great as when I was under convictions for sin." I immediately concluded I was out of the way. I had hardley the least hope left of Christ, Heaven, or happyness. So in my way home in company with Mr. Cooper, a little before we parted he said, "Captn., what is the matter? You seem to be lowspirited to-night." I answered, "Yes, and well I may." He said, "What then is the matter?" I said "Did you not hear Mr. Morel saying aboute the woman that had the cancer cutt out of her breast, and I am sure I am not in the way, I never feeled such pain at all," etc. He said, "I am sure you are in the way," and then begun to repeat the promises, etc. I thought I had heard the same promises repeated hundreds of times before, but never in such manner as at presant. Hope sprung up that the blessing was very near to me. I went home to my lodgings, and after prayer opened the Hymbook to—