 6 Having thus given an account of the colony in general, and pretty much of my run-a-gate Englishmen, I must say something of the Spaniards who were the main body of the family, and in whose story there are some incidents also remarkable enough. I had a great many discourses with them about their circumstances when they were among the savages. They told me readily that they had no instances to give of their application or ingenuity in that country, that they were a poor, miserable, dejected handful of people, that even if means had been put into their hands, yet they had so abandoned themselves to despair, and were so sunk under the weight of their misfortune, that they thought of nothing but starving. One of them, a grave and sensible man, told me he was convinced they were in the wrong, that it was not the part of wise men to give themselves up to their misery, but always to take hold of the helps which reason offered, as well for present support as for future deliverance. He told me that grief was the most senseless, insignificant passion in the world, for it regarded only things past which were generally impossible to be recalled or to be remedied, but had no views of things to come, and had no share in anything that looked like deliverance, but rather added to the affliction than proposed a remedy. And upon this he repeated a Spanish proverb, which though I cannot repeat it in the same words that he spoke it in, yet I remember I made it into an English proverb of my own, in trouble to be troubled is to have your trouble doubled. He then ran on in remarks upon all the little improvements I had made in my solitude, my unwearyed application, as he called it, and how I had made a condition which in its circumstances was at first much worse than theirs, a thousand times more happy than theirs was, even now when they were all together. He told me it was remarkable that Englishmen had a greater presence of mind in their distress than any people that ever he met with, that their unhappy nation and the Portuguese were the worst men in the world to struggle with misfortunes, for that their first step in dangers, after the common efforts were over, was to despair, lie down under it, and die, without rousing their thoughts up to proper remedies for escape. I told him their case and mine differed exceedingly, that they were cast upon the shore without necessaries, without supply of food, or present sustenance till they could provide for it. That it was true I had this further disadvantage and discomfort that I was alone. But then the supplies I had providentially thrown into my hands, by the unexpected driving of the ship upon the shore, was such a help as would have encouraged any creature in the world to have applied himself as I had done. Señor, says the Spaniard, had we poor Spaniards been in your case, we should never have got half those things out of the ship, as you did, may, says he, we should never have found means to have got a raft to carry them, or to have got the raft on shore without boat or sail, and how much less should we have done if any of us had been alone. Well, I desired him to abate his compliments, and go on with the history of their coming on shore where they landed. He told me they unhappily landed at a place where there were people without provisions, whereas had they had the common sense to put off to sea again, and gone to another island a little further, they had found provisions though without people. There being an island that way, as they had been told, where there were provisions though no people, that is to say, that the Spaniards of Trinidad had frequently been there, and had filled the island with goats and hogs at several times, where they had bred in such multitudes, and where turtle and sea-fowls were in such plenty, that they could have been in no want of flesh, though they had found no bread, whereas here they were only sustained with a few roots and herbs, which they understood not, and which had no substance in them, and which the inhabitants gave them sparingly enough, and they could treat them no better, unless they would turn cannibals and eat men's flesh. They gave me an account how many ways they strove to civilize the savages they were with, and to teach them rational customs in the ordinary way of living, but in vain, and how they retorted upon them as unjust that they who came there for assistance and support should attempt to set up for instructors to those who gave them food, intimating, it seems, that none should set up for the instructors of others but those who could live without them. They gave me dismal accounts of the extremities they were driven to, how sometimes they were many days without any food at all, the island they were upon being inhabited by a sort of savages that lived more indolent, and for that reason were less supplied with the necessaries of life than they had reason to believe others were in the same part of the world, and yet they found that these savages were less ravenous and voracious than those who had better supplies of food. Also they added they could not but see what demonstrations of wisdom and goodness the governing providence of God directs the events of things in this world, which they said appeared in their circumstances, for if pressed by the hardships they were under, and the barrenness of the country where they were, they had searched after a better to live in, they had then been out of the way of the relief that happened to them by my means. They then gave me an account how the savages whom they lived amongst expected them to go out with them into their wars, and it was true that as they had firearms with them, had they not had the disaster to lose their ammunition, they could have been serviceable not only to their friends but have made themselves terrible both to friends and enemies, but being without powder and shot, and yet in a condition that they could not in reason decline to go out with their landlords to their wars, so when they came into the field of battle they were in a worse condition than the savages themselves, for they had neither bows nor arrows nor could they use those the savages gave them, so they could do nothing but stand still and be wounded with arrows till they came up to the teeth of the enemy, and then indeed the three halberds they had were of use to them and they would often drive a whole little army before them with those halberds and sharpened sticks put into the muzzles of their muskets, but for all this they were sometimes surrounded with multitudes and in great danger from their arrows till at last they found the way to make themselves large targets of wood which they covered with skins of wild beasts whose names they knew not, and these covered them from the arrows of the savages that not withstanding these they were sometimes in great danger, and five of them were once knocked down together with the clubs of the savages which was the time when one of them was taken prisoner, that is to say the Spaniard whom I relieved. At first they thought he had been killed, but when they afterwards heard he was taken prisoner they were under the greatest grief imaginable, and would willingly have all ventured their lives to have rescued him. They told me that when they were so knocked down the rest of their company rescued them, and stood over them fighting till they were come to themselves, all but him whom they thought had been dead, and then they made their way with their halberds and pieces, standing close together in a line, through a body of above a thousand savages, beating down all that came in their way, got the victory over their enemies, but to their great sorrow, because it was with the loss of their friend whom the other party finding alive carried off with some others as I gave an account before. They described most affectionately how they were surprised with joy at the return of their friend and companion in misery, who they thought had been devoured by wild beasts of the worst kind, wild men, and yet how more and more they were surprised with the account he gave them of his errand, and that there was a Christian in any place near, much more one that was able and had humanity enough to contribute to their deliverance. They described how they were astonished at the sight of the relief I sent them, and at the appearance of loaves of bread, things they had not seen since they're coming to that miserable place, how often they crossed it and blessed it as bread sent from heaven, and what a reviving cordial it was to their spirits to taste it, as also the other things I had sent for their supply, and after all they would have told me something of the joy they were in at the sight of a boat and pilots to carry them away to the person and place from whence all these new comforts came, but it was impossible to express it by words, for their excessive joy naturally driving them to unbecoming extravagances, they had no way to describe them but by telling me they bordered upon lunacy. They had no way to give vent to their passions suitable to the sense that was upon them, that in some it worked one way and in some another, and that some of them, through a surprise of joy, would burst into tears, others be stark mad and others immediately faint. This discourse extremely affected me, and called to my mind Friday's ecstasy when he met his father, and the poor people's ecstasy when I took them up at sea after their ship was on fire. The joy of the mate of the ship when he found himself delivered in the place where he expected to perish, and my own joy, when after twenty-eight years' captivity I found a good ship ready to carry me to my own country. All these things made me more sensible of the relation of these poor men and more affected with it. Having thus given a view of the state of things as I found them, I must relate the heads of what I did for these people, and the condition in which I left them. It was their opinion, and mine too, that they would be troubled no more with the savages, or if they were they would be able to cut them off, if they were twice as many as before, so they had no concern about that. Then I entered into a serious discourse with the Spaniard, whom I call Governor, about their stay in the island, for as I was not come to carry any of them off, so it would not be just to carry off some and leave others, who perhaps would be unwilling to stay if their strength was diminished. On the other hand I told them I came to establish them there, not to remove them, and then I let them know that I had brought with me relief of sundry kinds for them, that I had been at a great charge to supply them with all things necessary, as well for their convenience as their defense, and that I had such and such particular persons with me, as well to increase and recruit their number, as by the particular necessary employments which they were bred to, being artificers, to assist them in those things in which at present they were in want. They were all together when I talked thus to them, and before I delivered to them the stores I had brought, I asked them one by one if they had entirely forgot and buried the first animosities that had been among them, and would shake hands with one another, and engage in a strict friendship and union of interest that so there might be no more misunderstandings and jealousies. Will Atkins, with abundance of frankness and good humor, said they had met with affliction enough to make them all sober, and enemies enough to make them all friends, that for his part he would live and die with them, and was so far from designing anything against the Spaniards, that he owned they had done nothing to him but what his own mad humor made necessary, and what he would have done, and perhaps worse, in their case, and that he would ask them pardon if I desired it, for the foolish and brutish things he had done to them, and was very willing and desirous of living in terms of entire friendship and union with them, and would do anything that lay in his power to convince them of it, and as for going to England, he cared not if he did not go thither these twenty years. The Spaniards said they had, indeed, at first disarmed and excluded Will Atkins and his two countrymen for their ill conduct, as they had let me know, and they appealed to me for the necessity they were under to do so, but that Will Atkins had behaved himself so bravely in the great fight they had with the savages, and on several occasions since, and had showed himself so faithful to and concerned for, the general interest of them all, that they had forgotten all that was past, and thought he merited as much to be trusted with arms and supplied with necessaries as any of them, that they had testified their satisfaction in him by committing the command to him next to the Governor himself, and as they had entire confidence in him and all his countrymen, so they acknowledged they had merited that confidence by all the methods that honest men could merit to be valued and trusted, and they most heartily embraced the occasion of giving me this assurance that they would never have any interest separate from one another. Upon these frank and open declarations of friendship, we appointed the next day to dine all together, and, indeed, we made a splendid feast. I caused the ship's cook and his mate to come on shore and dress our dinner, and the old cook's mate we had on shore assisted. We brought on shore six pieces of good beef and four pieces of pork out of the ship's provisions, with our punch-bowl and materials to fill it, and in particular I gave them ten bottles of French claret, and ten bottles of English beer, things that neither the Spaniards nor the English had tasted for many years, and which it may be supposed they were very glad of. The Spaniards added to our feast five whole kids, which the cooks roasted, and three of them were sent, covered up close, on board the ship to the seamen, that they might feast on fresh meat from on shore, as we did with their salt-meat from on board. After this feast, at which we were very innocently merry, I brought my cargo of goods, wherein, that there might be no dispute about dividing, I showed them that there was a sufficiency for them all, desiring that they might take an equal quantity, when made up, of the goods that were for wearing. At first I distributed linen sufficient to make every one of them four shirts, and, at the Spaniards' request, afterwards made them up six. These were exceeding comfortable to them, having been what they had long since forgot the use of, or what it was to wear them. I allotted the thin English stuffs, which I mentioned before, to make every one a light coat, like a frock, which I judged fittest for the heat of the season, cool and loose, and ordered that whenever they decayed they should make more, as they thought fit. The like for pumps, shoes, stockings, hats, etc. I cannot express what pleasure sat upon the countenances of all these poor men when they saw the care I had taken of them, and how well I had furnished them. They told me I was a father to them, and that having such a correspondent as I was in so remote a part of the world, it would make them forget that they were left in a desolate place, and they all voluntarily engaged to me not to leave the place without my consent. Then I presented to them the people I had brought with me, particularly the tailor, the smith, and the two carpenters, all of them most necessary people, but above all my general artificer, than whom they could not name anything that was more useful to them, and the tailor, to show his concern for them, went to work immediately, and with my leave made them every one a shirt, the first thing he did, and what was still more, he taught the women not only how to sew and stitch and use the needle, but made them assist to make the shirts for their husbands and for all the rest. As to the carpenters, I scarce need mention how useful they were, for they took to pieces all my clumsy, unhandy things, and made clever convenient tables, stools, bedsteads, cupboards, lockers, shelves, and everything they wanted of that kind. But to let them see how nature made Artificers at first, I carried the carpenters to see Will Atkins' basket-house, as I called it, and they both owned they never saw an instance of such natural ingenuity before, nor anything so regular and so handily built, at least of its kind, and one of them when he saw it, after musing a good while, turning about to me, I am sure, says he, that man has no need of us, you need do nothing but give him tools. Then I brought them out all my store of tools, and gave every man a digging-spade, a shovel, and a rake, for we had no barrows or plows, and to every separate place a pickaxe, a crow, a broadaxe, and a saw, always appointing, that as often as any were broken or worn out, they should be supplied without grudging out of the general stores that I left behind. Chisels, staples, hinges, hammers, chisels, knives, scissors, and all sorts of ironwork they had without reserve as they required, for no man would take more than he wanted, and he must be a fool that would waste or spoil them on any account whatever, and for the use of the smith I left two tons of unraught iron for a supply. My magazine of powder and arms which I brought them was such, even to profusion, that they could not but rejoice at them, for now they could march as I used to with a musket upon each shoulder if there was occasion, and were able to fight a thousand savages if they had but some little advantages of situation which also they could not miss if they had occasion. I carried on shore with me the young man whose mother was starved to death and the maid also. She was a sober, well-educated, religious young woman, and behaved so inoffensively that every one gave her a good word. She had indeed an unhappy life with us, there being no woman in the ship but herself, but she bore it with patience. After a while, seeing things so well ordered, and in so fine a way of thriving upon my island, and considering that they had neither business nor acquaintance in the East Indies, or reason for taking so long a voyage, both of them came to me and desired I would give them leave to remain on the island, and be entered among my family as they called it. I agreed to this readily, and they had a little plot of ground allotted to them, where they had three tents or houses set up, surrounded with a basket-work, palisadoed like Atkins's, adjoining to his plantation. Their tents were contrived so that they had each of them a room apart to lodge in, and a middle tent like a great storehouse to lay their goods in, and to eat and to drink in, and now the other two Englishmen removed their habitation to the same place, and so the island was divided into three colonies and no more, vis the Spaniards with old Friday and the first servants at my habitation under the hill, which was, in a word, the capital city, and where they had so enlarged and extended their works, as well under as on the outside of the hill, that they lived, though perfectly concealed, yet full at large. Never was there such a little city in a wood, and so hid, in any part of the world, for I verily believe that a thousand men might have ranged the island a month, and, if they had not known there was such a thing, and looked on purpose for it, they would not have found it. Indeed the trees stood so thick and so close, and grew so fast woven one into another, that nothing but cutting them down first could discover the place, except the only two narrow entrances, where they went in and out could be found, which was not very easy. One of them was close down at the water's edge, on the side of the creek, and it was afterwards above two hundred yards to the place, and the other was up a ladder at twice, as I have already described it, and they had also a large wood, thickly planted, on the top of the hill, containing above an acre, which grew a pace, and concealed the place from all discovery there, with only one narrow place between the two trees, not easily to be discovered, to enter on that side. The other colony was that of Will Atkins, where there were four families of Englishmen. I mean those I had left there, with their wives and children, three savages that were slaves, the widow and children of the Englishmen that was killed, the young man and the maid, and, by the way, we made a wife of her before we went away. There were besides the two Carpenters and the Taylor, whom I brought with me for them, also the Smith, who was a very necessary man to them, especially as a gunsmith, to take care of their arms, and my other man, whom I called Jack of all trades, who was in himself as good almost as twenty men, for he was not only a very ingenious fellow, but a very merry fellow, and before I went away we married him to the honest maid that came with the youth in the ship I mentioned before. And now I speak of marrying, it brings me naturally to say something of the French Ecclesiastic that I had brought with me out of the ship's crew whom I took up at sea. It is true this man was a Roman, and perhaps it may give offence to some hereafter if I leave anything extraordinary upon record of a man whom, before I began, I must, to set him out in just colors, represent in terms very much to his disadvantage, in the account of Protestants, as first that he was a Papist, secondly a Popish Priest, and thirdly a French Popish Priest. But justice demands of me to give him a due character, and I must say he was a grave, sober, pious, and most religious person, exact in his life, extensive in his charity, and exemplary in almost everything he did. What then can any one say against being very sensible of the value of such a man, notwithstanding his profession, though it may be my opinion, perhaps, as well as the opinion of others who shall read this, that he was mistaken. The first hour that I began to converse with him after he had agreed to go with me to the East Indies, I found reason to delight exceedingly in his conversation, and he first began with me about religion in the most obliging manner imaginable. Sir, says he, you have not only under God, and at that he crossed his breast, saved my life, but you have admitted me to go this voyage in your ship, and by your obliging civility have taken me into your family, giving me an opportunity of free conversation. Now, sir, you see by my habit what my profession is, and I guess by your nation what yours is. I may think it is my duty, and doubtless it is so, to use my utmost endeavours on all occasions to bring all the souls I can to the knowledge of the truth, and to embrace the Catholic doctrine. But as I am here under your permission, and in your family, I am bound injustice to your kindness, as well as indecency and good manners, to be under your government, and therefore I shall not, without your leave, enter into any debate on the points of religion in which we may not agree, further than you shall give me leave. I told him his carriage was so modest that I could not but acknowledge it, that it was true we were such people as they call heretics, but that he was not the first Catholic I had conversed with, without falling into inconveniences, or carrying the questions to any heightened debate, that he should not find himself the worst used for being of a different opinion from us, and if we did not converse without any dislike on either side, it should be his fault, not ours. He replied that he thought all our conversation might be easily separated from disputes, that it was not his business to cap principles with every man he conversed with, and that he rather desired me to converse with him as a gentleman, than as a religionist, and that if I would give him leave at any time to discourse upon religious subjects, he would readily comply with it, and that he did not doubt but I would allow him also to defend his own opinions as well as he could, but that without my leave he would not break in upon me with any such thing. He told me further that he would not cease to do all that became him, in his office as a priest, as well as a private Christian, to procure the good of the ship, and the safety of all that was in her, and though perhaps we would not join with him, and he could not pray with us, he hoped he might pray for us, which he would do upon all occasions. In this manner we conversed, and as he was of the most obliging gentleman-like behavior, so he was, if I may be allowed to say so, a man of good sense, and, as I believe, of great learning. He gave me a most diverting account of his life, and of the many extraordinary events of it, of many adventures which had befallen him in the few years that he had been abroad in the world, and particularly, it was very remarkable, that in the voyage he was now engaged in, he had had the misfortune to be five times shipped and unshipped, and never to go to the place whither any of the ships he was in were at first designed, that his first intent was to have gone to Martinico, and that he went on board a ship bound thither at St. Malo, but being forced into Lisbon by bad weather, the ship received some damage by running aground in the mouth of the River Tagus, and was obliged to unload her cargo there, but finding a Portuguese ship there bound for the Maderas, and ready to sail, and supposing he should meet with a ship there bound to Martinico, he went on board in order to sail to the Maderas, but the master of the Portuguese ship, being an indifferent mariner, had been out of his reckoning, and they drove to Fayal, where, however, he happened to find a very good market for his cargo, which was corn, and therefore resolved not to go to the Maderas, but to load salt at the Isle of May, and to go away to Newfoundland. He had no remedy in this exigence but to go with the ship, and had a pretty good voyage as far as the banks, so they call the place where they catch the fish, where meeting with a French ship bound from France to Quebec, and from thence to Martinico, to carry provisions, he thought he should have an opportunity to complete his first design, but when he came to Quebec, the master of the ship died, and the vessel proceeded no further, so the next voyage he shipped himself for France, in the ship that was burned when we took them up at sea, and then shipped with us for the East Indies, as I have already said. Thus he had been disappointed in five voyages, all, as I may call it, in one voyage besides what I shall have occasion to mention further of him. But I shall not make digression into other men's stories which have no relation to my own, so I return to what concerns our affair in the island. He came to me one morning, for he lodged among us all the while we were upon the island, and it happened to me just when I was going to visit the Englishman's colony at the furthest part of the island. I say he came to me, and told me with a very grave countenance, that he had for two or three days desired an opportunity of some discourse with me, which he hoped would not be displeasing to me, because he thought it might in some measure correspond with my general design, which was the prosperity of my new colony, and perhaps might put it, at least more than he yet thought it was, in the way of God's blessing. I looked a little surprised at the last of his discourse, and turning a little short, how, sir, said I, can it be said that we are not in the way of God's blessing, after such visible assistances and deliverances as we have seen here, and of which I have given you a large account. If you had pleased, sir, said he, with a world of modesty, and yet great readiness, to have heard me, you would have found no room to have been displeased, much less to think so hard of me, that I should suggest that you have not had wonderful assistances and deliverances, and I hope, on your behalf, that you are in the way of God's blessing, and your design is exceeding good, and will prosper. But sir, though it were more so than is even possible to you, yet there may be some among you that are not equally right in their actions, and you know that in the story of the children of Israel, one achon in the camp removed God's blessing from them, and turned his hand so against them, that six and thirty of them, though not concerned in the crime, were the objects of divine vengeance, and bore the weight of that punishment. I was sensibly touched with this discourse, and told him his inference was so just, and the whole design seemed so sincere, and was really so religious in its own nature, that I was very sorry I had interrupted him, and begged him to go on. And in the meantime, because it seemed that what we had both to say might take up some time, I told him I was going to the Englishman's plantations, and asked him to go with me, and we might discourse of it by the way. He told me he would the more willingly wait on me thither, because there partly the thing was acted which he desired to speak to me about, so we walked on, and I pressed him to be free and plain with me in what he had to say. Why then, sir, said he, be pleased to give me leave to lay down a few propositions, as the foundation of what I have to say, that we may not differ in the general principles, though we may be of some differing opinions in the practice of particulars. First, sir, though we differ in some of the doctrinal articles of religion, and it is very unhappy it is so, especially in the case before us, as I shall show afterwards, yet there are some general principles in which we both agree, that there is a God, and that this God having given us some stated general rules for our service and obedience, we ought not willingly and knowingly to offend him, either by neglecting to do what he has commanded, or by doing what he has expressly forbidden, and let our different religions be what they will, this general principle is readily owned by us all, that the blessing of God does not ordinarily follow presumptuous sinning against his command, and every good Christian will be affectionately concerned to prevent any that are under his care living in a total neglect of God and his commands. It is not your men being protestants, whatever my opinion may be of such, that discharges me from being concerned for their souls, and from endeavoring, if it lies before me, that they should live in as little distance from enmity with their maker as possible, especially if you give me leave to meddle so far in your circuit. I could not yet imagine what he aimed at, and told him I granted all he had said, and thanked him that he would so far concern himself for us, and begged he would explain the particulars of what he had observed, that, like Joshua, to take his own parable, I might put away the accursed thing from us. Why then, sir, says he, I will take the liberty you give me, and there are three things which, if I am right, must stand in the way of God's blessing upon your endeavors here, and which I should rejoice for your sake and their own to see removed. And, sir, I promise myself that you will fully agree with me in them all, as soon as I name them, especially because I shall convince you that every one of them may, with great ease, and very much to your satisfaction, be remedied. First, sir, says he, you have here four Englishmen who have fetched women from among the savages, and have taken them as their wives, and have had many children by them all, and yet are not married to them after any stated legal manner, as the laws of God and man require. To this, sir, I know you will object that there was no clergyman or priest of any kind to perform the ceremony, nor any pen and ink or paper to write down a contract of marriage, and have it signed between them. And I know also, sir, what the Spaniard governor has told you, I mean of the agreement that he obliged them to make when they took these women, these, that they should choose them out by consent and keep separately to them, which, by the way, is nothing of a marriage, no agreement with the women as wives, but only an agreement among themselves to keep them from quarreling. But, sir, the essence of the sacrament of matrimony, so he called it, being a Roman, consists not only in the mutual consent of the parties to take one another as man and wife, but in the formal and legal obligation to own and acknowledge each other, obliging the man to abstain from all other women, to engage in no other contract while these subsist, and on all occasions, as ability allows, to provide honestly for them and their children, and to oblige the women to the same or like conditions on their side. Now, sir, says he, these men may, when they please, or when occasion presents, abandon these women, disown their children, leave them to perish, and take other women, and marry them while these are living. And here he added, with some warmth, how, sir, is God honored in this unlawful liberty. And how shall a blessing succeed your endeavors in this place, however good in themselves, and however sincere in your design, while these men, who at present are your subjects, live under your absolute government and dominion, are allowed by you to live in open adultery? I confess I was struck with the thing itself, but much more with the convincing arguments he supported it with, but I thought to have got off my young priest by telling him that all that part was done, when I was not there, and that they had lived so many years with them now, that if it was adultery it was past remedy, nothing could be done in it now. Sir, says he, asking your pardon for such freedom, you are right in this that it being done in your absence, you could not be charged with that part of the crime, but I beseech you, flatter not yourself that you are not therefore under an obligation to do your utmost now to put an end to it. You shall legally and effectually marry them, and as, sir, my way of marrying may not be easy to reconcile them too, though it will be effectual even by your own laws, so your way may be as well before God, and as valid among men. I mean by a written contract signed by both man and woman, and by all the witnesses present, which all the laws of Europe were decreed to be valid. I was amazed to see so much true piety and so much sincerity of zeal, besides the usual impartiality in his discourse as to his own party or church, and such true warmth for preserving people that he had no knowledge of or relation to from transgressing the laws of God. But recollecting what he had said of marrying them by a written contract, which I knew he would stand to, I returned it back upon him, and told him I granted all that he said to be just, and on his part very kind, that I would discourse with the men upon the point now, when I came to them, and I knew no reason why they should scruple to let him marry them all, which I knew well enough would be granted to be as authentic and valid in England as if they were married by one of our own clergymen. I then pressed him to tell me what was the second complaint which he had to make, acknowledging that I was very much his debtor for the first, and thanking him heartily for it. He told me he would use the same freedom and plainness in the second, and hoped I would take it as well, and this was that notwithstanding these English subjects of mine, as he called them, had lived with these women almost seven years, had taught them to speak English, and even to read it, and that they were, as he perceived, women of tolerable understanding, and capable of instruction, yet they had not to this hour taught them anything of the Christian religion. No, not so much as to know there was a God, or a worship, or in what manner God was to be served, or that their own idolatry and worshiping they knew not whom was false and absurd. This, he said, was an unaccountable neglect, and what God would certainly call them to account for, and perhaps at last take the work out of their hands. He spoke this very affectionately and warmly. I am persuaded, says he, had those men lived in the Savish country whence their wives came, the Savajas would have taken more pains to have brought them to be idolaters, and to worship the devil, than any of these men, so far as I can see, have taken with them to teach the knowledge of the true God. Now, sir, said he, though I do not acknowledge your religion, or you mine, yet we would be glad to see the devil's servants and the subjects of his kingdom taught to know religion, and that they might at least hear of God and a redeemer, and the resurrection, and of a future state, things which we all believe, that they might at least be so much nearer coming into the bosom of the true church than they are now in the public profession of idolatry and devil worship. I could hold no longer. I took him in my arms and embraced him eagerly. How far, said I to him, have I been from understanding the most essential part of a Christian, vis to love the interest of the Christian church, and the good of other men's souls. I scarce have known what belongs to the being a Christian. Oh, sir, do not say so, replied he. This thing is not your fault. No, said I. But why did I never lay it to heart as well as you? It is not too late yet, said he. Be not too forward to condemn yourself. But what can be done now, said I. You see, I am going away. Will you give me leave to talk with these poor men about it? Yes, with all my heart, said I, and obliged them to give heed to what you say, too. As to that, said he, we must leave them to the mercy of Christ. But it is your business to assist them, encourage them, and instruct them. And if you give me leave, and God his blessing, I do not doubt but the poor ignorant souls shall be brought home to the great circle of Christianity, if not into the particular faith we all embrace, and that even while you stay here. Upon this I said, I shall not only give you leave, but give you a thousand thanks for it. I now pressed him for the third article in which we were to blame. Why, really, says he, it is of the same nature. It is about your poor savages, who are, as I may say, your conquered subjects. It is a maxim, sir, that is or ought to be received among all Christians, of what church or pretended church so-ever, that the Christian knowledge ought to be propagated by all possible means and on all possible occasions. It is on this principle that our church sends missionaries into Persia, India, and China, and that our clergy, even of the superior sort, willingly engage in the most hazardous voyages, and the most dangerous residents amongst murderers and barbarians, to teach them the knowledge of the true God, and to bring them over to embrace the Christian faith. Now, sir, you have such an opportunity here to have six or seven and thirty poor savages brought over from a state of idolatry to the knowledge of God, their maker and redeemer, that I wonder how you can pass such an occasion of doing good, which is really worth the expense of a man's whole life. I was now struck dumb indeed, and had not one word to say. I had here the spirit of true Christian zeal for God and religion before me. As for me, I had not so much as entertained a thought of this in my heart before, and I believe I should not have thought of it, for I looked upon these savages as slaves, and people whom had we not had any work for them to do. We would have used as such, or would have been glad to have transported them to any part of the world, for our business was to get rid of them, and we would all have been satisfied if they had been sent to any country, so they had never seen their own. I was confounded at his discourse, and knew not what answer to make him. He looked earnestly at me seeing my confusion. Sir, says he, I shall be very sorry if what I have said gives you any offence. No, no, said I. I am offended with nobody but myself, but I am perfectly confounded, not only to think that I should never take any notice of this before, but with reflecting what notice I am able to take of it now. You know, sir, said I, what circumstances I am in. I am bound to the East Indies in a ship freighted by merchants, and to whom it would be an insufferable piece of injustice to detain their ship here. The men lying all this while at victuals and wages on the owner's account. It is true I agreed to be allowed twelve days here, and if I stay more I must pay three pounds sterling per diem demurrage. Nor can I stay upon demurrage above eight days more, and I have been here thirteen already, so that I am perfectly unable to engage in this work, unless I would suffer myself to be left behind here again. In which case, if this single ship should miscarry in any part of her voyage, I should be just in the same condition that I was left in here at first, and from which I have been so wonderfully delivered. He owned the case was very hard upon me as to my voyage, but laid it home upon my conscience, whether the blessing of saving thirty-seven souls was not worth venturing all I had in the world for. I was not so sensible of that as he was. I replied to him thus, Why, sir, it is a valuable thing, indeed, to be an instrument in God's hand, to convert thirty-seven heathens to the knowledge of Christ, but as you are an ecclesiastic and are given over to the work, so it seems naturally to fall in the way of your profession. How is it, then, that you do not rather offer yourself to undertake it than to press me to do it? Upon this he faced about just before me, as he walked along, and putting me to a full stop made me a very low bow. I most heartily thank God and you, sir, said he, for giving me so evident a call to so blessed a work, and if you think yourself discharged from it, and desire me to undertake it, I will most readily do it, and think it a happy reward for all the hazards and difficulties of such a broken, disappointed voyage as I have met with, that I am dropped at last into so glorious a work. I discovered a kind of rapture in his face while he spoke this to me. His eyes sparkled like fire, his face glowed, and his color came and went. In a word he was fired with the joy of being embarked in such a work. I paused a considerable while before I could tell what to say to him, for I was really surprised to find a man of such sincerity, and who seemed possessed of a zeal beyond the ordinary rate of men. But after I had considered it a while, I asked him seriously if he was in earnest, and that he would venture on the single consideration of an attempt to convert those poor people to be locked up in an unplanted island for perhaps his life, and at last might not know whether he should be able to do them good or not. He turned short upon me and asked me what I called a venture. Pray, sir, said he, what do you think I consented to go in your ship to the East Indies for? I said I, that I know not, unless it was to preach to the Indians. Doubless it was, said he, and do you think if I can convert these thirty-seven men to the faith of Jesus Christ, it is not worth my time, though I should never be fetched off the island again? Nay, is it not infinitely of more worth to save so many souls than my life is, or the life of twenty more of the same profession? Yes, sir, says he, I would give God thanks all my days if I could be made the happiest lament of saving the souls of these poor men, though I will never to get my foot off this island or see my native country any more. But since you will honor me with putting me into this work, for which I will pray for you all the days of my life, I have but one humble petition to you besides. What is that? said I. Why, says he, it is that you will leave your man Friday with me, to be my interpreter to them and to assist me, for without some help I cannot speak to them, or they to me. I was sensibly touched at his requesting Friday, because I could not think of parting with him, and that for many reasons, he had been the companion of my travels, he was not only faithful to me, but sincerely affectionate to the last degree, and I had resolved to do something considerable for him if he outlived me, as it was probable he would. Then I knew that, as I had bred Friday up to be a Protestant, it would quite confound him to bring him to embrace another religion, and he would never, while his eyes were open, believe that his old master was a heretic, and would be damned, and this might in the end ruin the poor fellow's principles, and so turn him back again to his first idolatry. However, a sudden thought relieved me in this strait, and it was this, I told him I could not say that I was willing to part with Friday on any account whatever, though a work that to him was of more value than his life ought to be of much more value than the keeping or parting with a servant. On the other hand, I was persuaded that Friday would by no means agree to part with me, and I could not force him to it without his consent, without manifest injustice, because I had promised I would never send him away, and he had promised and engaged that he would never leave me, unless I sent him away. He seemed very much concerned at it, for he had no rational access to these poor people, seeing he did not understand one word of their language, nor they one of his. To remove this difficulty, I told him Friday's father had learned Spanish, which I found he also understood, and he should serve him as an interpreter, so he was much better satisfied, and nothing could persuade him but he would stay and endeavor to convert them, but Providence gave another very happy turn to all this. I come back now to the first part of his objections. When we came to the Englishmen, I sent for them all together, and after some account given them of what I had done for them, vis what necessary things I had provided for them, and how they were distributed, which they were very sensible of and very thankful for, I began to talk to them of the scandalous life they led, and gave them a full account of the notice the clergymen had taken of it, and arguing how un-Christian and irreligious life it was, I first asked them if they were married men or bachelors. They soon explained their condition to me, and showed that two of them were widowers, and the other three were single men or bachelors. I asked them with what conscience they could take these women, and call them their wives, and have so many children by them, and not be lawfully married to them. They all gave me the answer I expected, vis that there was nobody to marry them, that they agreed before the governor to keep them as their wives, and to maintain them and own them as their wives, and they thought, as things stood with them, they were as legally married as if they had been married by a parson, and with all the formalities in the world. I told them that no doubt they were married in the sight of God, and were bound in conscience to keep them as their wives, but that the laws of men being otherwise they might desert the poor women and children here after, and that their wives, being poor desolate women, friendless and moneyless, would have no way to help themselves. I therefore told them that, unless I was assured of their honest intent, I could do nothing for them, but would take care that what I did should be for the women and children without them, and that, unless they would give me some assurances that they would marry the women, I could not think it was convenient they should continue together as man and wife, for that it was both scandalous to men and offensive to God who they could not think would bless them if they went on thus. All this went on as I expected, and they told me, especially Will Atkins, who now seemed to speak for the rest, that they loved their wives as well as if they had been born in their own native country, and would not leave them on any account whatever, and they did verily believe that their wives were as virtuous and as modest, and did, to the utmost of their skill, as much for them and for their children, as any woman could possibly do, and they would not part with them on any account. Will Atkins, for his own particular, added that if any man would take him away and offer to carry him home to England, and make him captain of the best man of war in the Navy, he would not go with him if he might not carry his wife and children with him, and if there was a clergyman in the ship, he would be married to her now with all his heart. This was just as I would have it. The priest was not with me at that moment, but he was not far off, so to try him further I told him I had a clergyman with me, and if he was sincere I would have him married next morning, and bade him consider of it and talk with the rest. He said as for himself he need not consider of it at all, for he was very ready to do it, and was glad I had a minister with me, and he believed they would be all willing also. I then told him that my friend, the minister, was a Frenchman and could not speak English, but I would act the clerk between them. He never so much as asked me whether he was a papist or Protestant, which was indeed what I was afraid of. We then parted, and I went back to my clergyman, and Will Atkins went in to talk with his companions. I desired the French gentleman not to say anything to them till the business was thoroughly ripe, and I told him what answer the men had given me. Before I went from their quarter they all came to me and told me they had been considering what I had said, that they were glad to hear I had a clergyman in my company, and they were very willing to give me the satisfaction I desired, and to be formally married as soon as I pleased, for they were far from desiring depart with their wives, and that they meant nothing but what was very honest when they chose them. So I appointed them to meet me the next morning, and in the meantime they should let their wives know the meaning of the marriage law, and that it was not only to prevent any scandal, but also to oblige them that they should not forsake them whatever might happen. The women were easily made sensible of the meaning of the thing, and were very well satisfied with it, as indeed they had reason to be. So they failed not to attend all together at my apartment next morning, where I brought out my clergyman, and though he had not on a minister's gown after the manner of England, or the habit of a priest after the manner of France, yet having a black vest something like a cassock with a sash round it, he did not look very unlike a minister, and as for his language I was his interpreter. But the seriousness of his behavior to them, and the scruples he made of marrying the women, because they were not baptized and professed Christians, gave them an exceeding reverence for his person, and there was no need after that to inquire whether he was a clergyman or not. Indeed, I was afraid his scruples would have been carried so far as that he would not have married them at all. Nay, notwithstanding all I was able to say to him, he resisted me, though modestly yet very steadily, and at last refused absolutely to marry them, unless he had first talked with the men and the women too, and though at first I was a little backward to it, yet at last I agreed to it with a goodwill, perceiving the sincerity of his design. When he came to them he let them know that I had acquainted him with their circumstances, and with the present design, that he was very willing to perform that part of his function and marry them, as I had desired, but that before he could do it he must take the liberty to talk with them. He told them that in the sight of all indifferent men, and in the sense of the laws of society, they had lived all this while in a state of sin, and it was true that nothing but the consenting to marry, or effectually separating them from one another, could now put an end to it. But there was a difficulty in it too, with respect to the laws of Christian matrimony, which he was not fully satisfied about, that of marrying one that is a professed Christian to a savage, an idolater and a heathen, one that is not baptized, and yet he did not see that there was time left to endeavor to persuade the women to be baptized, or to profess the name of Christ, whom they had, he doubted, heard nothing of, and without which they could not be baptized. He told them he doubted they were but indifferent Christians themselves, that they had but little knowledge of God or of his ways, and therefore he could not expect that they had said much to their wives on that head yet, but that unless they would promise him to use their endeavors with their wives to persuade them to become Christians, and would, as well as they could, instruct them in the knowledge and belief of God that made them, and to worship Jesus Christ that redeemed them, he could not marry them, for he would have no hand in joining Christians with savages, nor was it consistent with the principles of the Christian religion, and was indeed expressly forbidden in God's law. They heard all this very attentively, and I delivered it very faithfully to them from his mouth as near his own words as I could, only sometimes adding something of my own to convince them how just it was, and that I was of his mind, and I always very carefully distinguished between what I said from myself and what were the clergyman's words. They told me it was very true what the gentlemen said, that they were very indifferent Christians themselves, and that they had never talked to their wives about religion. Lord, sir, says Will Atkins, how should we teach them religion, why we know nothing ourselves, and besides, sir, said he, should we talk to them of God and Jesus Christ and heaven and hell, it would make them laugh at us and ask us what we believe ourselves, and if we should tell them that we believe all the things we speak of to them, such as of good people going to heaven and wicked people to the devil, they would ask us where we intend to go ourselves, that believe all this and are such wicked fellows as we indeed are. Why, sir, it is enough to give them a surfeit of religion at first hearing. Folks must have some religion themselves before they begin to teach other people. Will Atkins, said I to him, though I am afraid that what you say has too much truth in it, yet can you not tell your wife she is in the wrong, that there is a God and a religion better than her own, that her gods are idols, that they can neither hear nor speak, that there is a great being that made all things, and that can destroy all that he has made, that he rewards the good and punishes the bad, and that we are to be judged by him at last for all we do here. You are not so ignorant, but even nature itself will teach you that all this is true, and I am satisfied you know it all to be true and believe it yourself. That is true, sir, said Atkins, but with what face can I say anything to my wife of all this when she will tell me immediately it cannot be true? Not true, said I, what do you mean by that? Why, sir, said he, she will tell me it cannot be true, that this God I shall tell her of can be just, or can punish or reward, since I am not punished and sent to the devil, that have been such a wicked creature as she knows I have been, even to her, and to everybody else, and that I should be suffered to live, that have been always acting so contrary to what I must tell her is good, and to what I ought to have done. Why truly, Atkins, said I, I am afraid thou speakest too much truth, and with that I informed the clergyman of what Atkins had said, for he was impatient to know. Oh, said the priest, tell him there is one thing that will make him the best minister in the world to his wife, and that is repentance, for none teach repentance like true penitence. He wants nothing but to repent, and then he will be so much the better qualified to instruct his wife. He will then be able to tell her that there is not only a God, and that he is the just rewarder of good and evil, but that he is a merciful being, and with infinite goodness and long suffering, for bears to punish those that offend, waiting to be gracious, and willing not the death of a sinner, but rather that he should return and live, and even reserves damnation to the general day of retribution, that it is a clear evidence of God, and of a future state, that righteous men receive not their reward, or wicked men their punishment, till they come into another world, and this will lead him to teach his wife the doctrine of the resurrection and of the last judgment. Let him but repent himself, he will be an excellent preacher of repentance to his wife. I repeated all this to Atkins, who looked very serious all the while, and, as we could easily perceive, was more than ordinarily affected with it, when being eager and hardly suffering me to make an end, I know all this, master, says he, and a great deal more, but I have not the impudence to talk thus to my wife, when God and my conscience know, and my wife will be an undeniable evidence against me, but I have lived as if I had never heard of a God or future state, or anything about it, and a talk of my repenting, alas! And with that he fetched a deep sigh, and I could see that the tears stood in his eyes. Tis past all that with me. Past it, Atkins, said I, what dost thou mean by that? I know well enough what I mean, says he, I mean tis too late, and that is too true. I told the clergyman word for word what he said, and disaffectionate man could not refrain from tears, but recovering himself said to me, Ask him but one question. Is he easy that it is too late, or is he troubled, and wishes it were not so? I put the question fairly to Atkins, and he answered with a great deal of passion, How could any man be easy in a condition that must certainly end in eternal destruction? That he was far from being easy, but that on the contrary he believed it would one time or other ruin him. What do you mean by that, said I? Why, he said, A believed he should one time or other, God his throat to put an end to the terror of it. The clergyman shook his head with great concern in his face when I told him all this, but turning quick to me upon it says, If that be his case we may assure him it is not too late, Christ will give him repentance. But pray, says he, explain this to him, that as no man is saved but by Christ, and the merit of his passion procuring divine mercy for him, how can it be too late for any man to receive mercy? Does he think he is able to sin beyond the power or reach of divine mercy? Pray tell him there may be a time when provoked mercy will no longer strive, and when God may refuse to hear, but that it is never too late for men to ask mercy, and we that are Christ's servants, are commanded to preach mercy at all times, in the name of Jesus Christ, do all that sincerely repent, so that it is never too late to repent. I told Adkins all this, and he heard me with great earnestness, but it seemed as if he turned off the discourse to the rest, for he said to me he would go and have some talk with his wife, so he went out a while, and we talked to the rest. I perceived they were all stupidly ignorant as to matters of religion, as much as I was when I went rambling away from my father, yet there were none of them backward to hear what had been said, and all of them seriously promised that they would talk with their wives about it, and do their endeavors to persuade them to turn Christians. The clergyman smiled upon me when I reported what answer they gave, but said nothing a good while, but at last shaking his head, we that are Christ's servants, said he, can go no further than to exhort and instruct, and when men comply, submit to the reproof, and promise what we ask, these all we can do, we are bound to accept their good words, but believe me, sir, said he, whatever you may have known of the life of that man you call Will Atkins, I believe he is the only sincere convert among them. I will not despair of the rest, but that man is apparently struck with the sense of his past life, and I doubt not when he comes to talk of religion to his wife. He will talk himself effectually into it, for attempting to teach others is sometimes the best way of teaching ourselves. If that poor Atkins begins but wants to talk seriously of Jesus Christ to his wife, he will assuredly talk himself into a thorough convent, make himself a penitent, and who knows what may follow. Upon this discourse, however, and their promising as above, to endeavor to persuade their wives to embrace Christianity, he married the other two couples, but Will Atkins and his wife were not yet come in. After this my clergyman, waiting a while, was curious to know where Atkins was gone, and turning to me said, I entreat you, sir, let us walk out of your labyrinth here and look, I dare say we shall find this poor man somewhere or other talking seriously to his wife, and teaching her already something of religion. I began to be of the same mind, so we went out together, and I carried him away which none knew but myself, and where the trees were so very thick that it was not easy to see through the thicket of leaves, and far harder to see in than to see out. When coming to the edge of the wood, I saw Atkins and his tawny wife sitting under the shade of a bush very eager in discourse. I stopped short till my clergyman came up to me, and then having showed him where they were, he stood and looked very steadily at them a good while. We observed him very earnest with her, pointing up to the sun, and to every quarter of the heavens, and then down to the earth, then out to the sea, then to himself, then to her, to the woods, to the trees. Now, says the clergyman, you'll see my words are made good, the man preaches to her, mark him now, he is telling her that our God has made him, her, and the heavens, the earth, the sea, the woods, the trees, etc. I believe he is, said I. Immediately we perceived Will Atkins start upon his feet, fall down on his knees, and lift up both his hands. We supposed he said something, but we could not hear him, it was too far for that. He did not continue kneeling half a minute, but comes and sits down again by his wife, and talks to her again. We perceived then the woman very attentive, but whether she said anything to him we could not tell. While the poor fellow was upon his knees I could see the tears run plentifully down my clergyman's cheeks, and I could hardly forbear myself, but it was a great affliction to us both that we were not near enough to hear anything that passed between them. Well, however, we could come no nearer for fear of disturbing them, so we resolved to see an end of this piece of still conversation, and it spoke loud enough to us without the help of voice. He sat down again, as I have said, close by her, and talked again earnestly to her, and two or three times we could see him embrace her most passionately, another time we saw him take out his handkerchief and wipe her eyes, and then kiss her again with a kind of transport, very unusual. And after several of these things we saw him on a sudden jump up again, and lend her his hand to help her up, when immediately leading her by the hand a step or two, they both kneeled down together and continued so about two minutes. My friend could bear it no longer, but cries out aloud, Saint Paul, Saint Paul, behold, he prayeth. I was afraid Atkins would hear him, therefore I entreated him to withhold himself a while, that we might see an end of the scene, which to me, I must confess, was the most affecting that ever I saw in my life. Well, he strove with himself for a while, but was in such raptures to think that the poor heathen woman was become a Christian that he was not able to contain himself. He wept several times, then throwing up his hands and crossing his breast said over several things ejaculatory, and by the way of giving God thanks for so miraculous a testimony of the success of our endeavors. Some he spoke softly and I could not well hear others, some things he said in Latin, some in French, then two or three times the tears would interrupt him, that he could not speak at all, but I begged that he would contain himself, and let us more narrowly and fully observe what was before us, which he did for a time, the scene not being near-ended yet, for after the poor man and his wife were risen again from their knees, we observed he stood talking still eagerly to her, and we observed her motion, that she was greatly affected with what he said, by her frequently lifting up her hands, laying her hand to her breast, and such other postures as expressed the greatest seriousness and attention. This continued about half a quarter of an hour, and then they walked away, so we could see no more of them in that situation. I took this interval to say to the clergymen, first, that I was glad to see the particulars we had both been witnesses to, that, though I was hard enough of belief in such cases, yet that I began to think it was all very sincere here, both in the man and his wife, however ignorant they might both be, and I hoped such a beginning would yet have a more happy end. But, my friend, added I, will you give me leave to start one difficulty here? I cannot tell how to object the least thing against that affectionate concern which you show for the turning of the poor people from their paganism to the Christian religion, but how does this comfort you, while these people are, in your account, out of the pale of the Catholic Church, without which you believe there is no salvation, so that you esteem these but heretics, as effectually lost as the pagans themselves? To this he answered with abundance of candor, thus, Sir, I am a Catholic of the Roman Church, and a priest of the Order of St. Benedict, and I embrace all the principles of the Roman faith, but yet, if you will believe me, and that I do not speak in compliment to you, or in respect to my circumstances and your civilities, I say nevertheless, I do not look upon you, who call yourselves reformed, without some charity. I dare not say, though I know it is our opinion in general, that you cannot be saved, I will by no means limit the mercy of Christ, so far as you think that he cannot receive you into the bosom of his Church, in a manner to us unperceivable, and I hope you have the same charity for us. I pray daily for you being all restored to Christ's Church, by whatsoever method he, who is all wise, is pleased to direct. In the meantime, surely you will allow it consist with me as a Roman, to distinguish far between a Protestant and a Pagan, between one that calls on Jesus Christ, though in a way which I do not think is according to the true faith, and a savage or a barbarian, that knows no God, no Christ, no Redeemer, and if you are not within the pale of the Catholic Church, we hope you are nearer being restored to it than those who know nothing of God or of his Church, and I rejoice therefore, when I see this poor man, who you say has been a profligate, and almost a murderer, kneel down and pray to Jesus Christ, as we suppose he did, though not fully enlightened, believing that God, from whom every sush proceeds, will sensibly touch his heart, and bring him to the further knowledge of that truth in his own time, and if God shall influence this poor man to convert, and instruct the ignorant savage, his wife, I can never believe that he shall be cast away himself. And have I not reason then to rejoice, the nearer any are brought to the knowledge of Christ, though they may not be brought quite home into the bosom of the Catholic Church, just at the time when I desire it, leaving it to the goodness of Christ to perfect his work in his own time, and in his own way, certainly I would rejoice if all these savages in America were brought, like this poor woman, to pray to God, though they were all to be protestants at first, rather than that they should continue pagans or heathens, firmly believing that he that had bestowed the first light on them, would further illuminate them with a beam of his heavenly grace, and bring them into the pale of his church, when he should see good. CHAPTER VII I was astonished at the sincerity and temper of this pious papest as much as I was oppressed by the power of his reasoning, and it presently occurred to my thoughts that if such a temper was universal, we might be all Catholic Christians, whatever church or particular profession we joined in, that a spirit of charity would soon work us all up into right principles, and as he thought that the like charity would make us all Catholics, so I told him I believed, had all the members of his church the like moderation, they would soon all be protestants, and there we left that part, for we never disputed at all. However, I talked to him another way, and taking him by the hand. My friend, says I, I wish all the clergy of the Romus Church were blessed with such moderation, and had an equal share of your charity. I am entirely of your opinion, but I must tell you that if you should preach such doctrine in Spain or Italy, they would put you into the inquisition. It may be so, said he, I know not what they would do in Spain or Italy, but I will not say they would be the better Christians for that severity, for I am sure there is no heresy in abounding with charity. Well, as Will Atkins and his wife were gone, our business there was over, so we went back our own way, and when we came back we found them waiting to be called in. Observing this, I asked my clergyman if we should not discover to him that we had seen him under the bush or not, and it was his opinion we should not, but that we should talk to him first, and hear what he would say to us, so we called him in alone, nobody being in the place but ourselves, and I began by asking him some particulars about his parentage and education. He told me frankly enough that his father was a clergyman who would have taught him well, but that he, Will Atkins, despised all instruction and correction, and by his brutish conduct cut the thread of all his father's comforts and shortened his days, for that he broke his heart by the most ungrateful, unnatural return for the most affectionate treatment a father ever gave. In what he said there seemed so much sincerity of repentance that it painfully affected me, I could not but reflect that I too had shortened the life of a good, tender father by my bad conduct and obstinate self-will. I was indeed so surprised with what he had told me that I thought, instead of my going about to teach and instruct him, the man was made a teacher and instructor to me in a most unexpected manner. I laid all this before the young clergyman, who was greatly affected with it, and said to me, Did I not say, sir, that when this man was converted he would preach to us all? I tell you, sir, if this one man be made a true penitent, there will be no need of me, he will make Christians of all in the island. But having a little composed myself I renewed my discourse with Will Atkins. But Will, said I, how comes the sense of this matter to touch you just now? Sir, you have set me about a work that is struck a dart through my very soul. I have been talking about God and religion to my wife in order, as you directed me, to make a Christian of her, and she has preached such a sermon to me as I shall never forget while I live. No, no, it is not your wife has preached to you, but when you were moving religious arguments to her, conscience has flung them back upon you. I, sir, with such force as is not to be resisted. Pray, Will, let us know what passed between you and your wife, for I know something of it already. Sir, it is impossible to give you a full account of it. I am too full to hold it, and yet have no tongue to express it. But let her have said what she will, though I cannot give you an account of it, this I can tell you, that I have resolved to amend and reform my life. But tell us some of it. How did you begin, Will? For this has been an extraordinary case that is certain. She has preached a sermon indeed if she has wrought this upon you. Why, I first told her the nature of our laws about marriage, and what the reasons were that men and women were obliged to enter into such compacts as it was neither in the power of one nor other to break, that otherwise order and justice would not be maintained, and men would run from their wives and abandon their children, mix confusedly with one another, and neither families be kept entire nor inheritance says be settled by legal dissent. You talk like a civilian, Will. Could you make her understand what you meant by inheritance and families? They know no such things among the savages, but marry anyhow, without regard to relation, consanguinity or family, brother and sister, nay, as I have been told, even the father and the daughter, and the son and the mother. I believe, sir, you are misinformed, and my wife assures me of the contrary, and that they abhor it, perhaps. For any further relations they may not be so exact as we are, but she tells me never in the near relationship you speak of. Well, what did she say to what you told her? She said she liked it very well, as it was much better than in her country. But did you tell her what marriage was? I, I, there began our dialogue. I asked her if she would be married to me our way. She asked me what way that was. I told her marriage was appointed by God, and here we had a strange talk together, indeed, as ever man and wife had, I believe. N. B., this dialogue between Will Atkins and his wife, which I took down in writing just after he told it me, was as follows. Appointed by your God, why, have you a God in your country? Yes, my dear, God is in every country. No, your God in my country, my country, have the great old binamooki God. Child, I am very unfit to show you who God is. God is in heaven, and made to heaven and the earth, the sea, and all that is in them. No maki the earth, no you God maki all earth, no maki my country. Will Atkins laughed a little at her expression of God not making her country. No laugh, why laugh me? There's no thing to laugh. He was justly reproved by his wife, for she was more serious than he at first. That's true indeed. I will not laugh any more, my dear. Why, you say you God maki all? Yes, child, our God made the whole world, and you and me and all things, for he is the only true God, and there is no God but him. He lives forever in heaven. Why, you know, tell me long ago. That's true indeed, but I have been a wicked wretch, and have not only forgotten to acquaint thee with anything before, but have lived without God in the world myself. What, have you a great God in your country? You no know him? No say oh to him, no too good thing for him? That no possible. It is true, though, for all that we live as if there was no God in heaven, or that he had no power on earth. But why, God, let you do so. Why, he no maki you good live. It is all our own vault. But you say me he is great, much great, have much great power, can make he kill when he will. Why, he no maki kill when you no serve him, no say oh to him, no be good man's. That is true, he might strike me dead, and I ought to expect it, for I have been a wicked wretch. That is true. But God is merciful, and does not deal with us as we deserve. But then do you not tell God, thank ye for that too? No indeed. I have not thanked God for his mercy any more than I have feared God from his power. Then you God, no God. Me no think believe he be such one, great much power, strong, no make he kill you, though you make him much angry. What will my wicked life hinder you from believing in God? What a dreadful creature am I? And what a sad truth is it that the horrid lives of Christians hinder the conversion of heathens. How me tink you have great much God up there, she points up to heaven, and yet no do well, no do good tink. Can he tell? Sure he no tell what you do. Yes, yes, he knows and sees all things. He hears us speak, sees what we do, knows what we think, though we do not speak. What? He no hear you curse, swear, speak thee great damn? Yes, yes, he hears it all. We'll be then the much great power strong. He is merciful, that is all we can say for it, and this proves him to be the true God. He is God and not man, and therefore we are not consumed. Here Will Atkins told us he was struck with horror to think how he could tell his wife so clearly that God sees, and hears, and knows the secret thoughts of the heart, and all that we do, and yet that he had dared to do all the vile things he had done. Merciful, what you call that? He is our Father and Maker, and he pities and spares us. So then he never make he kill, never angry when you do wicked? Then he no good himself, or no great able? Yes, yes, my dear, he is infinitely good and infinitely great, and able to punish too, and sometimes to show his justice and vengeance he lets fly his anger to destroy sinners, and make examples, many are cut off in their sins. But no make he kill you yet, then he tell you maybe that he no make you kill, so you make he the bargain with him. You do bad thing, he no be angry at you when he be angry at other man's. No indeed, my sins are all presumptions upon his goodness, and he would be infinitely just if he destroyed me as he has done other men. Well, and yet no kill, no make you dead? What you say to him for that? You no tell him thanky for all that too? I am an unthankful, ungrateful dog, that is true. Why he no make you much good better? You say he make you? He made me as he made all the world, it is I have deformed myself and abused his goodness, and made myself an abominable wretch. I wish you make he God no me, I no make he in angry, I no do bad wicked thing. Here will Atkins said his heart sunk within him to hear a poor untaught creature desire to be taught to no God, and he such a wicked wretch that he could not say one word to her about God, but what the reproach of his own carriage would make most irrational to her to believe. Nay, that already she had told him that she could not believe in God, because he that was so wicked was not destroyed. My dear, you mean you wish I could teach you to no God, not God to no you, for he knows you already, and every thought in your heart. Why then, he know what I say to you now, he know me wish to know him, how shall me know who making me? Poor creature, he must teach thee, I cannot teach thee, I will pray to him to teach thee to know him, and forgive me that am unworthy to teach thee. The poor fellow was in such an agony at her desiring him to make her no God, and her wishing to know him, that he said he fell down on his knees before her, and prayed to God to enlighten her mind with the saving knowledge of Jesus Christ, and to pardon his sins, and accept of his being the unworthy instrument of instructing her in the principles of religion, after which he sat down by her again, and their dialogue went on. This was the time when we saw him kneel down and hold up his hands. What you put down the knee for, what you hold up the hand for, what you say, who you speak to, what is all that? My dear, I bow my knees in token of my submission to him that made me, I said oh to him as you call it, and as your old men do to their idol been a mucky, that is, I prayed to him. What you say oh to him for? I prayed to him to open your eyes and your understanding that you may know him, and be accepted by him. Can he do that too? Yes he can, he can do all things, but now he hear what you say. Yes, he has bid us pray to him and promise to hear us. Bid you pray, when he bid you, how he bid you, what you hear him speak. No, we do not hear him speak, but he has revealed himself many ways to us. Here he was at a great loss to make her understand that God has revealed himself to us by his word, and what his word was, but at last he told it to her thus. God has spoken to some good men in former days, even from heaven by plain words, and God has inspired good men by his spirit, and they have written all his laws down in a book. Me know understand that, where is book? Alas, my poor creature, I have not this book, but I hope I shall one time or other get it for you, and help you to read it. Here he embraced her with great affection, but with inexpressible grief that he had not a Bible. But how you make me know that God teache them to write that book, by the same rule that we know him to be God? What rule? What way you know him? Because he teaches and commands nothing but what is good, righteous, and holy, and tends to make us perfectly good, as well as perfectly happy, and because he forbids and commands us to avoid all that is wicked, that is evil in itself, or evil in its consequence. That me would understand, that me fain see, if he teache all good thing, he makee all good thing, he give all thing, he hear me when I say all to him, as you do just now, he makee me good if I wish to be good, he spare me, no makee kill me, when I know be good, all this you say he do, yet he be great God, me take, think, believe him to be great God, me say all to him with you, my dear. Here the poor man could forbear no longer, but raised her up, made her kneel by him, and he prayed to God aloud to instruct her in the knowledge of himself, by his spirit, and that by some good providence, if possible, she might, some time or other, come to have a Bible, that she might read the word of God, and be taught by it to know him. This was the time that we saw him lift her up by the hand, and saw him kneel down by her, as above. They had several other discourses, it seems, after this, and particularly she made him promise that, since he confessed his own life had been a wicked, abominable course of provocations against God, that he would reform it, and not make God angry any more, lest he should make him dead, as she called it, and then she would be left alone, and never be taught to know this God better, and lest he should be miserable, as he had told her wicked men would be after death. This was a strange account, and very affecting to us both, but particularly to the young clergymen. He was, indeed, wonderfully surprised with it, but under the greatest affliction imaginable, that he could not talk to her, that he could not speak English to make her understand him, and as she spoke but very broken English, he could not understand her. However, he turned himself to me, and told me that he believed there must be more to do with this woman than to marry her. I did not understand him at first, but at length he explained himself, vis that she ought to be baptized. I agreed with him in that part readily, and wished it to be done presently. No, no, hold, sir, says he, though I would have her be baptized by all means, I must observe that we Latkins, her husband, has indeed brought her in a wonderful manner, to be willing to embrace a religious life, and has given her just ideas of the being of a God, of his power, justice, and mercy. Yet I desire to know of him if he has said anything to her of Jesus Christ, and of the salvation of sinners, of the nature of faith in him, and redemption by him, of the Holy Spirit, the Resurrection, the Last Judgement, and the Future State. I called Will Latkins again, and asked him, but the poor fellow fell immediately into tears, and told us he had said something to her of all those things, but that he himself was so wicked a creature, and his own conscience so reproached him with his horrid, ungodly life, that he trembled at the apprehensions that her knowledge of him should lessen the attention she should give to those things, and made her rather condemn religion than receive it. But he was assured, he said, that her mind was so disposed to receive due impressions of all those things, and that if I would but discourse with her, she would make it appear to my satisfaction that my labor would not be lost upon her. Accordingly I called her in, and placing myself as interpreter between my religious priest and the woman, I entreated him to begin with her, but sure such a sermon was never preached by a Popish priest in these latter ages of the world, and as I told him I thought he had all the zeal, all the knowledge, all the sincerity of a Christian without the error of a Roman Catholic, and that I took him to be such a clergyman as the Roman bishops were before the Church of Rome assumed spiritual sovereignty over the consciences of men. In a word, he brought the poor woman to embrace the knowledge of Christ and of redemption by him, not with wonder and astonishment only, as she did the first notions of a God, but with joy and faith, with an affection and a surprising degree of understanding, scarce to be imagined, much less to be expressed, and at her own request she was baptized. When he was preparing to baptize her I entreated him that he would perform that office with some caution, that the man might not perceive he was of the Roman Church, if possible, because of other ill consequences which might attend a difference among us in that very religion which we were instructing the other in. He told me that as he had no consecrated chapel, nor proper things for the office, I should see he would do it in a manner that I should not know by it that he was a Roman Catholic myself, if I had not known it before. And so he did, for saying only some words over to himself in Latin, which I could not understand, he poured a whole dishful of water upon the woman's head, pronouncing in French, very loud, Mary, which was the name her husband desired me to give her, for I was her godfather, I baptized the Indian name of the father, and of this son, and of the Holy Ghost, so that none could know anything by it what religion he was of. He gave the benediction afterwards in Latin, but either Wil Atkins did not know but it was French, or else did not take notice of it at that time. As soon as this was over we married them, and after the marriage was over he turned to Wil Atkins, and in a very affectionate manner exhorted him not only to persevere in that good disposition he was in, but to support the convictions that were upon him by a resolution to reform his life, told him it was in vain to say he repented if he did not forsake his crimes, represented to him how God had honored him with being the instrument of bringing his wife to the knowledge of the Christian religion, and that he should be careful he did not dishonor the grace of God, and that if he did he would see the heathen a better Christian than himself, the savage converted, and the instrument cast away. He said a great many things to them both, and then, recommending them to God's goodness, gave them the benediction again, I repeating everything to them in English, and thus ended the ceremony. I think it was the most pleasant and agreeable day to me that ever I passed in my whole life. But my clergyman had not done yet, his thoughts hung continually upon the conversion of the thirty-seven savages, and Fein B would have stayed upon the island to have undertaken it, but I convinced him first that his understanding was impracticable in itself, and secondly that perhaps I would put it into a way of being done in his absence to his satisfaction. Having thus brought the affairs of the island to a narrow compass, I was preparing to go on board the ship, when the young man I had taken out of the famished ship's company came to me, and told me he understood I had a clergyman with me, and that I had caused the Englishmen to be married to the savages, that he had a match too, which he desired might be finished before I went, between two Christians, which he hoped would not be disagreeable to me. I knew this must be the young woman who was his mother's servant, for there was no other Christian woman on the island, so I began to persuade him not to do anything of that kind rashly, or because he found himself in this solitary circumstance. I represented to him that he had some considerable substance in the world, and good friends, as I understood by himself, and the maid also, that the maid was not only poor and a servant, but was unequal to him, she being six or seven and twenty years old, and he not above seventeen or eighteen, that he might very probably, with my assistance, make a remove from this wilderness, and come into his own country again, and that then it would be a thousand to one, but he would repent his choice, and the dislike of that circumstance might be disadvantageous to both. I was going to say more, but he interrupted me, smiling, and told me, with a great deal of modesty, that I mistook in my guesses, that he had nothing of that kind in his thoughts, and he was very glad to hear that I had an intent of putting them in a way to see their own country again, and nothing should have made him think of staying there, but that the voyage I was going was so exceeding long and hazardous, and would carry him quite out of the reach of all his friends, that he had nothing to desire of me but that I would settle him in some little property in the island where he was, give him a servant or two, and some few necessaries, and he would live here like a planter, waiting the good time when, if ever I returned to England, I would redeem him. He hoped I would not be unmindful of him when I came to England, that he would give me some letters to his friends in London, to let them know how good I had been to him, and in what part of the world and what circumstances I had left him in, and he promised me that whenever I redeemed him, the plantation, and all the improvements he had made upon it, let the value be what it would, should be holy mine. His discourse was very prettily delivered, considering his youth, and was the more agreeable to me, because he told me positively the match was not for himself. I gave him all possible assurances that if I lived to come safe to England, I would deliver his letters, and do his business effectually, and that he might depend I should never forget the circumstances I had left him in. But still I was impatient to know who was the person to be married, upon which he told me it was my jack of all trades and his maid Susan. I was most agreeably surprised when he named the match, for indeed I thought it very suitable. The character of that man I have given already, and as for the maid, she was a very honest, modest, sober, and religious young woman, had a very good share of sense, was agreeable enough in her person, spoke very handsomely and to the purpose, always with decency and good manners, and was neither too backward to speak when requisite, nor impertinently forward when it was not her business, very handy and house wifely, and an excellent manager, fit indeed to have been governess to the whole island, and she knew very well how to behave in every respect. The match being proposed in this manner, we married them the same day, and as I was father at the altar and gave her away, so I gave her a portion, for I appointed her and her husband a handsome large space of ground for their plantation, and indeed this match and the proposal the young gentleman made to give him a small property in the island, put me upon, parceling it out amongst them, that they might not quarrel afterwards about their situation. This sharing out the land to them I left to Will Atkins, who was now grown a sober, grave, managing fellow, perfectly reformed, exceedingly pious and religious, and as far as I may be allowed to speak positively in such a case, I verily believe he was a true penitent. He divided things so justly, and so much to every one's satisfaction, that they only desired one general writing under my hand for the whole, which I caused to be drawn up, and signed and sealed, setting out the bounds and situation of every man's plantation, and testifying that I gave them thereby, severally, a right to the whole possession and inheritance of the respective plantations or farms, with their improvements, to them and their heirs, reserving all the rest of the island as my own property, and a certain rent for every particular plantation after eleven years, if I, or anyone from me, or in my name, came to demand it, producing an attested copy of the same writing. As to the government and laws among them, I told them I was not capable of giving them better rules than they were able to give themselves, only I made them promise me to live in love and good neighbourhood with one another, and so I prepared to leave them. One thing I must not omit, and that is, that being now settled in a kind of common wealth among themselves and having much business in hand, it was odd to have seven and thirty Indians live in a nook of the island independent and indeed unemployed, for except the providing themselves food which they had difficulty enough to do sometimes, they had no manner of business or property to manage. I proposed, therefore, to the Governor Spaniard that he should go to them, with Friday's father, and propose to them to remove, and either plant for themselves, or be taken in to their several families as servants, to be maintained for their labour, but without being absolute slaves, for I would not permit them to make them slaves by force, by any means, because they had their liberty given them by capitulation, as it were articles of surrender which they ought not to break. They most willingly embraced the proposal, and came all very cheerfully along with him, so we allotted them land and plantations, which three or four accepted of, but all the rest chose to be employed as servants in the several families we had settled. Thus my colony was in a manner settled as follows. The Spaniards possessed my original habitation, which was the capital city, and extended their plantations all along the side of the brook, which made the creek that I have so often described, as far as my bower, and as they increased their culture it went always eastward. The English lived in the northeast part, where Will Atkins and his comrades began, and came on southward and southwest towards the back part of the Spaniards, and every plantation had a great addition of land to take in if they found occasion, so that they need not jostle one another for want of room. All the east end of the island was left uninhabited, that if any of the savages should come on shore there, only for their customary barbarities, they might come and go, if they disturbed nobody, nobody would disturb them, and no doubt they were often ashore, and went away again, for I never heard that the planters were ever attacked or disturbed any more.