all
consciences may witness that ye
are sent of God and are of God and
so according to that speak. Sound,
sound the trumpet abroad, ye
valiant soldiers of Christ's
Kingdom, of which there is no
end.... Be famous in his Light and
bold in his strength.'--G. FOX._

_'Let us in our message offer that
which is beyond all creeds,--the
evidence in our lives of communion
with the Spirit of God.'--J. W.
ROWNTREE._

VII. THE PEOPLE IN WHITE RAIMENT

The summer twilight was fading into night. The moon, hidden at her
rising by a bank of clouds, had now climbed high above them, and shone
down, a golden lamp from the clear evening sky. It was already dusk
when the Shepherd of Pendle disappeared with his flock into the dewy
valley. It was already light again, with the pallid light of the moon,
when at length George Fox descended old Pendle Hill. Heavily he trod
and slowly. Wrapped in thought was he, as a man who has seen things
greater and more mysterious than he can express or comprehend. Only as
he descended the slope of the hill did he remember that he was bodily
weary, having eaten and drunk little for several days. A short
distance from the summit, his ear caught the tinkle of falling water;
and guided by its gentle music he came to where a tiny spring gushed
out of the hillside, and went leaping on its way, gleaming like a
thread of silver. Fox knelt down upon the soft turf, and dipping his
hand, cup-wise, into the water, he carried with difficulty a few
shining drops to his parched lips. The cool freshness of even this
scanty draught revived him. He looked round, his glance roaming over
the wide landscape that lay, mist-filled and moon-filled, beneath him,
but as yet scarce seeing what he saw. Then, rising and quickening his
steps, he hastened down the hill to the place where, hours before, his
companion, Richard Farnsworth, had promised to await his return.

Even faithful Richard had grown weary, as time passed and the night
drew on apace. He had been minded to chide his friend for his
forgetfulness and long delay, but as the two men met, something
stopped him, or ever he began to speak. Maybe it was the moonlight
that fell full upon George Fox's countenance, or maybe there was in
truth visible there some faint reflec