, or they may have been 'Seekers' meeting together here in
Nottinghamshire, as they did in the North, at Sedbergh and Preston
Patrick and many another place, 'not celebrating Baptism or the Holy
Communion,' but 'waiting together in silence to be instruments in the
hand of the Lord.' Truly helpful 'instruments' they proved to little
James, for they sent him straight on to Nottingham, where a company of
'Children of Light' was already gathered, to worship God. 'Children of
Light' is the first, and the most beautiful, name given to the Society
of Friends in England.

When these Nottingham Friends saw the vehement, impulsive boy, his
thin frame trembling, his eyes glowing, as he poured forth his
difficulties, naturally their thoughts went back to the other lad who
had also passed through severe soul struggles in this same
neighbourhood, some ten or twelve years earlier.

They all said to him, one after the other, 'James Parnell, thou must
see George Fox.'

'George Fox!' cried little James eagerly, 'I have never even heard his
name. Who is he? Where is he? I will go and find him this very moment,
if he can help me.'

At these words, all the Nottingham Friends shook their heads very
solemnly and sadly and said, 'That is impossible, James, for our
Friend languisheth in Carlisle Gaol. But we can tell thee of him.'

Then one after another they recounted the well-known story of George
Fox's boyhood, of his difficulties, of his seeking, of his finding,
and lastly of his preaching, when the Power of God shone through him
as he spoke, and melted men's hearts till they became as wax.

James, drinking in every word, exclaimed breathlessly as soon as the
story was finished, 'That is the man for me. I will set out for
Carlisle this very minute to find him!'

Of course all the Friends were aghast at the effect of their words.
They declared that he really couldn't and really shouldn't, that it
was out of the question, and that he must do nothing of the kind! They
did their very best to stop him. But little James (who, as we know,
was not in the habit of paying over-much attention to other people's
opinions at any time) treated all these remonstrances as if they had
been thistledown. He swung his small bundle at the end of a short
stick over his shoulder, tightened his belt, tore himself from their
restraining hands, and exclaiming, 'Farewell, Friends, I go to find
George Fox,' off he set on the long, long journey to Carlisle.

H