amily in 1649.

For three or four years, he continued to attend the meetings of the
Independents, as a zealous and devout member. But it so fell out, that
in the winter of 1651, George Fox, who had just been released from a
cruel imprisonment in Derby jail, felt a call to set his face towards
Yorkshire. "So travelling," says Fox, in his Journal, "through the
countries, to several places, preaching Repentance and the Word of Life,
I came into the parts about Wakefield, where James Navler lived." The
worn and weary soldier, covered with the scars of outward battle,
received, as he believed, in the cause of God and his people, against
Antichrist and oppression, welcomed with thankfulness the veteran of
another warfare; who, in conflict with a principalities and powers, and
spiritual wickedness in high places, had made his name a familiar one in
every English hamlet. "He and Thomas Goodyear," says Fox, "came to me,
and were both convinced, and received the truth." He soon after joined
the Society of Friends. In the spring of the next year he was in his
field following his plough, and meditating, as he was wont, on the great
questions of life and duty, when he seemed to hear a voice bidding him go
out from his kindred and his father's house, with an assurance that the
Lord would be with him, while laboring in his service. Deeply impressed,
he left his employment, and, returning to his house, made immediate
preparations for a journey. But hesitation and doubt followed; he became
sick from anxiety of mind, and his recovery, for a time, was exceedingly
doubtful. On his restoration to bodily health, he obeyed what he
regarded as a clear intimation of duty, and went forth a preacher of the
doctrines he had embraced. The Independent minister of the society to
which he had formerly belonged sent after him the story that he was the
victim of sorcery; that George Fox carried with him a bottle, out of
which he made people drink; and that the draught had the power to change
a Presbyterian or Independent into a Quaker at once; that, in short, the
Arch-Quaker, Fox, was a wizard, and could be seen at the same moment of
time riding on the same black horse, in two places widely separated. He
had scarcely commenced his exhortations, before the mob, excited by such
stories, assailed him. In the early summer of the year we hear of him in
Appleby jail. On his release, he fell in company with George Fox. At
Walney Island, he was fur