Strife and Wrath and Bitterness and Clamour and Evil-speaking. They walk'd worthy of the Vocation wherewith they were call'd, and adorn'd the Gospel of our Lord in all Things. . . .
Sund. [March] 28. A Servant of Mr. Bradley 's sent to desire to speak with me. Going to him, I found a young man ill, but perfectly sensible. He desired the Rest to go out, and then said, 'On Thursday Night, about Eleven, being in bed, but broad awake, I heard one calling aloud "Peter! Peter Wright!" And looking up, the Room was as light as day, and I saw a man in very bright cloaths stand by the bed, who said, "Prepare yourself for your End is nigh ;" and then immediately all was dark as before." I told him, "The Advice was good whence-soever it came." In a few days he recovered from his illness : His whole temper was changed as well as his life ; and so continued to be, till after three or four weeks he relapsed and died in peace. . . .
Sund. Apr. 4. About Four in the afternoon, I set out for Frederica, in a Pettianga (a sort of flat-bottom'd Barge.) The next Evening we anchor'd near Skidoway Island, where the water at Flood was twelve or fourteen Foot deep. I wrapt myself up from head to foot, in a large cloak, to keep off the Sand-Flies, and lay down on the Quarter Deck. Between One and Two I waked under water, being so fast asleep that I did not find where I was till my mouth was full of it. Having left my cloak, I know not how upon Deck, I swam round to the other side of the Pettiawga, where a boat was ty'd, and climed up by the rope, without any hurt, more than wetting my cloaths. Thou art the God of whom cometh Salvation : Thou art the Lord by whom we escape death. . . .
Thurs. [June] 10. We began to execute at Frederica, what we had before agreed to do at Savannah. Our Design was on Sundays in the Afternoon, and every Evening after Publick Service, to spend some time with the most Serious of the Communicants, in singing, reading and Conversation. This Evening we had only Mark Hird. But on Sunday Mr. Hird, and two more desired to be admitted. After a psalm and a little conversation, I read Mr. Law's Christian Perfection, and concluded with another psalm. . . .
Tuesd. 22. Observing such Coldness in Mr. 's behaviour, I asked him the reason of it. He answer'd, "I like nothing you do ; all your Sermons are Satires upon particular persons. Therefore I will never hear you more. And all the people are of my mind. For we won't hear ourselves abused.
"Beside, they say, they are Protestants. But as for You, they can't
