_Those keep their skulls warm against North-west gusts,_ _When they in Pulpit do poor_ Calvin _curse._ {104} _Thou art not_ Fortunatus, _for I daily see,_ _That which I wish is farthest off from me:_ _Thy low-built state none ever did advance,_ _To christen thee the_ Cap of Maintenance; _Then till I know from whence thou didst derive,_ _Thou shalt be call’d, the_ Cap of Fugitive. You writ to me this year to send you some Smoak; at that instant it made me wonder that a man of a rational Soul, having both his eyes (blessed be God) should make so unreasonable a demand, when he that has but one eye, nay he which has never a one, and is fain to make use of an Animal conductive for his optick guidance, cannot endure the prejudice that Smoak brings with it: But since you are resolv’d upon it, I’le dispute it no farther. I have sent you that which will make Smoak, (namely Tobacco) though the Funk it self is so slippery that I could not send it, yet I have sent you the Substance from whence the Smoak derives: What use you imploy it to I know not, nor will I be too importunate to know; yet let me tell you this, That if you burn it in a room to affright the Devil from the house, you need not fear but it will work the same effect, as _Tobyes_ galls did upon the leacherous Fiend.   No more at present.   _Vale._ _Your Brother_, G. A. From _Mary-Land_, _Dec._ 11. _Anno_ {105} _To my Honored Friend_ Mr. T. B. SIR, This is the entrance upon my fifth year, and I fear ’twill prove the worst: I have been very much troubled with a throng of unruly Distempers, that have (contrary to my expectation) crouded into the Main-guard of my body, when the drowsie Sentinels of my brain were a sleep. Where they got in I know not, but to my grief and terror I find them predominant: Yet as Doctor _Dunne_, sometimes Dean of St. _Pauls, said, That the bodies diseases do but mellow a man for Heaven, and so ferments him in this World, as he shall need no long concoction in the Grave, but hasten to the Resurrection_. And if this were weighed seriously in the Ballance of Religious Reason, the World we dwell in would not seem so inticing and bewitching as it doth. We are only sent by God of an Errand into this World, and the time that’s allotted us for to stay, is only for an Answer. When God my great Master shall in good earnest call me home, which these warnings tell me I have not long to stay, I hope then I shall be able to give him a good account of my Message. _Sir_, My weakness gives a stop to my writing, my hand being so shakingly feeble, that I can hardly hold my pen any further then to tell you, I am yours {106} while I live, which I believe will be but some few minutes. If this Letter come to you before I’me dead, pray for me, but if I am gone, pray howsoever, for they can do me no harm if they come after me. _Vale._ _Your real Friend_, G. A. From _Mary-Land_, Dec. 13. _Anno_ _To my Parents._