The next morning we prepared to return home (that is, my father, my younger sister, and myself, for my elder sister was gone before by the stage-coach to London), and when, having taken our leaves of our friends, we went forth, they, with Edward Burrough, accompanying us to the gate, he there directed his speech in a few words to each of us severally, according to the sense he had of our several conditions. And when we were gone off, and they gone in again, they asking him what he thought of us, he answered them, as they afterwards told me, to this effect: “As for the old man, he is settled on his lees, and the young woman is light and airy; but the young man is reached, and may do well if he does not lose it.” And surely that which he said to me, or rather that spirit in which he spoke it, took such fast hold on me, that I felt sadness and trouble come over me, though I did not distinctly understand what I was troubled for. I knew not what I ailed, but I knew I ailed something more than ordinary, and my heart was very heavy. I found it was not so with my father and sister, for as I rode after the coach I could hear them talk pleasantly one to the other; but they could not discern how it was with me, because I, riding on horseback, kept much out of sight. By the time we got home it was night; and the next day, being the first day of the week, I went in the afternoon to hear the minister of Chinner, and this was the last time I ever went to hear any of that function. After the sermon I went with him to his house, and in a freedom of discourse, which, from a certain intimacy that was between us, I commonly used with him, told him where I had been, what company I had met with there, and what observations I had made to myself thereupon. He seemed to understand as little of them as I had done before, and civilly abstained from casting any unhandsome reflections on them. I had a desire to go to another meeting of the Quakers, and bade my father’s man inquire if there was any in the country thereabouts. He thereupon told me he had heard at Isaac Penington’s that there was to be a meeting at High Wycombe on Thursday next. Thither therefore I went, though it was seven miles from me; and that I might be rather thought to go out a-coursing than to a meeting, I let my greyhound run by my horse’s side. When I came there, and had set up my horse at an inn, I was at a loss how to find the house where the meeting was to be. I knew it not, and was ashamed to ask after it; wherefore, having ordered the ostler to take care of my dog, I went into the street and stood at the inn gate, musing with myself what course to take. But I had not stood long ere I saw a horseman riding along the street, whom I remembered I had seen before at Isaac Penington’s, and he put up his horse at the same inn. Him therefore I resolved to follow, supposing he was going to the meeting, as indeed he was.