We came pretty late into Oxford on the seventh day of the week, which was the market day; and, contrary to my expectation (which was to have been carried to the castle), my trooper stopped in the High Street, and calling at a shop asked for the master of the house, who coming to the door, he delivered to him the mittimus, and with it a letter from the deputy-lieutenants (or one of them), which when he had read he asked where the prisoner was. Whereupon the soldier pointing to me, he desired me to alight and come in, which when I did he received me civilly. The trooper, being discharged of his prisoner, marched back, and my father’s man, seeing me settled in better quarters than he expected, mounted my horse and went off with him. I did not presently understand the quality of my keeper, but I found him a genteel courteous man, by trade a linen-draper; and, as I afterwards understood, he was City Marshal, had a command in the county troop, and was a person of good repute in the place; his name was—Galloway. Whether I was committed to him out of regard to my father, that I might not be thrust into a common gaol, or out of a politic design to keep me from the conversation of my friends, in hopes that I might be drawn to abandon this profession, which I had but lately taken up, I do not know. But this I know, that though I wanted no civil treatment nor kind accommodations where I was, yet after once I understood that many Friends were prisoners in the castle, and amongst the rest Thomas Loe, I had much rather have been among them there, with all the inconveniences they underwent, than where I was with the best entertainment. But this was my present lot, and therefore with this I endeavoured to be content. It was quickly known in the city that a Quaker was brought in prisoner, and committed to the Marshal. Whereupon (the men Friends being generally prisoners already in the castle) some of the women Friends came to me to inquire after me, and to visit me; as Silas Norton’s wife, and Thomas Loe’s wife, who were sisters, and another woman Friend, who lived in the same street where I was, whose husband was not a Quaker, but kindly affected towards them, a baker by trade, and his name, as I remember, — Ryland. By some of these an account was soon given to the Friends who were prisoners in the castle of my being taken up and brought prisoner to the Marshal’s; whereupon it pleased the Lord to move on the heart of my dear friend Thomas Loe to salute me with a tender and affectionate letter in the following terms: “MY BELOVED FRIEND,