“MY DEAR FRIEND,――You see by this where I am. Doubtless, you will wonder at the quick transition from Portsmouth to Plymouth. When I wrote last, I intended going to the former; but, just before I took leave of the dear Tabernacle people, a message was sent to me, that the captain, in whose ship I was to sail from thence, would not take me, for fear of my spoiling his sailors. Upon this, hearing of a ship that was going under convoy from Plymouth, I hastened hither, and have taken a passage in the _Wilmington_, Captain Dalby, bound to Piscataway, in New England. “My first reception here was a little unpromising. A report being spread that I was come, a great number of people assembled upon the _Hoe_ (a large green for walks and diversions), and somebody brought out a bear and a drum; but I did not come till the following evening, when, under pretence of a hue-and-cry, several broke into the room where I lodged at the inn, and disturbed me very much. “I then betook myself to private lodgings, and being gone to rest, after preaching to a large congregation, and visiting the French prisoners, the good woman of the house came and told me, that a well-dressed gentleman desired to speak with me. Imagining that he was some Nicodemite, I desired he might be brought up. He came and sat down by my bedside, told me he was a lieutenant of a man of war, congratulated me on the success of my ministry, and expressed himself much concerned for being detained from hearing me. He then asked me if I knew him? I answered, No. He replied, his name was Cadogan. I rejoined, that I had seen one Mr. Cadogan, who was formerly an officer in Georgia, about a fortnight ago, at Bristol. Upon this, he immediately rose up, uttering the most abusive language, calling me _dog_, _rogue_, _villain_, etc., and beat me most unmercifully with his gold-headed cane. As you know, I have not much natural courage; and, being apprehensive that he intended to shoot or stab me, I underwent all the fears of a sudden violent death. My hostess and her daughter, hearing me cry ‘Murder,’ rushed into the room, and seized him by the collar; but he immediately disengaged himself from them, and repeated his blows upon me. The cry of murder was repeated, and he made towards the chamber door, from whence the good woman pushed him downstairs. A second man now cried out, ‘Take courage, I am ready to help you;’ and, accordingly, whilst the other was escaping, he rushed upstairs, and finding one of the women coming down, took her by the heels, and threw her upon the floor, by which her back was almost broken. By this time the neighbourhood was alarmed; but, being unwilling to add to the commotion, I desired the doors might be shut, and so betook myself to rest.” This strange adventure is explained in another letter, written to the same friend, a few days afterwards.