“He had been sick with dysentery, and was so low that his death was momentarily expected; his wife had even taken out the clothes she wished placed upon him after death. While he lay in this seemingly last stage of the disease, he suddenly became able to speak, and said, in a natural tone, to his wife: ‘Bring me my clothes.’ She told him he was very ill and must not try to exert himself; but he continued so urgent that, to pacify him, she brought the clothes he usually wore. He at once arose, dressed himself and was apparently well, and so continued. He said that, while he lay there in that weak condition, he suddenly felt an invisible hand placed upon his head and heard a voice saying: ‘Arise, my son, you are healed,’ upon which he immediately felt a complete change, from extreme illness and weakness to health and strength; hence his request to his wife.” There are numerous traditions regarding the offering of prayers for recovery by the bedsides of the sick, on the part of the early elders of this community, who were sometimes desired to render this service outside of their own Society, and readily complied. That the founders of this community, both men and women, were persons of no ordinary mental and physical vigor, is attested by the excellent mental and physical condition of their descendants, after generations of intermarriage within their own borders. At the present day, it would puzzle an expert to calculate their complicated relationships. In a visit to this locality, some years since, we met two of the handsomest, brightest and sweetest old ladies we ever beheld, each of whom had passed her eightieth year, and each of whom bore the name of Esther (as did the wife of John Waterhouse). Both were descendants of John Rogers, and of the first settlers of Quakertown, several times over.[182] One of them told us that her grandmother took a cap-border to meeting to hem in the time of the great countermove, at which time and for which cause she was whipped at the New London whipping-post; also that for chopping a few sticks of wood in his back yard, on Sunday, a Quakertown man was “dragged to New London prison.” This is but a hint of the traditions that linger in this community regarding the days of persecution. The other lady, a daughter of Elder Zephania Watrous, lived in the old meeting-house, where she was born. In the room with this gentle and comely old lady were five generations of the Watrous family, herself the eldest, and a child of four or five years the youngest, all fair representatives of Quakertown people; healthy, intelligent and good-looking. Footnote 182: It is not to be inferred that no new families have come into Quakertown, or that none of the people have married outside. Accessions to this community have been not infrequent, both by marriage and otherwise.