Overjoyed at finding such an asylum, I
remained in the humble cot. This is the third day I have lived
under the roof, freed of my hellish assailants, spending my time
in prayer, and writing out this my journal, which I have fashioned
to stick in with my printed work, and to which I intend to add
portions while I remain in this pilgrimage state, which, I find too
well, cannot be long.
August 3, 1712.--This morning the hind has brought me word
from Redesdale, whither he had been for coals, that a stranger
gentleman had been traversing that country, making the most
earnest inquiries after me, or one of the same appearance; and,
from the description that he brought of this stranger, I could
easily perceive who it was. Rejoicing that my tormentor has lost
traces of me for once, I am making haste to leave my asylum, on
pretence of following this stranger, but in reality to conceal
myself still more completely from his search. Perhaps this may be
the last sentence ever I am destined to write. If so, farewell,
Christian reader! May God grant to thee a happier destiny than
has been allotted to me here on earth, and the same assurance of
acceptance above! Amen.
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