were fresh upon her, yet they made no impression upon me, faith
keeping out fear.

We spent much of the evening in retiredness of mind, our spirits
being weightily gathered inward, so that not much discourse passed
among us; neither they to me, nor I to them offered any occasion.
Yet I had good satisfaction in that stillness, feeling my spirit
drawn near to the Lord, and to them therein.

Before I went to bed they let me know that there was to be a meeting
at Wycombe next day, and that some of the family would go to it. I
was very glad of it, for I greatly desired to go to meetings, and
this fell very aptly, it being in my way home. Next morning Isaac
Penington himself went, having Anne Curtis with him, and I
accompanied them.

At Wycombe we met with Edward Burrough, who came from Oxford thither
that day that I, going thither, met him on the way; and having both
our monter-caps on, we recollected that we had met, and passed by
each other on the road unknown.

This was a monthly meeting, consisting of friends chiefly, who
gathered to it from several parts of the country thereabouts, so
that it was pretty large, and was held in a fair room in Jeremiah
Stevens' house; the room where I had been at a meeting before, in
John Raunce's house, being too little to receive us.

A very good meeting was this in itself and to me. Edward Burrough's
ministry came forth among us in life and power, and the assembly was
covered therewith. I also, according to my small capacity, had a