having robb d me of my bull and cow, to steal my horse!—why—why fellow don't you think to be hang'd?'—'I hope not,' replies Roger, but however the may be pray friend let me ask the one question, What might you be doing when I took the horse?'—"Hushǃ Hush? cries the quaker in a terrible fright, "never mention what thou hast seen, and I'll forgive thee all. Go thy ways, and hark thee, take grace with thee"
Roger bowed, and proceeded homeward; but as the quaker moved slowly, determined to call at his house. When he arrived the maid accosted him with, 'Well Roger, how hast thou and my master rode it out? Oh! very well, replies Roger, "we're as good friends as ever, He bid me go and take grace with me. "Grace" cries the maid; "what, and all her pigs!'
Now reader you must know grace was a favourite sow of the quaker's who had lately littered a fine parcel of pigs. The maid thinking it her master's intention turned the sow and her litter out of the sty, and Roger drove them home before him.
The quaker's wife being made acquainted with the affair; the reception Aminadab met with from her when she saw him come home without his horse is better imagined than expressed—But I am credibly informed that his harangues in the meeting were for some time after very much larden with invectives against rage—hard words—and an immoderate indulgence of the passions.
