insignificance,
acknowledge with awe and admiration the protecting power of which we
are so unworthy.

Of the special interference we have just noticed the following
narrative, true as to the more important particulars, is a striking
instance; events, apparently happening out of the ordinary way, seem
brought about by this direct interposition at a period when the most
eminent display of human foresight and sagacity would have been
unavailing.

One chill and misty evening in the year 1652, being the early part of
a wet and, as it proved, a tardy spring, two strangers were benighted
in attempting to cross the wild mountain ridge called Cartmel Fell.
They had proposed taking the most direct route from Kendal to
Cartmel; having, however, missed the few points which indicated their
track, they had for several hours been beating about in the
expectation of finding some clue to extricate themselves, but every
attempt seemed only to fix them more inextricably in a state of doubt
and bewilderment. A dense fog had been rapidly accumulating, and they
began to feel something startled with a vague apprehension of a
night-watch amongst the hills, unprovided as they were with the
requisite essentials for either food or lodging.

The elder of the two, though not more than midway between thirty and
forty years old, was clad in a strange uncouth garb of the coarsest
materials, and his lank long hair hung matted and uncombed upon his
shoulders from a "brim" of extravagant dimensions. This style of dress
was not then recognised as the distinctive badge of a religious sect,
as it is now of the people called "Quakers," or, as they are more
favourably designated, "Friends." The person of whom we speak was the
founder of this society, George Fox, who, only about five years
previous to the date of our story, after much contemplation on
religious subjects, took upon himself the public ministry. In the year
1650 he was imprisoned at Derby for speaking publicly in the church
after divine service; on being brought before a magistrate, he bade
the company "_tremble at the word of the Lord_;" the expression was
turned into ridicule, and he and his friends received the appellation
of "_Quakers_."

His appearance was stout and muscular; and his general demeanour of
that still, undisturbed aspect which, if not one of the essentials of
his own religion, is at least looked upon as its greatest ornament,
betokening the inward grace of a meek and qu