The blessed instrument of, and in this day of God, and of whom I am now
about to write, was George Fox, distinguished from another of that name,
by that other's addition of younger to his name, in all his writings; not
that he was so in years, but that he was so in the truth: but he was also
a worthy man, witness, and servant of God in his time.
But this George Fox was born in Leicestershire, about the year 1624. He
descended of honest and sufficient parents, who endeavoured to bring him
up, as they did the rest of their children, in the way and worship of the
nation: especially his mother, who was a woman accomplished above most of
her degree in the place where she lived. But from a child he appeared of
another frame of mind than the rest of his brethren; being more
religious, inward, still, solid, and observing beyond his years, as the
answers he would give, and the questions he would put, upon occasion,
manifested, to the astonishment of those that heard him, especially in
divine things.
His mother, taking notice of his singular temper, and the gravity,
wisdom, and piety, that very early shined through him, refusing childish
and vain sports, and company, when very young, was tender and indulgent
over him, so that from her he met with little difficulty.
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