From Mansfield in Nottingham-shire, March 17.
When I consider our mercies and deliverances, I find them
to be more then I can number, and which is a mercy superadded
to all the rest, God is still increasing their number; and
as if he were broaching his best Wines at last, he makes every
mercy look more sweetly, more smilingly than other: so that I
am ready to conclude, that although we have spilt much precious
liquor, and mishusbanded many a choice deliverance, yet
God will not give us up, he cannot find in his heart yet to
part with a poor praying handfull, but will try us this year
also, yea wil trust us with yet more deliverances; yea, that God
will still say of his cause and people, Destroy it not, for a blessing
is in it. He has seemed to speak in this Dialect this week
in this County, in the discovery of that bloody plot, which
like poison had struck through the heart and bowels of the
Nation, tho the Tokens appeared more black and bloody in
this County, then in some others; for, so it Was, that on the 8
of this month at night there met about 500 horsmen at Rufford-Abbey,
to whom was brought a Cart-load of Armes,
Pistols, Saddles, Bridles, som Buffcoats, Back & brest pieces, &c.
where after they had drawn up themselvs in two or 3 bodies,
they begun to swear their old hell-hatched oath (God damn
them) they were all betrayed and undone, and bad every man
shift for himself, but knew not what to do with those Armes
aforesaid, wherupon som said cast them into the water, others
contradicted that, and prevailed to carry them to a Village
cald Farnesfield, not far distant from Rufford, where they
lodgd the Arms in a Farmers barn, covering them with straw;
yet by the diligence industry and prudence of Col: Berry, the
Carter was made to confess where he had laid the Arms; so
the Col. seised the Arms, and brought them hither to Mansfield,
apprehended many Gentlemen whom he suspected, som
of them confess they were at the night meeting, some deny it,
he is daily fetching in more Countreymen. The Armes were
brought from one Coopers hous, son to Sir Roger Cooper, who
as I hear is fled; his brother is taken at Leicester, Major Scot
is taken at Doncaster, We hope now the snare is broken, and