We, the undersigned members of the Society of Friends, beg leave to represent to thee, that we were lately drafted in the 3d Dist. of Vermont, have been forced into the army and reached the camp near this town yesterday.

That in the language of the elders of our New York Yearly Meeting, “We love our country and acknowledge with gratitude to our Heavenly Father the many blessings we have been favoured with under the government; and can feel no sympathy with any who seek its overthrow.”

But that, true to well-known principles of our Society, we cannot violate our religious convictions either by complying with military requisitions or by the equivalents of this compliance,—­the furnishing of a substitute or payment of commutation money.  That, therefore, we are brought into suffering and exposed to insult and contempt from those who have us in charge, as well as to the penalties of insubordination, though liberty of conscience is granted us by the Constitution of Vermont as well as that of the United States.

Therefore, we beg of thee as Governor of our State any assistance thou may be able to render, should it be no more than the influence of thy position interceding in our behalf.

Truly Thy Friend,
CYRUS G. PRINGLE.

P.S.—­We are informed we are to be sent to the vicinity of Boston tomorrow.

27th.—­On board train to Boston.  The long afternoon of yesterday passed slowly away.  This morning passed by,—­the time of our stay in Brattleboro, and we neither saw nor heard anything of our Governor.  We suppose he could not or would not help us.  So as we go down to our trial we have no arm to lean upon among all men; but why dost thou complain, oh, my Soul?  Seek thou that faith that will prove a buckler to thy breast, and gain for thee the protection of an arm mightier than the arms of all men.

28th. CAMP VERMONT:  LONG ISLAND, BOSTON HARBOUR.—­In the early morning damp and cool we marched down off the heights of Brattleboro to take train for this place.  Once in the car the dashing young cavalry officer, who had us in charge, gave notice he had placed men through the cars, with loaded revolvers, who had orders to shoot any person attempting to escape, or jump from the window, and that any one would be shot if he even put his head out of the window.  Down the beautiful valley of the Connecticut, all through its broad intervales, heavy with its crops of corn or tobacco, or shaven smooth by the summer harvest; over the hard and stony counties of northern Massachusetts, through its suburbs and under the shadow of Bunker Hill Monument we came into the City of Boston, “the Hub of the Universe.”  Out through street after street we were marched double guarded to the wharves, where we took a small steamer for the island some six miles out in the harbour.  A circumstance connected with this march is worth mentioning for its singularity:  at the head of this company, like convicts (and feeling very much like such), through the City of Boston walked, with heavy hearts and down-cast eyes, two Quakers.