I joined them, and thereby was led into the great meeting-house of
the Quakers near the market. I sat down among them, and, after looking
round awhile and hearing nothing said, being very drowsy thro'
labor and want of rest the preceding night, I fell fast asleep,
and continued so till the meeting broke up, when one was kind
enough to rouse me. This was, therefore, the first house I was in,
or slept in, in Philadelphia.

Walking down again toward the river, and, looking in the faces
of people, I met a young Quaker man, whose countenance I lik'd, and,
accosting him, requested he would tell me where a stranger could
get lodging. We were then near the sign of the Three Mariners.
"Here," says he, "is one place that entertains strangers, but it
is not a reputable house; if thee wilt walk with me, I'll show thee
a better." He brought me to the Crooked Billet in Water-street. Here
I got a dinner; and, while I was eating it, several sly questions were
asked me, as it seemed to be suspected from my youth and appearance,
that I might be some runaway.

After dinner, my sleepiness return'd, and being shown to a bed,
I lay down without undressing, and slept till six in the evening,
was call'd to supper, went to bed again very early, and slept
soundly till next morning. Then I made myself as tidy as I could,
and went to Andrew Bradford the printer's. I found in the shop
the old man his father, whom I had seen at New York, and who,
travelling on horseback, had got to Philadelphia before me.
He introduc'd me to his son, who receiv'd me civilly, gave me
a breakfast, but told me he did not at present want a hand,
being lately suppli'd with one; but there was another printer
in town, lately set up, one Keimer, who, perhaps, might employ me;