"And verily," thought he, "I deem it a chief condition of Heaven's mercy
to myself, that I hold no communion with those abominable myriads which
it hath cast off to perish. Peradventure, were I to tarry longer in the
tents of Kedar, the gracious boon would be revoked, and I also be
swallowed up in the deluge of wrath, or consumed in the storm of fire and
brimstone, or involved in whatever new kind of ruin is ordained for the
horrible perversity of this generation."

So Richard Digby took an axe, to hew space enough for a tabernacle in the
wilderness, and some few other necessaries, especially a sword and gun,
to smite and slay any intruder upon his hallowed seclusion; and plunged
into the dreariest depths of the forest. On its verge, however, he
paused a moment, to shake off the dust of his feet against the village
where he had dwelt, and to invoke a curse on the meeting-house, which he
regarded as a temple of heathen idolatry. He felt a curiosity, also, to
see whether the fire and brimstone would not rush down from Heaven at
once, now that the one righteous man had provided for his own safety.
But, as the sunshine continued to fall peacefully on the cottages and
fields, and the husbandmen labored and children played, and as there were
many tokens of present happiness, and nothing ominous of a speedy
judgment, he turned away, somewhat disappointed. The farther he went,
however, and the lonelier he felt himself, and the thicker the trees
stood along his path, and the darker the shadow overhead, so much the
more did Richard Digby exult. He talked to himself, as he strode onward;
he read his Bible to himself, as he sat beneath the trees; and, as the
gloom of the forest hid the blessed sky, I had almost added, that, at
morning, noon, and eventide, he prayed to himself. So congenial was this
mode of life to his disposition, that he often laughed to himself, but
was displeased when an echo tossed him back the long loud roar.