governs the human vessel; and this nothing can do but an inward principle, the light and grace that came by Christ, which, the Scriptures tell us, enlightens every one, and hath appeared to all men. He that gave us an outward luminary for our bodies, hath given us an inward one for our minds to act by. We have it, and it is our condemnation that we do not love it, and bring our deeds to it. 'Tis by this we see our sins, are made sensible of them, sorry for them, and finally forsake them. And he that thinks to go to heaven a nearer way, will, I fear, belate his soul, and be irrevocably mistaken. There are but goats and sheep at last, whatever shapes we wear here. Let us not therefore, dear friend, deceive ourselves. Our souls are at stake; God will not be mocked; what we sow we must expect to reap. To sum up this divinity of mine, it is the light of Jesus in our souls that gives us a true sight of ourselves, and that sight that leads us to repentance; which repentance begets humility, and humility that true charity that covers a multitude of faults, which I call God's expedient against man's infirmity.

"The second remedy to our present distemper is this: Since all of all parties profess to believe in God, Christ, the Spirit, and Scripture; that the soul is immortal; that there are eternal rewards and punishments; and that the virtuous shall receive the one, and the wicked suffer the other; I say, since this is the common faith of Christendom, let us all resolve in the strength of God to live up to what we agree in, before we fall out so miserably about the rest in which we differ. I am persuaded the change and comfort which that pious course would bring us to, would go very far to dispose our natures to compound easily for

all the rest, and we might hope yet to see happy days in poor England, for there I would have so good a work be gun. And how it is possible for the eminent men of every religious persuasion (especially the present ministers of the parishes of England) to think of giving an account to God at the last day, without using the utmost of their endeavors to moderate the members of their respective communions towards those that differ from them, is a mystery to me. But this I know, and must lay it at their doors; I charge also my own soul with it; God requires moderation and humility from us; for He is at hand who will not spare to judge our impatience, if we have no patience for one another. The eternal God rebuke (I beseech Him) the wrath of man, and humble all under the sense of the evil of this day; and yet (unworthy as we are) give us peace for his holy name's sake.

"It is now time to end this letter, and I will now do it without saying any more than this: Thou seest my defence against popular calumny; thou seest what my thoughts are of our condition, and the way to better it; and thou seest my hearty and humble prayer to Almighty God to incline us to be wise, if it were but for our own sakes. I shall only add that I am extremely sensible of the kindness and justice intended me by my friends on this occasion, and that I am for that and many more reasons, "Thy obliged and affectionate Friend,

WILLIAM PENN."

In about a fortnight after the writing of this letter, the nation being in a ferment on account of the arbitrary proceedings of James II., William Prince of Orange landed

at Torbay. He was received there with open arms as well as afterwards by the country at large. Officers and men, abandoning their former banners, deserted to serve under him. The national discontent indeed was such that James found it necessary to leave the kingdom and to retire to France. In process of time, as is well known, the Prince of Orange and his consort were advanced to the sovereignty of the realm.

William Penn lost, by the flight of the king, one who, with all his political failings, had been his firm friend. He was left exposed to the popular indignation as a Papist and Jesuit, and as one who had aimed to establish popery and arbitrary power in the kingdom. To return. to America, though she presented to him a peaceful asylum, would have led persons to conclude that he had been guilty of what had been laid to his charge. Conscious of his own innocence, he resolved to remain where he was, following those occupations by which he thought he could best promote the good of his fellow-creatures.

But it was not long after this determination before he felt the effect of the political change which had taken place; for on the 10th of Twelfth month, walking in Whitehall, he was sent for by the Lords of the Council, who were then sitting. Here he underwent an examination. In reply to some questions which were put to him, he protested that "he had done nothing but what he could answer before God and all the princes in the world; that he loved his country and the Protestant religion above his life, and had never acted against either; that all he had ever aimed at in his public endeavors was no other than what the prince himself had declared for; that King

James had always been his friend and his father's friend; and that in gratitude he himself was the king's, and did ever, as much as in him lay, influence him to his true interest." Notwithstanding this manly and open declaraion, and that nothing appeared against him, the council obliged him to give security for his appearance the first day of the next term.

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XVIII.

WHILE William Penn was in England, the want

of his presence in Pennsylvania was felt and lamented by the inhabitants there. The burden of government had rested principally upon Thomas Lloyd, a valuable member and minister of the Society of Friends; but as he was desirous of being released from the care and responsibility of his public station, William Penn reluctantly granted his request, and nominated Captain John Blackwell as his deputy. In his letter to his friends in Pennsylvania, he says: "For your ease, I have appointed one that is not a Friend, but a grave, sober, wise man, to be Governor in my absence. He married old General Lambert's daughter, was treasurer to the Commonwealth's army in England, Scotland, and Ireland: I suppose independent in judgment. Let him see what he can do awhile. I have ordered him to confer in private with you, and square himself by your advice. If he do not please you, he shall be laid aside. I desire you to receive him with kindness, and let him see it, and use his not being a Friend to Friends' advantage. He has a mighty repute of all sorts of honest people where he has inhabited, which, with my knowledge, has made me venture upon him. have rough people to deal with about my quit-rents, that yet cannot pay a ten-pound bill, but draw, draw, draw, still upon me. And it being his talent (Blackwell's) to

I