BX 7795 .P4 D68 
 
 Draper, B. H. 
 
 The life of William Penn 
 
1 
 
W I L L I A M^fi J* 
 
 TO WHICH IS ADDED HIS 
 
 RELATING TO THE 
 
 CONDUCT OF HUMAN LIFE. 
 
 BOURNE HALL DRAPER. 
 
 " Good Men are all of a oburch, and eretj 
 " one knows wbo must be at the bead of it." 
 
 Maxims, 
 
 LONDON: 
 WILLIAM DARTON AND SON 
 
 HOLBORN HILL. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Page. 
 
 A7nbition ^ 
 
 Apparel • • • 
 
 Art and Project 
 
 Avarice 
 
 Balance 
 
 Bearing 
 
 Capacity 
 
 Caution 167.190 
 
 Censoriousness 
 
 Charity 154,267 
 
 Clean Hands '-^"l 
 
 Conversation 1^8 
 
II 
 
 CompUicency 172 
 
 Country Life 181 
 
 Conformist 261 
 
 Detraction . 187 
 
 Dispatch 201 
 
 Disappointment 151 
 
 Discipline 155 
 
 EdMcation 144 
 
 Eloquence 170 
 
 Envy 238 
 
 Fidelity 177 
 
 Food 245 
 
 Formality »49 
 
 Friendship 165—6, 244 
 
 Frugality 155 
 
 God 250 
 
 Government 194 
 
 Happiness 183 
 
iii 
 
 Hazard 186 
 
 Ignorance 143 
 
 Indifference 206 
 
 Indmtry 156, 183 
 
 Inconaideration 151 
 
 Impartiality 2M 
 
 Interest 172 
 
 Inquiry 1T3 
 
 Juttice 171, 251 
 
 Jealouty ....... ISO, 252 
 
 Knowledge 174 
 
 Luxury 150 
 
 Life 230 
 
 Marriage 159, 162 
 
 Master 178 
 
 Moderation 187 
 
 Moralist, the 225 
 
 Murmuring 152 
 
IV 
 
 PaS«. 
 
 Neutrality 206 
 
 Obedience to Parents 175 
 
 Obligation 2<52 
 
 Ostentation 208 
 
 Partiality 246 
 
 Party 207 
 
 Passim 188 
 
 Patience 203 
 
 Posterity 180 
 
 Popularity 193 
 
 Pride 147 
 
 Privacy 193, 200 
 
 Praise 241 
 
 Promising 177 
 
 Property 257 
 
 Private Life 200 
 
 Public Life 200 
 
 Qualifications 201 
 
P.St. 
 
 Refining on others* Interests .... 266 
 
 Religion 210 
 
 Reparation 167 
 
 Respect 185 
 
 Right Timing 173 
 
 Rule of Judging 247 
 
 Secrecy 171 
 
 Servants 179, 254 
 
 'Shifts 172 
 
 Speech 243 
 
 State 254 
 
 Temper 170 
 
 Temperance 1 56 
 
 Thought 235 
 
 Trick 188 
 
 Truth 171 
 
 Vain Man 259 
 
 Virtue 208 
 
vi 
 
 mse Man 
 
 Wit 
 
 World's Man 
 
 World, pursuit of the 255 
 
THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 WILLIAM PENN. 
 
 oi^o 
 
 William Penn was .descended from an ancient 
 family, which, for several centuries, had resided 
 at the village of Penn in Buckinghamshire. His 
 father was Admiral Sir William Penn ; he married 
 Margaret, the daughter of John Jasper, a merchant 
 of Rotterdam. Their son, William, was born in 
 London, in the parish of St. Catlierinc, October 
 14th, Km. 
 
 He received the first rudiments of his education 
 at Chigwell in Essex. Here, according to his own 
 account, while alone in his chamber, being only 
 eleven years of age, he was suddenly surprised 
 with such a sense of the divine glory, that he had 
 the strongest conviction of the being of a God, 
 B 
 
2 
 
 and that the soul of man was capable of enjoying 
 communion with him. 
 
 When twelve years of age, his fatiier kept a 
 private tutor for him in his own house ; and at 
 fifteen he was entered a gentleman commoner at 
 Christ Church, Oxford. Here he became ac- 
 quainted with the admirable John Locke. ' 
 
 The religious impressions which he had received 
 in so extraordinary a manner at Chigweil, were 
 never erased from his memory, or heart. Whilst 
 a student at Oxford, they were considerably 
 strengthened by the preaching of Thomas Loe, a 
 leading adherent of the Society of Friends. With 
 some other young men, who had imbibed the 
 same religious sentiments, he was accustomed to 
 meet for divine worship ; which gave great offence 
 to the dean of the college ; and they were all fined 
 for their non-conformity to the established church. 
 
 His father was much displeased with him on 
 account of the peculiar views of divine truth which 
 he had embraced ; for he had begun to change 
 his habits, and to withdraw from the fashionable 
 world, in which he had moved. The Admiral 
 thonght his son's prospects in life were utterly 
 ruined ; and as he could not prevail on him to 
 
3 
 
 alter his course, he absolutely turned him out of 
 doors. 
 
 His mother, however, a most amiable woman, 
 interceded for him, and he was forgiven. But his 
 father,' wishing to correct his too great plainness 
 of manners, determined to send him to the con- 
 tinent for a season. He hoped that the gaiety 
 of life, so universal in France, might alter the 
 increasing gravity of his mind ; he accordingly 
 went to Paris. An anecdote is recorded of him 
 whilst here, which is very honourable to his prin- 
 ciples and feelings. Being attacked one evening 
 in the street, by a person who drew his sword on 
 him, he wrenched the weapon out of his hand, 
 but spared the life of his antagonist, when he was 
 evidently left dependent on his mercy. 
 
 At Saumur he pursued his studies under Amy- 
 rault, a celebrated Protestant divine. Whilst at 
 Turin, on his way to Italy, a letter reached him 
 from his father, intreating him to come home, and 
 take charge of the family, as he was about to com- 
 mand the fleet against Holland. And on the return 
 of William to England in 1664, that he might gain 
 an acquaintance with the laws of his own country, 
 he became a student at Lincoln's Inn ; which 
 B 2 
 
4 
 
 he quitted, when the plague raged in London, 
 in 1665. 
 
 The Admiral was pleased that his son, as he 
 hoped would be the case, brought with him from 
 the continent, manners less serious than those 
 which he had taken with him from home. Still 
 he was far too grave to give him anmingled plea- 
 sure. He, accordingly, sent him to visit the court 
 of the Duke of Ormond, who was one of his 
 friends, and Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. Every 
 thing which he saw there confirmed him in the 
 truth of his religious sentiments, and in his deter- 
 mination to lead a serious life. " He considered 
 the court," says Clark son, " with its pomp and 
 vanity, its parade and ceremonies, as a direct 
 nursery for vice ; and as to its rontine of pleasures, 
 it became to him only a routine of disgust." 
 
 His father now determined to give him the 
 management of his estates in Ireland, thinking 
 that as he would be far from his English con- 
 nexions, and have much business on his hands, 
 that he would grow more indifferent to his religi- 
 ous views. Here he managed tilings most entirely 
 to the satisfaction of his kind father. Whilst, 
 hDwever, on a vi--it at Cork, he again heard 
 
5 
 
 Thomas Loe, on the faith which overcomes the 
 world, and on the faith which the world over- 
 comes; the discourse was exceedingly suitable to 
 his ciKumstances, and he determined from that 
 hour to unite himself to the Society of Friends. 
 He soon found that the path he had chosen was 
 one of self-denial and loss; for in 1667, he was 
 arrested with many others, for being at public 
 worship, and committed to prison : but was soon 
 released by an order from the Duke of Ormond. 
 
 As he had now decidedly chosen the people with 
 whom he intended to act, his father was greatly 
 alarmed and offended. He sent for him to return 
 immediately from Ireland. "And here," says his 
 first biographer, " my pen is diffident of its ability 
 to describe the most pathetic and moving contest 
 which took place between his father and him ; his 
 father actuated by natural love, principally aiming 
 at his son's temporal honour ; he, guided by a 
 divine impulse, having ciiiefly in view his own 
 eternal welfare; his father, grieved to see the 
 well-accomplished son of his hopes, now ripe for 
 worldly promotion, voluntarily turning his back 
 upon it ; he, no less afflicted to think a compliance 
 with his earthly father's pleasure was inconsistent 
 
6 
 
 with his obedience to his heavenly one ; hi» 
 father pressing his conformity to the customs anti 
 fashions of the times; he, modestly craving leave 
 to refrain from what would hurt his conscience ; 
 his father, earnestly entreating him, and almost 
 on his knees beseeching him to yield to his desire ; 
 he, of a loving and tender disposition, in an 
 extreme agony of spirit, to behold his father'^ 
 concern and trouble; bis father threatening to 
 disinherit him; he, humbly submitting to his 
 father's will therein ; his father turning his back 
 on him in anger ; he, lifting up his heart to God, 
 for strength to support him in that time of trial." 
 
 The Admiral now despaired, as he well might, of 
 altering the opinions of his son. He made him 
 acquainted with this circumstance ; and told him 
 that he would be satisfied, if he would only consent 
 to sit with his hat off in his presence, and when 
 in company with the King, and the Duke of York. 
 He found himself compelled by his principfes to 
 inform his father, that he could not accede to his. 
 wishes. This he did with much affection and 
 respect ; yet his father was exceedingly displeased, 
 and once more shut him out of the pateraai 
 habitation. 
 
7 
 
 That he had so greatly pained his father, how- 
 ever innocently, was a subject of much grief to 
 him. His mind was supported on this trying 
 occasion, by the belief, that they who left homes 
 and parents for the sake of the kingdom of God, 
 should by no means lose tlieir reward. His mother 
 kept up a private communication with him, and 
 did much to supply his wants out of her own purse. 
 
 In 1668, being then twenty-four years of age, he 
 became a preacher among the Friends ; at this 
 same period, he published his " Truth Exalted ;" 
 and shortly afterwards, "The Sandy Foundation 
 shaken." This last volume greatly displeased the 
 Bishop of London, and its author was sent to the 
 Tower. Here he was treated with great severity, 
 and was so closely confined, that no one of his 
 friends was allowed to have access to him. It was 
 told him, that the Bishop had resolved, that he 
 should either recant or die in prison. In his reply 
 to tills prelate he nobly said, " that he would 
 weary out the malice of his enemies by his 
 patience ; that great and good things were seldom 
 obtained w ithout loss and hardships ; that the man 
 who woi'ld reap and not labour, must faint with 
 the wind, and perish in disappointments; and 
 
8 
 
 that his prison should be his grave, before he 
 would renounce his just opinions; for that he 
 owed his conscience to no man." 
 
 Whilst he was in this confinement he produced 
 his admirable work, entitled, ** No Cross, no 
 Crown," which in his life passed through several 
 editions, and through many since. " The great 
 work and business of the cross," says he, in this 
 treatise, " is self-denial ; of this Christ was the 
 great example. True worship is only from a heart 
 prepared by God's holy Spirit, without which the 
 soul of man is dead, and incapable of glorifying 
 him. — Pride leads people to an excessive value of 
 their persons ; it seeks distinction by decorations, 
 the very cost of which would feed the poor; but it 
 becomes the beautiful to endeavonr to make their 
 ?un]s like their bodies; it makes distinction by 
 blood and family; but God made all out of one 
 blood, and one family ; there is no true nobility 
 but in virtue.— Avarice is a capital lust. It has 
 a desire of unlawful things. It has an unlawful 
 desire of lawful things. It is treacherous and 
 oppressive. It marked the false prophet, and is a 
 reproach to religion. Luxury is another capital 
 Inst. This is a great enemy to the cross of Christ. 
 
9 
 
 It consists jn voluptuous or excessive diet, which 
 injures both mind and body; in gorgeous and 
 excessive apparel, to the loss of innocence ; and in 
 excess of recreations, contrary to the practice of 
 good men of old, whose chief recreation was to 
 serve God, to do good to mankind, and to follow 
 honest vocations. Sumptuous apparel, rich un- 
 guents, stately furniture, costly cookery, balls, 
 masks, music-meetings, plays, and romances, were 
 not the ' many tribulations ' through which men 
 were to enter into the kingdom of God." These, 
 with many other sentiments, he illustrates at large 
 in this work. 
 
 He wrote an excellent letter to Lord Arlington, 
 the Secretary of State, by whose warrant he had 
 been committed to the Tower; the following is a 
 brief extract from this document : " I am at a loss 
 to imagine, how a diversity of religious opinions 
 can affect the safety of the state, seeing that 
 kingdoms and commonwealths have lived under 
 the balance of divers parties. I conceive, that 
 they only are unfit for political society, who 
 maintain principles subversive of industry, fidelity, 
 justice, and obedience ; but to say, that men must 
 form their faith of things proper to another world. 
 
10 
 
 according to the prescriptions of otticr mortal men 
 in this; and, if they do not, that they have no 
 right to be at liberty, or to live in this, is both 
 ridiculous and dangerous. The understanding can 
 never be convinced by other arguments than what 
 are suitable to its own nature. Force may make 
 hypocrites, but can make no converts; and if I 
 am at any time convinced, I will pay the honour 
 of it to truth, and not to base and timorous hypo- 
 crisy." 
 
 He then desires, since many of his enemies had 
 retracted their opinions about him; and as his 
 imprisonment was against the privileges of an 
 Englishman, as well as against true Christianity, 
 that he may receive his discharge. He makes, he 
 says, no apology for his letter, which was the 
 usual style of suppliants; because he conceives, 
 that more honour will accrue to Lord Arlington 
 by being just, than advantage to himself as an 
 individual, by becoming personally free. 
 
 As he had been misunderstood on the doctrine 
 of the Persons in the Godhead, as though he in- 
 tended to deny the divinity of Christ, he referred 
 his opponents to passages in his writings, in which 
 in very express terms he acknowledges that im- 
 portant truth. 
 
11 
 
 After being in the Tower for seven mouths, he 
 was all on a sudden liberated by an order of the 
 King, through the intercession of the Duke of 
 York. It has been supposed, that his father applied 
 to the Duke on the occasion. 
 
 Immediately on his liberation from prison, he 
 was called to bid a last farewell to his greatly 
 esteemed friend and teacher, Thomas Loe. That 
 excellent individoal thus addressed him, — " Bear 
 thy cross, and stand faithful to God ; then he will 
 give thee an everlasting crown of glory, that shall 
 not be taken from thee. There is no other way 
 that shall prosper, than that which the holy men 
 of old walked in. God hath brought immortality 
 to light, and life immortal is felt. His love over- 
 comes ray heart. Glory be to his name for ever- 
 more." 
 
 His father now again admitted him to bis house, 
 but did not see him. Through his mother he 
 caused an intimation to be given him, that he 
 wished to employ him on a commission to Ireland ; 
 this gave him great joy, and he accordingly pre- 
 pared without delay for his journey. Whilst he 
 did not neglect his father's business, he found 
 leisure to attend to the concerns of his own reli- 
 
12 
 
 gious society. As occasion offered, he preached at 
 Cork and Dublin ; and attended the national meet- 
 ing at the latter place. He especially visited all 
 his poor brethren whom he found in prison for 
 conscience sake. He administered to them relief 
 and consolation. He addressed the Lord Lieutenant 
 on their behalf ; and, at length, procured an order 
 in council for their liberation. 
 
 On his return to England an entire reconciliation 
 - took place between him and his father, to the great 
 satisfaction of all his friends, — more especially that 
 of his excellent mother: and he again found a 
 residence in his father's house. 
 
 In 1670 was passed the famous, or rather in- 
 famous Conventicle Act, which entirely prohibited 
 men from worshiping God according to the dic- 
 tates of their consciences, under sore penalties. 
 " This act," as one very justly remarked, " brake 
 down, and overran the bounds set for the defence 
 and security of the lives, liberties, and properties 
 of Englishmen; abolishing trial by jury ; instead 
 thereof, directing and authorii^ing justices of the 
 peace, and that too privately, to convict, fine, and 
 by their warrants distrain upon offenders against 
 it, directly contrary to the Great Charter." This 
 
13 
 
 iniquitous act was first suggested by some of the 
 Bishops. 
 
 William Penn was one of its first victims. 
 Going, as usual, with others of his own religious 
 society, to their meeting-house in Gracechurch 
 Street, for divine worship, they found it surrounded 
 by a company of soldiers. As they could not enter 
 it, a large company of people were soon assembled 
 around the door, and William Penn stood up to 
 address them; he, and William Mead, were then 
 seized by warrants from the Lord Mayor, according 
 to a plan previously arranged by the persecutors, 
 and committed to Newgate. They were soon in- 
 dicted for preaching to " an unlawful, seditious, and 
 riotous assembly." When brought into court, they 
 were immediately fined by the Recorder forty 
 marks each, for not uncovering their heads. The 
 behaviour of William Penn on the occasion was 
 above all praise. " We are so far," said he, "from 
 recanting, or declining to vindicate the assembling 
 of ourselves to preach, pray, or worship the eter- 
 nal, holy, just God, that we declare to all the 
 world, that we do believe it to be our indispensable 
 duty to meet incessantly upon so good an account; 
 nor shall all the powers upon earth be able to 
 
14 
 
 divert us from reverencing and adoring our God 
 who made us." 
 
 The following conversation took place in the 
 court on this memorable occasion ; — 
 
 Recorder. " The question is, whether you are 
 guilty of this indictment?" 
 
 W. Penn. " The question is not, whether I am 
 guilty of this indictment, but whether this indict- 
 ment be legal? It is too general and imperfect an 
 answer to say it is the common law, unless we 
 know where and what it is ; for where there is no 
 law there is no transgression ; and that law which 
 is not in being, is so far from being common, that 
 it is no law at all." 
 
 Bee. " You are an impertinent fellow. Will 
 you teach the court what law is ? It is law not 
 written, that which many have studied thirty or 
 forty years to know, and would you have me tell 
 you in a moment?" 
 
 W. Penn. " Certainly, if the common law be 
 so hard to be understood, it is far from being very 
 common ; but if the Lord Coke in his Institutes be 
 of any consideration, he tells us, that common law 
 is common right, and that common right is the 
 Great Charter privileges confirmed." 
 
15 
 
 Rec. " Sir, you are a troublesome fellow, and 
 it is not to the honour of the court to suffer you 
 to go on." 
 
 W. Penn. " I have asked but one question, 
 and you have not answered me, though the rights 
 and privileges of every Englishman are concerned 
 in it." 
 
 Jtec. " If I should suffer you to ask questions 
 till to morrow morning, you would be never the 
 wiser." 
 
 W. Penn. " That would be according as the 
 answers are." 
 
 Rec. " Sir, we must not stand to hear you 
 talk all night." 
 
 fV. Penn. " I design no affront to the court, 
 but to be heard in my just plea; and I must 
 plainly tell you, that if you deny me the oyer of 
 that law, which you say I have broken, you do at 
 once deny me an acknowledged right, and evidence 
 to the whole world your resolution to sacrifice the 
 privileges of Englishmen to your arbitrary de- 
 signs." 
 
 Rec. " Take him away. My lord, if you take 
 not some course with this pestilent fellow to stop 
 his mouth, we shall not be able to do any thing 
 to night," 
 
16 
 
 Mayor. " Take him away ; take him away. 
 Torn him into the bale-dock." 
 
 W. Penn. " These are but so many vain excla- 
 mations. Is this justice or tme jndgment? Mast 
 I therefore be taken away, because I plead for the 
 fundamental laws of England? However, this I 
 leave upon the consciences of you, who are of 
 the jury, and my sole judges, that if these ancient 
 fundamental laws, which relate to liberty and 
 property, and which are not limited to particular 
 persuasions in matters of religion, must not be 
 indispensibly maintained and observed, who can 
 say he hath a right to the coat upon his back ? 
 certainly, our liberties are to be openly invaded ; 
 our wives to be ravished ; onr children enslaved ; 
 oar families ruined ; and oar estates led away in 
 triumph by every sturdy beggar, and malicious 
 informer; as their trophies, but oar forfeits for 
 conscience sake. The Lord of heaven and earth 
 will be judge between ns in this matter." 
 
 Rec. " Be silent there." 
 
 W. Penn. " I am not to be silent in a case in 
 which I am so much concerned ; and not only 
 myself, but ten thousand families besides." 
 
 As they were now hurrying him away, raising 
 
17 
 
 *«>'<;e, he exclaimed aloud, " I appeal to the 
 jury, who are my judges, and this great assembly, 
 whether the proceedings of the court are not most 
 arbitrary, and void of all law, in endeavouring to 
 give the jury their charge in the absence of the 
 prisoners. I say, it is directly opposite to, and 
 destructive of the undoubted right of every English 
 prisoner, as Coke on the chapter of Magna Charta 
 speaks." 
 
 The verdict of the jury was, " Guilty of speaking 
 in Gracechurch Street." As if there were any 
 guilt in this. Tlie jury were brow-beaten, and 
 sent back. When they returned again, they deli- 
 vered a written verdict into court, — signed by all 
 their names ; still it was, " Guilty of speaking in 
 Gracechurch Street \ " 
 
 The magistrates were now more than ever enra- 
 ged : and the recorder addressed the jury as follows, 
 " Gentlemen, you shall not be dismissed till we 
 have a verdict such as the court will accept ; and 
 you shall be locked up without meat, drink, fire, 
 and tobacco ; you shall not think thus to abuse the 
 coui t ; we will have a verdict by the help of God ; 
 or you shall starve for it." Penn, on hca^iig this 
 address, said, " My jury, who are my judges, 
 
18 
 
 ought not to be thus menaced ; their verdict shonld 
 be free and not compelled ; the bench onght to 
 wait on them, and not to forestall them. I do 
 desire that justice may be done me, and that the 
 arbitrary resolves of the bench may not be made 
 the measure of my jury's verdict." Turning more 
 directly to the jury, he said, " You are English- 
 men. Mind your privilege. Give not away your 
 right." 
 
 The next morning, which was Sunday, the jury 
 returned the same verdict as before ; when the 
 magistrates became outrageous, and assailed them 
 in the most vulgar and brutal language. Several 
 times they were sent back, and as often returned 
 with the old verdict, " Guilty of speaking in 
 Gracechurch Street!" 
 
 Among other things, the Recorder observed," Till 
 now I never understood the reason of the policy 
 and prudence of the Spaniards in suffering the 
 Inquisition among them ; and certainly it will 
 never be well with ns, till something like the 
 Spanish Inquisition be in England." 
 
 At length, after the jury had received no re- 
 freshment for two days and two nights, they were 
 again called in ; and the court demanded a positive 
 
19 
 
 answer to this question, " Guilty, or not guilty ?" 
 The foreman replied, " Not guilty !" Then the 
 Recorder observed, " Gentlemen of the jury, I am 
 sorry yon have followed your own judgments, 
 rather than the good advice which was given you. 
 God keep my life out of your hands ! But for 
 this the court fines you forty marks a man ; and 
 imprisonment till paid." 
 
 JV, Perm. " I demand my liberty, being freed 
 by the jury." 
 
 Mayor. No. You are in for your fines." 
 
 W. Perm. " Fines for what ?" 
 
 Mayor. " For contempt of court." 
 
 W. Penn, " I ask, if it be according to the 
 fundamental laws of England, that any Englishman 
 should be fined or amerced, but by the judgment 
 of his peers, or jury ; since it expressly contradicts 
 the fourteenth and twenty-ninth chapters of the 
 Great Charter of England, which say, " No free- 
 man shall be amerced but by the oath of good and 
 lawful men of the vicinage ?" 
 
 Rec. " Take him away." 
 
 W. Penn. " I can never urge the fundamental 
 laws of England, but yon cry, • Take him away !' 
 But it is no wonder, since the Spanish Inquisition 
 
20 
 
 has 90 great a place in the Recorder's heart. God, 
 who is just, will judge you for all these things." 
 
 The prisoners, with every one of the jurymen, 
 were all sent to Newgate. William Penn's father 
 paid the fines so iniqnitously imposed on his son, 
 and his fellow prisoner, and they were accordingly 
 liberated. We know not how long these noble- 
 minded jurymen were immured in prison. It 
 is a subject of congratulation, that in the present 
 day, no one even dares to plead for penal laws in 
 matters of religion. 
 
 The Admiral was now very ill, and rapidly 
 approaching the close of life. The conversation, 
 and kind offices of his son were peculiarly accept- 
 able to him. They had much pleasant and profit- 
 able communion together. In a moment of devout 
 reflection, a little before he expired, he said to 
 his son, — " William, I am weary of the world I 
 I would not live over my days again, if I could 
 command them with a wish ; for the snares of 
 life are greater than the fears of death. This 
 troubles me, that I have offended a gracious God. 
 The thought of this has followed me to this day. 
 O have a care of sin ! It is that which is the 
 sting both of life and death. Three things I com- 
 
21 
 
 mend to you. First, Let nothing in this world 
 tempt you to wrong your conscience. I charge 
 you, do nothing against your conscience ; so will 
 you keep peace at home, which will be a feast to 
 you in a day of trouble. Secondly, Whatever you 
 design to do, lay it justly, and time it seasonably; 
 for that gives security and dispatch. Thirdly, Be 
 not troubled at disappointments ; for if they may 
 be recovered, do it ; if they cannot, trouble is 
 then vain. If you could not have helped it, be 
 content; there is often peace and profit in submit- 
 ting to Providence ; for afflictions make wise. 
 If you could have helped it, let not your trouble 
 exceed instruction for another time. These rules 
 will carry you with firmness and comfort through 
 this inconstant world." 
 
 Looking earnestly at his eon in his last moments, 
 he said, " William, if you and your friends keep 
 to your plain way of preaching, and keep to your 
 plain way of living, you will make an end of 
 the priests to the end of the world. Bury me by 
 my mother. Live all in love. Shun all manner 
 of evil. I pray God to bless you all : and he will 
 bless you all." These were some of his last 
 expressions. 
 
22 
 
 By the death of his father, he now came iuto 
 the possession of an estate of about fifteen hundred 
 a year ; which, with his frugal habits, not only 
 made him independent, but even rich. 
 
 He devoted his leisure, soon after this solemn 
 providence, to writing a full account of his late 
 mock trial; which he justly regarded as a duty 
 that he owed not only to his friends, but to his 
 countrymen in general. 
 
 He retired, when he had taken a preaching 
 excursion to Oxford, to the family mansion in 
 Buckinghamshire. Here, as he and his friends 
 had often been strangely supposed to favour the 
 Roman Catholic system, he wrote his " Caveat 
 against Popery." His enemies, without the shadow 
 of reason, had frequently, no doubt to serve their 
 base purposes, affirmed, that he was a concealed 
 Jesuit. In this publication, he proved in a very 
 satisfactory manner, that the Friends were among 
 the most decided Protestants. It is observable, 
 that in this book, he did not forget very particu- 
 larly to plead for entire liberty of conscience ; 
 affirming, that he was a friend to universal tolera- 
 tion, and a decided enemy to all persecution. 
 Returning to London, in 1671, he was soon 
 
•23 
 
 subjected to new suffering. When preaching in a 
 meeting-house belonging to the Friends, a military 
 guard pulled him from the desk on which he 
 stood, and consigned him again to the Tower. 
 When brought before Sir J. Robinson, the lieute- 
 nant of the Tower, by whose order he had been 
 seized, he pleaded the illegality of the proceedings 
 so powerfully, that he could not but have been 
 liberated, had not his pei'secutors had recourse, 
 as they were accustomed, to the most palpable 
 oppression. Robinson tendered to him the oath of 
 allegiance ; which, as offered to the Friends, was 
 very unnecessary, to say the least; because, if 
 their principles would not suffer them to bear 
 arras conscientiously against the enemies of the 
 country, much less could they do so against their 
 sovereign. The refusal to take this oath subjected 
 W. Penn to imprisonment. " Do you yet," said 
 Sir J. Robinson, " refuse to swear ?" 
 
 W. Penn. " Yes, and that upon better grounds 
 than those for which thou wouldst have me swear, 
 if thou wilt please to hear me." 
 
 Rob. " 1 am sorry you sliould put me upon 
 this severity ; it is no pleasant work to me." 
 
 W. Penn. " These are but words ; it is manifest, 
 
24 
 
 that this is a prepense malice; thou hast several 
 times laid the meetings for me, and this day par- 
 ticularly." 
 
 Roh. " No ; I profess I could not tell you 
 would be there." 
 
 TV. Penn. " Thy own corporal told me you 
 had intelligence at the Tower, that I would be at 
 Wheler Street to-day, almost as soon as I knew it 
 myself. It is disingenuous and partial. I never 
 gave thee occasion for such nnkindness." 
 
 Rob. " I knew no such thing ; but if I had, I 
 confess I should have sent for you." 
 
 W. Penn. "That might have been spared, I do 
 heartily believe it." 
 
 Rob, " I vow, Mr. Penn, I am sorry for you ; 
 you are an ingenious gentleman; all the world 
 must allow you, and do allow you that ; and yon 
 have a plentiful estate; why should yon render 
 yourself unhappy by associating with such a sim- 
 ple people." 
 
 W. Penn. " I confess, I have made it my choice 
 to relinquish the company of those that are inge- 
 niously wicked, to converse with those that are 
 more honestly simple." 
 Rob. " I wish yon wiser." 
 
25 
 
 IF. Penn. " And I wish thee better," 
 
 Rob. " You have been as bad as otlier folks." 
 
 JV. Penn. " When, and where ? I charge thee 
 to tell the company to my face." 
 
 Rob. " Abroad and at home too." 
 
 Here Sir John Shelden interfered, crying out, 
 " No, no. Sir John ; that's too much." And W. 
 Penn indignantly exclaimed, " I make this bold 
 challenge to all men, women, and children upon 
 earth, justly to accuse me, with having seen me 
 drunk, heard me swear, utter a curse, or speak 
 oue obscene word, much less that I ever made it 
 my practice. I speak this to God's glory, who has 
 ever preserved me from the power of these pollu- 
 tions, and who from a child implanted in me a 
 hatred towards them. Thy words shall be thy 
 burden ; and I trample thy slander as dirt under 
 my feet." 
 
 After much more conversation, Robinson sen- 
 tenced him to Newgate for six mouths. " And is 
 this all?" said the injured sufferer, "Thou well 
 knowest a larger imprisonment has not daunted 
 me. I accept it at the hand of the Lord, and am 
 contented to suffer his will. Alas ! you mistake 
 your interests. This is not the way to compass 
 
26 
 
 your ends. I would have thee, and all men know, 
 that I scorn that religion which is not worth 
 suffenng for, and able to sustain those that are 
 afflicted for it. Thy religion persecutes, and mine 
 forgives. I desire God to forgive you all that are 
 concerned in my commitment, and I leave you all 
 in perfect charity, wishing you everlasting salva- 
 tion." How does such a man rise in moral gran- 
 deur and dignity, far above all his vexatious and 
 cruel persecutors ! 
 
 But though in prison, he was not idle. He well 
 knew the value of time, and how it ought to be 
 improved for the glory of God, and the good of 
 man. He, therefore, wrote an Address to the 
 House of Parliament, powerfully pleading for 
 entire liberty of conscience. He addressed two 
 letters to the Sheriffs of London, calling their 
 attention to the state of the prisons. He also pub- 
 lished a most excellent work, entitled " The Great 
 Case of Liberty of Conscience debated and defend- 
 ed." The following are a few sentences from this 
 book, adduced as a brief specimen of its general 
 spirit and worth. Addressing the supreme autho- 
 rities, he says, "The cause of this appeal is, to 
 solicit a conversion of that power to our relief. 
 
27 
 
 which hitherto has been employed to our depres- 
 sion; that after this large experience of our 
 innocency, and long since expired apprenticeship 
 of cruel sufferings, you will be pleased to cancel 
 all our bonds, and give us a possession of that 
 freedom to which we are entitled by birth-right 
 as Englishmen. 
 
 "This has been often promised us, and we as 
 earnestly have expected the performance ; but to 
 this time we labour under the unspeakable pressure 
 of filthy prisons, and daily confiscation of our 
 goods, to the apparent ruin of entire families. 
 
 " It is the infelicity of governors to jee and hear 
 by the eyes and ears of other men ; and which is 
 equally unhappy for the people. And we are bold 
 to say, that suppositions and mere conjectures 
 have been the best measures that most have taken 
 of us and of our principles ; for, whilst there have 
 been none more inoffensive, we have been marked 
 for capital offenders. 
 
 " Could we obtain the favour of a conference, 
 we doubt not to evince a clear consistency of our 
 life and doctrine to the English Government ; and 
 that an indulgence of Dissenters in the sense 
 requested, is not only most christian and rational, 
 
28 
 
 but prudent also ; and the contrary, however 
 plausibly insinuated, the most injurious to the 
 peace, and destructive of that discreet balance, 
 which the best and wisest states have ever care- 
 fully observed. 
 
 " But if this fair and equal offer find not a place 
 with you on which to rest its foot, much less that 
 it should bring us back the olive branch of tolera- 
 tion, we heartily embrace and bless the Providence 
 of God ; and, in his strength, resolve by patience 
 to outweary persecution ; and by our constant 
 sufferings seek to obtain a victory more glorious 
 than any our adversaries can achieve by all their 
 cruelties." 
 
 He maintained, that no external, coercive power 
 could convince the understanding; that fines and 
 imprisoments could not be judged fit and adequate 
 penalties for faults purely intellectual; that the 
 enactment of laws to restrain persons from the 
 free exercise of their consciences in matters of 
 religion, was but the knotting of whipcord on the 
 part of the enactors to lash their own posterity, 
 whom they could never promise to be conformed 
 for ages to come to a national religion, that they 
 who imposed fetters upon the conscience, claimed 
 
•29 
 
 infallibility, which all Protestants rejected; that 
 they usurped the divine prerogative, assuming 
 tl»e judgment of the great tribunal; that they 
 overthrew the Christian religion in the very nature 
 of it, for it was spiritual, and not of this world; 
 that they opposed the plainest testimonies of divine 
 writ ; that they waged war against the privileges 
 of nature, by exalting themselves, and enslaving 
 their fellow creatures ; that they acted contrary to 
 all true notions of government ; first, as to the 
 nature of it, which was justice; Secondly, as to 
 the execution of it, which was prudence ; and 
 thirdly, as to the end of it, which was happiness. 
 
 After his six months imprisonment, he was 
 liberated, and took a tour on the continent. On 
 his return in 1672, he married Gulielma Maria 
 Springett, daughter of Sir W. Springett, of Darling 
 in Sussex. Her father had fallen at the siege of 
 fiamber, in the service of the Parliament. She 
 was as remarkable for the beauty of her person, as 
 for the sweetness of her disposition. They took up 
 their abode at Rickmansworth in Hertfordshire. 
 
 Charles II, in 1671, published a declaration of 
 liberty of conscience in matters of religion, which, 
 for a season, sheltered the Non-conformists from 
 
30 
 
 the malice oi their persecutors. In 1674, the Par- 
 liament considering this declaration of the King, 
 as an nndae extension of his prerogative, obliged 
 him to revoke it. This was a signal for the ene- 
 mies of all true religion, again to shew their malice 
 against its supporters. Bigotted magistrates again 
 put the old persecuting enactments into force. 
 W. Penn wrote several able tracts on the occasion. 
 In one of them he said, " There can be no reason 
 to persecute any man in this world, about any 
 thing that belongs to the next. Who art thou, 
 says the holy Scripture in this case, that judgest 
 another man's servant? He must stand or fall to 
 his master, the great God. Let the tares and the 
 wheat grow together till the harvest. To call fire 
 from Heaven was no part of Christ's religion. 
 His sword is spiritual, like bis kingdom. Be 
 pleased to remember, that faith is the gift of God, 
 and what is not of faith is sin." 
 
 As the evil of persecution began to spread 
 farther, he addressed a letter to the King on the 
 subject; but it was of no avail. Fines were levied 
 without warrants, and locks and bolts were 
 broken in pieces. Goods twice the value of the 
 tines, were seized and taken ; and not a few 
 
31 
 
 peaceable and unoffending persons, vrere again 
 immured in prison. Parents and children were 
 separated. Cattle were driven away ; the cow of 
 the widow, or the fatherless, was not spared. 
 Corn stacks were seized, thrashed out, and sold. 
 " Household goods were distrained, so that even a 
 stool was not left in some cases to sit on ; and the 
 very milk boiling on the fire for the family, was 
 thrown to the dogs, in order to obtain the skillet 
 as a prize. These enormities sometimes took place 
 on suspicion only that persons had preached, or 
 attended a conventicle ; and to such lengths were 
 they carried, that even some of those who went 
 only to visit and sit by their sick relations, were 
 adjudged to be a company met to pray iu defiance 
 of the law." W. Penn now published, and the 
 work was certainly very seasonable, " England's 
 present Interest, considered with honour to the 
 Prince, and safety to the People." In this treatise 
 he said, that Englishmen bad three birth-rights. 
 The first consisted in ownership and undisturbed 
 possession of property, and liberty of person from 
 the violence of arbitrary power; the second was, 
 in the voting of every law that was made whereby 
 that ownership in liberty and property might be 
 
32 
 
 maintained; the third, he said was, in having an in- 
 fluence upon, and a great share in, the judicatory 
 power, so that they were not to be condemned but 
 by the votes of freemen. To live honestly, to do no 
 injury to another, and to give every man his due, 
 was sufficient he justly remarked, to entitle every 
 native to English privileges. Whether the ground 
 of a man's religious dissent be rational or not, 
 severity is unjustifiable ; for the maxim is a just 
 one, that whoever is in the wrong, the persecutor 
 cannot be in the right. 
 
 The outrages of the persecutors still continuing, 
 he printed a small book entitled, " The Cry of the 
 Oppressed for Justice." In this volume he merely 
 narrates some of the atrocities which were com- 
 mitted daily ander the semblance of jastice, hoping 
 that the bare recital of them would excite atten- 
 tion, and do good. The following are cases selected 
 from this performance. " Four persons were sent 
 to prison for attending a meeting in Leicestershire, 
 from whom goods of various kinds were seized to 
 the amount of two hundred and thirty-six pounds ; 
 their very bed-clothes, and working tools being 
 taken from them. In Nottinghamshire, James 
 NevU, a justice, took from J. Samsun, nineteen 
 
33 
 
 head of beasts, and goods to tlie value of sixty 
 pounds. In the county of Norfolk, John Patteson 
 had two hundred sheep taken from him, and 
 W. Barber, cows, carts, a plough, a pair of har- 
 rows, and hay, to the amount of fifty pounds. 
 Barber's house had been rifled before ten times, 
 and he was then a prisoner. W. Brazier, shoe- 
 maker, at Cambridge, was fined twenty pounds 
 for holding a religious meeting in his honse. The 
 officers took his leather, last, the seat he worked 
 upon, wearing clothes, bed, and bedding. F. Paw- 
 lett, a magistrate of Somersetshire, fined thirty-two 
 persons for being at a burial, and seized cows, 
 corn, and other goods, to the amount of eighty-two 
 pounds, and upwards. As no one would buy the 
 cattle, the justice employed a creature of his to 
 buy them for himself." There are many such 
 instances of cruelty and oppression detailed in tlie 
 same work. 
 
 In 1675, he held a public controversy at Rick- 
 mansworth, with the celebrated Richard Baxter. 
 The particulars of this dispute are not recorded. 
 It began at ten in the morning, and lasted till five 
 in the afternoon. The disputants, in tuni, addressed 
 two rooms thronged with people of almost all 
 
 D 
 
34 
 
 ranks in society. It appears, that Mr. Baxter 
 used many hard terms on the occasion ; since there 
 is a letter of W. Penn's in which he says, " he 
 forgives hiui his hard words, and his many seve- 
 rities." 
 
 In 1676, Jolui Fenwick and Edward Byllinge, 
 having purchased one-half of New Jersey in North 
 America, from Lord Berkeley, a dispute arose 
 between them, the settlement of whieb was sub- 
 mitted to the arbitration of W. Penn. After he 
 had taken much pains and trouble, an amicabkr 
 adjustment took place, and Fenwick, with bi» 
 family and friends, departed to find a home in the 
 western part of the world. Byllinge, unable to 
 meet the demands of his creditors, agreed to deliver 
 up, to trust, his newly -acquired property in Jersey 
 for their benefit. He fixed on W. Penn as one of 
 the trustees. The laud being divided into one 
 hundred lots, they assigned ton of these to Fen- 
 wick, as a repayment for time, trouble, and money 
 advanced to Lord Berkeley. The other ninety lots 
 were kept for the creditors of Byllinge. 
 
 W. Penn was now called to the discharge of a 
 most important duty ; the formation of a constitu- 
 tion for the new settlers of this new colony. He 
 
35 
 
 •^rew up what he denominated, concessions, or 
 terms of agreement, which were to be signed by 
 all the purchasers of land. The outline of his plan 
 may be given in few words. " The people were 
 to meet annually, to choose one honest man for 
 each proprietary. They who were so chosen were 
 to sit in assembly. They were there to make, 
 alter, and repeal laws. They were also to choose a 
 governor, with twelve assistants, who were to 
 execute the laws, bnt only during their pleasure. 
 Every man was to be capable both of choosing 
 and being chosen. No man was to be arrested, 
 imprisoned, or condemned in his estate or liberty, 
 but by twelve men of the neighbourhood. No 
 man was to be imprisoned for debt ; but his estate 
 was to satisfy his creditors as far as it would go, 
 and then he was to be set at liberty to work again 
 for himself and family. No man was to be inter- 
 rupted or molested on account of the exercise of 
 his religion." Happy would it have been for every 
 state, if the people had been governed by such 
 wise and salutary regulations. 
 
 In 1677, he left Rickmansworth as a residence, 
 for Worminghurst in Sussex. He here devoted 
 his time very much to the interests of the Jersey 
 
36 
 
 colony. A large portion of the land was soon 
 sold, and several vessels, laden with settlers and 
 goods, sailed for America. 
 
 About this time he received the following letter 
 from Elizabeth, Princess Palatine of the Rhine, 
 to whom he had previously written, having heard 
 that deep impressions of a religious nature had 
 been made upon her mind. "This, my friend, 
 will inform you, that both your letters were accep- 
 table, together with your wishes for my obtaining 
 those virtues, which may make me a worthy 
 follower of our great King and Saviour Jesus 
 Christ. What I have done for his true disciples is 
 not so much as a cup of cold water. It affords 
 them no refreshment. Neither did I expect any 
 fruit of my letter to the Duchess of L. as I ex- 
 pressed at the same time to B. Furley. But as 
 R. Barclay desired I would write, I could not 
 refuse him, nor omit to do any thing that was 
 judged conducing to his liberty, though it should 
 expose me to the derision of the world. But this 
 a mere moral man may reach at ; the true inward 
 graces are yet wanting in your affectionate friend, 
 Elizabeth." 
 
 W. Penn, soon after the receipt of this letter, 
 left England for a journey on the continent. At 
 
37 
 
 Rotterdam, he tells ns, they had two meetings ; 
 the Gospel was preached, the dead were raised, 
 and the living comforted. Leaving Holland, after 
 much preaching, and religious conference, he 
 soon arrived at Herwerden, where the Princess 
 held her court ; with whom the Conntess of 
 Homes resided as a companion. The morning 
 after their arrival, R. Barclay and W. Penn 
 waited on the Princess, by her own appointment, 
 at seven o'clock. They were received with ex- 
 pressions of extraordinary kindness. They held a 
 religioaa meeting, which did not break up till 
 eleven. In the afternoon they held another meet- 
 ing for worship, which did not end till seven in 
 the evening. The third day they assembled again 
 for worship, when many of the inhabitants of the 
 town were present. "This meeting," says W. Penn, 
 " began with a weighty exercise and travail in 
 prayer, that God would glorify his name on that 
 day and this appears to have been the case ; for 
 the influence of the Holy Spirit seems to have 
 been mighty, both upon the preachers and hearers. 
 The Princess was so overcome, that when she 
 went to take leave of W. Penn after the meeting, 
 she could scarcely find utterance for her words. 
 
38 
 
 R. Barclay retai ned to Amsterdam ; bot W. Pena 
 continued his journey to Cassel ; here many kindly 
 received him ; especially one " Durseus, a person 
 of seventy-seven years of age, who had forsaken 
 his learning and school divinity for the teachings, 
 of the Holy Spirit." From hence he journeyed 
 to several of the principle towns in Germany and 
 HoUand. 
 
 Before he left the continent he went to pay 
 another visit to Herwerden. Here he found the 
 Governor of Donau ; they soon entered upon reli- 
 gious discussion ; and both agreed, " that self- 
 denial, and mortification, and victory therein, were 
 the duty, and therefaie ought to be the endeavour 
 of every true Christian." On this occasion W. Penn 
 gave the Governor some account of his own his- 
 tory, and made many remarks on the necessity of 
 the work of the Holy Spirit on the heart. As he 
 knew it was a final leave which he was about to 
 take of this interesting spot, he was much affected. 
 Falling on his knees, imploring the divine blessing 
 on the Princess, he bade her farewell. 
 
 He and his friend J. Ciaus took their places in 
 the post waggon ; as there were many passengers, 
 they were very uncomfortable for want of room» 
 
and (iiil not lie down or sleep lor three nighti. 
 Most of their fellow travellers, as evenins^ ap 
 proached, sanv several of Luther's psalms aiul 
 faymns; this was their usual custom; and looked 
 as if they were a religious people ; but W. Penii 
 having observed that their conversation was gene 
 rally light and vain, he seized an opportunity oi 
 telling them, " that to be full of levity, and profane 
 talk one ho«ir, and to sing psalms to God the next, 
 was deceit, and an abomination." 
 
 Having heard, that at the village of Wonder 
 wick, there resided a nobleman of serious and 
 retired habits, \V. Penn and G. Fox. went to pay 
 him a visit. They were very kindly received. 
 Having given them an atfecting account of his 
 own religious experience, he introduced them to 
 his wife and family. W. Penn delivered a dis- 
 course on the occasion, which was exceedingly 
 impressive, at the close of which he felt constrained 
 to kneel down and pray. " Great brokenness of 
 heart," says he, " fell upon all, and that grace 
 which was before the world began, was richly 
 manifested in and among us." The nobleman and 
 his wife blessed them; and said they considered 
 their house as blessed for their sakes. 
 
40 
 
 At Brill Ihty went on board the packet for Erjg- 
 laiid. The weather was eutirely against them ; and 
 the vessel was so leaky that they w ere iu the most 
 imminent danger. At length, after having been 
 two days and three nights out at sea, they landed 
 at Harwich. From thence he proceeded on horse- 
 back to London, preaching at several places on his 
 way. He stayed, for the same purpose, for several 
 days in the metropolis ; and then jonrneyed to his 
 seat in Sussex, where he safely arrived, after an 
 absence of three months and ten days, and after 
 an excursion of nearly three thousand miles. On 
 the afternoon of his return home, he assembled 
 his whole family for worship, especially offering 
 thanksgiving to the God of all their mercies. 
 
 In 1678, he petitioned parliament, that the word 
 of a member of the Society of Friends, might be 
 regarded as equivalent to an oath, provided, that 
 if any one should be found to give a false testi- 
 mony, he should be liable to the same punishment 
 as the person who took a false oath. On account 
 of this petition he was admitted to a hearing before 
 a Committee of the House of Commons, when ho 
 addressed the gentlemen who composed it in the 
 following manner : — 
 
41 
 
 " It' we ought lo believe that it is our duty, 
 according to the doctriae of the apostle, to be 
 always ready to give an account of the hope that 
 is in us, and this to every sober and private en- 
 quirer, certainly much more ought we to hold 
 ourselves obliged to declare with all readiness, 
 when called to it by so great an authority, what is 
 not our hope; especially when our very safety 
 is eminently concerned in so doing ; and when we 
 cannot decline this discrimination of ourselves 
 from Papists, without being conscious to ourselves 
 of the guilt of our own sufferings, for so must 
 every man needs be who suffers mutely under 
 another character than that which truly belongeth 
 to him and his belief. That which giveth me a 
 more than ordinary right to speak at this time, 
 and in this place, is the great abuse which I have 
 received above any other of my profession ; for a 
 long time I have not only been supposed a Papist, 
 but a Seminary, a Jesuit, an emissary of Rome, 
 and in pay from the Pope ; a man dedicating my 
 endeavours to the interests and advancement of 
 that party. Nor hath this been the report of the 
 rabble, but the jealousy and insinuation of persons 
 otherwise sober and discreet. Nay, some zealots 
 
42 
 
 for tbe Protestant religion liave been so far gone in 
 this mistake, as not only to think ill of us, and 
 decline our conversation, but to take courage to 
 themselves, to prosecute us as a sort of concealed 
 Papists ; and the truth is, that, what with one 
 thing, and what with another, we have been as 
 the wool-sacks and common whipping-stock of the 
 kingdom : all laws have been let loose upon us ; 
 as if the design were not to reform but to destroy 
 as ; and this not for wliat we are, but for what we 
 are not. It is hard, that we must thus bear the 
 stripes of another interest, and be their proxy in 
 punishment; but it is worse that some men can 
 please themselves in such a sort of administration. 
 But mark; I would not be mistaken, I am far 
 from thinking it fit, because I exclaim against the 
 injustice of whipping Quakers for Papists, that 
 Papists should be whipped for their consciences. 
 No ; for though the hand, pretended to be lifted 
 up against them, hath, I know not by what discre- 
 tion, lighted heavily upon us, and we complain, 
 yet we do not mean that any should take a fresh 
 aim at them, or that they should come in our room, 
 for we must give the liberty we ask, and cannot 
 be false to our principles, though it were to relieve 
 
43 
 
 ourselves ; for we have good will to all men, and 
 would have none suflFer for a truly sober and con- 
 scientious dissent on any hand. And I humbly 
 take leave to add, that those methods against 
 persons so qualified, do not seem to me to be 
 convincing, or indeed adequate to the reason of 
 mankind ; but this I submit to your consideration. 
 To conclude ; I hope we shall be held excused of 
 the men of that (the Roman Catholic) profession 
 in giving this distinguishing declaration, since it is 
 not with design to expose them, but, first, to pay 
 that regard we owe to the enquiry of this Com- 
 mittee, and, in the next place, to relieve ourselves 
 from the daily spoil and ruin which now attend 
 and threaten many hundreds of families, by the 
 execution of laws, which, we humbly conceive, 
 were never made against us. 
 
 " The candid hearing our sufferings have re- 
 ceived from you, and the fair and easy entertain- 
 ment you have given us, oblige me to add whatever 
 can increase your satisfaction about us; I hope 
 you do not believe I would tell you a lie. I am 
 sure I should choose an ill time and place to tell 
 it in ; but I thank God it is too late in the day for 
 that. There are some here who have known me 
 
44 
 
 formerly. I believe they will gay I was never 
 that man. anJ it would be hard if, after a volun- 
 tary neglect of the advantages of this world, I 
 should sit down in my retirement short of common 
 truth. 
 
 "Excuse the length of my introduction; it is for 
 this I make it, I was bred a Protestant, and that 
 strictly too. I lost nothing by time or study. 
 For years, reading, travel, and observation, made 
 the religion of my education the religion of my 
 judgment. My alteration hath brought none to 
 that belief ; and though the posture I am in may 
 seem odd or strange to you, yet I am conscientious; 
 and, till you know me better, I hope your charity 
 will call it rather my unhappiness than my crime. 
 I do tell you again, and here solemnly declare, in 
 the presence of Almighty God, and before yon all, 
 that the profession I now make, and the Society 
 I now adhere to have been so far from altering 
 that Protestant judgment I had, that I am not 
 conscious to myself of having receded from an 
 iota of any one principle maintained by those 
 first Protestants and Reformers of Germany, and 
 our own martyrs at home, against the See of Rome. 
 On the contrary, I do with great truth asture yon 
 
45 
 
 that we are of the same negative faith with the 
 ancient Protestant church ; and upon occasions 
 shall be ready, by God's assistance, to make it 
 appear, that we are of the same belief as to tlie 
 most fundamental positive articles of her creed 
 too: and therefore, it is we think hard, that 
 though we deny, in common with her, those 
 doctrines of Rome so s^alously protested against, 
 (from whence the name Protestants) yet that we 
 should be so unhappy as to suffer, and that with 
 extreme severity, by those very laws on purpose 
 made against the maintainers of those doctrines 
 which we do so deny. We choose no suffering; 
 for God knows what we have already suffered, 
 and how many sufficient and trading families are 
 reduced to great poverty by it. We think ourselves 
 a useful people ; we are sure we are a peaceable 
 people : yet, if we must still suffer, let us not 
 suffer as Popish Recusants, but as Protestant 
 Dissenters. 
 
 "But I would obviate another objection, and 
 that none of the least that hath been made against 
 us, namely, that we are enemies to government 
 in general, and particularly dissatisfied with that 
 which we live under. I think it not amiss, but 
 
46 
 
 very reasonable, yea, my duty, now to declare to 
 you, and this I do with good conscience, in the 
 Bight of Almighty God, first, that we believe 
 government to be God's ordinance ; and next that 
 this present governmeut is established by the 
 providence of God, and the law of the land, and 
 that it is our Christian duty readily to obey it in all 
 its just laws ; and wherein we cannot comply 
 through tenderness of conscience, in all cases not 
 to revile or conspire against the Government, but 
 with christian humility and patience tire out all 
 mistakes about us and wait the better information 
 of those who, we believe, do as undeservedly as 
 severely treat us; and I know not what greater 
 security can be given by any people, or how any 
 people, or how any Government can be easier 
 from the subject of it. 
 
 " I shall conclude with this, that we are so far 
 from esteeming it hard or ill that this house hath 
 put us upon this discrimination ; that, on the 
 contrary, we value it, as we ought to do, a high 
 favor ; and cannot choose but see and humbly 
 acknowledge God's providence therein, that you 
 should give us this fair occasion to discharge 
 ourselves of a burden we have not with more 
 
47 
 
 patience than injustice suffered too many year» 
 nnder. And 1 hope our conversation shall always 
 manifest the grateful resentment of our minds for 
 the justice and civility of this opportunity ; and so 
 I pray God direct yon." 
 
 In 1679, he published his "Address to Protes- 
 tants." The following admirable sentiments, with 
 many others of a similar description, are to 
 be found in this work. " We must do violence 
 to our understandings, if we can think that the 
 men who hate their brethren, and shed one ano- 
 ther's blood, can be true followers of that Jesus, 
 who loved his enemies, and who gave his blood 
 for the world. Whenever Caesar meddles with 
 what does not belong to him, he confounds his 
 own things with the things of God. Thus he 
 confounds divine worship with civil obedience, 
 and the cbarch with the state. Such a conduct is 
 pernicious. It weakens Caesar's own state, because 
 it irritates so many of his subjects against him. It 
 is contrary to the universal goodness of God, whom 
 Caesar ought to imitate ; and who is seen dispens- 
 ing his sun, light, air, and showers to all. It bars 
 up heaven against all farther illumination ; for, let 
 God send what light he pleases, Cajsar's people 
 
48 
 
 cannot receive it without Caesar's licence. It tend» 
 to stifle and punish sincerity. It leads directly to 
 Atheism, because it extinguishes the sense of con- 
 science for worldly ends."—" Christ gave his 
 church power to bind and to loose, but not to bind 
 with fetters. He oi-dcrs obdurate offenders belong- 
 ing to it to be treated as the heathen, but said 
 nothing of fines, whips, stocks, and imprisonment. 
 Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty ; 
 but where jails, pillories, and chains are, there 
 can be none." — Truly, the writer of these fine 
 sentiments was not only a great, but also a good 
 and a wise man. 
 
 Though his father had been dead some years, 
 his affairs with the government were still unset- 
 tled. The Admiral had advanced, at different 
 times, considerable sums for the naval service ; his 
 pay also was greatly in arrears. As much as 
 sixteen thousand pounds were due to him. As 
 there was little hope of getting any money from 
 Charles II, whose profligacy spent all he could 
 lay his hands on ; W. Penn, therefore, petitioned, 
 that lands might be assigned him in America, 
 to the amount of his claim. The reason of this 
 application was with the hope of doing extensive 
 
49 
 
 Rood. " Finding," says one, " his friends weie 
 harrassed all over England by Spiritual Courts, 
 as they are strangely miscalled, he resolved to 
 put himself at the head of as many as would 
 go with him, and thus conduct them to a place 
 where they would be no longer subjected to suffer- 
 ing on account of their religion." W. Penn tells 
 us himself, that his motive was, " To serve God's 
 truth, and people." Subsequent events proved 
 abundantly that this was the case. 
 
 In 1681, East New Jersey was offered for sale by 
 the will of Sir George Carteret. W. Penn was the 
 purchaser ; but he associated some other gentlemen 
 with him in the concern. He now projected a 
 new town on the lands which remained unoccu- 
 pied. He proposed offers of land on advantageous 
 terms, which were willingly accepted, especially 
 by many of the people of Scotland. 
 
 His petition relative to the country on the Dela- 
 ware, met with much opposition, chiefly because 
 he did not belong to the established church. At 
 length he succeeded, and a charter, with ample 
 powers for the government and settlement of the 
 new colony, was assigned him. His own account 
 of the matter presents him to posterity in a very 
 E 
 
50 
 
 amiable point of view. " After many waitings, 
 watchings, solicitings, and disputes in council, the 
 country was tliis day confirmed to inc nnder the 
 great seal of England, by the name of Pennsylvania, 
 a name which the king gave it in honour of my 
 father." He designed to have had it called New 
 Wales, but the Under Secretary of State, who 
 was a Welshman, supposing his country would be 
 degraded by it, vehemently opposed it. He then 
 proposed Sylvania, because it was a woodland 
 district. He told the Under Secretary, that he 
 would give him twenty guineas if he would get the 
 country named according to his wishes. At last, 
 he went to the king to get the name of Pcnu 
 obliterated, but the monarch desired that it might 
 be called Pennsylvania, from the respect which he 
 cherished to the memory of his father : to which, 
 of coarse, be was obliged to submit. 
 
 He now drew np an account of his new pro- 
 vince in America, and published it with a copy of 
 the Royal Charter. At the same time he offered a 
 hundred acres of land for forty shillings, and a 
 quit-rent of one shilling per annum to the proprie- 
 tor for ever. He stipulated, that servants should 
 have fifty acres of land, when the time of their 
 
51 
 
 servitude expired. " I desire," said he in this 
 document, " all my dear country-folks, who may 
 be inclined to go into those parts, to consider 
 seriously the premises; as well the inconvcniency 
 as future ease and plenty; that so none may move 
 rashly, or from a fickle but from a solid mind, 
 having above all things an eye to the providence 
 of God in the disposing of themselves; and I 
 would further advise all such at least to have the 
 permission, if not the good-liking of their near 
 relations, for that is both natural and a duty 
 incumbent on all. And by this, both natural aflfec- 
 tion, and a friendly and profitable correspondence 
 will be preserved between them, in all which 
 1 beseech Almighty God to direct us ; that his 
 blessing may attend our honest endeavours, and 
 then the consequence of our undertakings will 
 turn to the glory of his name, and all true happi- 
 ness be to us and our posterity." 
 
 One prominent feature in all his stipulations in 
 America, was his great concern that the native 
 Indians should be treated with justice and pro- 
 priety. He enjoined, though it had been usual 
 with planters to overreach them in various ways, 
 " that whatever was sold them in consideration of 
 E 2 
 
52 
 
 their fnrs, shonid be sold in the public market- 
 place, and there suffer the test, whether good or 
 bad ; if good, to pass ; if not good, not to be sold 
 for good ; that the said natives might neither be 
 abused nor provoked ;— that no man should by any 
 ways or means, in word or deed, affront or wrong 
 any Indian, but he should incur the same penalty 
 of the law, as if he had committed it against his 
 fellow planter ; and if any Indian should abuse, 
 in word or deed, any planter of the province, that 
 the said planter should not be his own judge, but 
 that he should make his complaint to the Governor 
 of the province, or his deputy, or some magistrate, 
 who should, to the utmost of his power, interpose 
 with the King of the said Indian, and procure all 
 reasonable satisfaction. And that all differences 
 between planters and Indians should be settled by 
 twelve men, by six planters and six Indians, and 
 that so they might live friendly together, and 
 occasions of mischief be prevented." This regard 
 for the welfare of the native inhabitants of a 
 country, was perfectly new ; as the Spaniards, 
 and others, had generally treated them as so many 
 brute animals, of whom they might dispose as 
 they pleased ; and will justly endear the name and 
 
35 
 
 character of W. Penn, to the remotest generations. 
 This great and good man took especial care tu 
 assure the settlers, that he gave them that entire 
 liberty of conscience which their own country 
 denied them, and on behalf of which, he had 
 written and suffered so much. " In reverence," 
 says he, " to God, the father of light and spirits, 
 the author, as well as object of all divine know- 
 ledge, faith and worsliip, I do, for me and mine, 
 declare and establish for the first fundamental of 
 the government of my province, that every person 
 that doth and shall reside therein, shall have and 
 enjoy the free profession of his or her faith, and 
 exercise of worship toward God, in such way and 
 manner as every such person shall in conscience 
 believe is most acceptable to God." 
 
 In a letter to a friend he farther, and in a very 
 interesting manner, explains his own views. " f 
 have been," says he, " these thirteen years, the 
 servant of Truth, and of the Friends ; and, for my 
 testimony's sake, have lost much; not only the 
 greatness and preferment of this world, but sixteen 
 thousand pounds of my estate, whicli, had I not 
 been what I am, I had long ago obtained. But 
 1 raurnnir not : the Lord is good to me ; and the 
 
54 
 
 interest his truth has given me with his people, 
 may more than repair it; for many are drawn 
 forth to be concerned with me ; and perhaps this 
 way of satisfaction hath more the hand of God in 
 it than a downriglit payment. This I can say, 
 that I had an opening of joy as to these parts, 
 in the year 1661, at Oxfoixl, twenty years since ; 
 and as my understanding and inclinations have 
 been much directed to observe and reprove mis- 
 chiefs in government, so it is now put into my 
 power to settle one. For the matters of liberty 
 and privilege, I purpose that which is extraor- 
 dinary ; and leave myself and successors no power 
 of doing mischief, that the will of one man may 
 not hinder the good of a whole country." 
 
 He sent out with the first ships Col. W. Mark- 
 ham, a relation of his, to confer with the Indians 
 respecting their lands, and to conclude with them 
 a treaty of perpetual amity. Several commissioners 
 also accompanied him ; they were the bearers of 
 the following letter, which was written with his 
 own hand . — 
 
 " There is a great Go<l, and Power, which hath 
 made the world and all things therein ; to whom 
 you and I, and all people, owe their being and 
 
55 
 
 well-being, and to whom you and I must one day 
 ^ive an account for all that we have done in the 
 world. 
 
 " This great God has written his law in our 
 hearts, by which we are taught and commanded 
 to love, and to help, and to do good to one 
 another. Now this great God hath been pleased 
 to make me concerned in your part of the world ; 
 and the king of the country where I live hatli 
 given me a great province therein : but I desire- 
 to enjoy it with your love and consent, that we 
 may always live together as neighbours and friends; 
 else what would Uie Great God do to us, who hath 
 made us, not to destroy and devour one another, 
 but to live soberly and kindly together in tlie 
 world ? Now I would have you well observe, that 
 I am very sensible of the unkindness and injustice 
 which have been too much exercised toward you 
 by the people of these parts of the world, who 
 have sought themselves to make great advantages 
 by you, rather than to be examples of goodness 
 and patience unto you. This I hear hath been a 
 matter of trouble unto you, and caused great 
 grudging and animosities, sometimes to the shed- 
 ding of blood, whirli hatli m:i(le th»- Great God 
 
56 
 
 angry. But I am not such a man, as is well 
 known in my own country. I have great love 
 and regard toward you, and desire to win and 
 gain your love and friendship by a kind, jnst, and 
 peaceable life ; and the people I eend are of the 
 same mind, and shall in all things behave them- 
 selves accordingly ; and if in any thing they shall 
 offend you or your people, yon shall have a full 
 and speedy satisfaction for the same, by an equal 
 number of jnst men on both sides, that by no 
 means yoa may have just occasion of being 
 offended against them. 
 
 " I shall shortly come and see you myself, at 
 which time we may more largely and freely confer 
 and discourse of these matters. In the mean 
 time I hav3 sent my Commissioners to treat with 
 you about land, and a firm league of peace. Let 
 me desire you to be kind to them, and to the 
 people, and receive the presents and tokens which 
 I have sent you, as a testimony of my good-will 
 to you, and of my resolution to live justly, peace- 
 ably, and friendly with you. 
 
 " I am your loving Friend, 
 
 William Pknn." 
 
57 
 
 There is a letter which he this year wrote to 
 Robert Vickris, which deserves to be preserved on 
 account of its piety, simplicity, and beauty of 
 expression. The son of this individual had joined 
 the Friends ; this circumstance did not produce 
 any alienation of spirit in his father towards hira, 
 which procured him the ardent esteem of W. Peun. 
 
 Dear Frienu, 
 
 " In my dear and heavenly farewell to the city 
 of Bristol, thou wast often upon my spirit ; and 
 the wishes of my soul are, that the Lord would 
 abundantly fill thee with the consolations of his 
 Holy Spirit ; and that the days thou hast to pass 
 on this side of the grave, thou mayest be fitting 
 for his coming, that comes as a thief in the night; 
 that at what watch of the night soever it be, thou 
 mayest awake with bis likeness, and enter the 
 rest that is eternal. So the Lord more and more 
 gather thee out of every visible fading thing, and 
 prepare thee for himself. 
 
 " Dear Friend, be faithful to that appearance of 
 God, and manifestation of the love of the Lord to 
 thy soul that visits thee. The Lord is near thee, 
 with thee, and in thee, to enlighten, melt, and 
 refresh thee. It is his presence, not seen or felt 
 
58 
 
 by the wicked, that gathers and revives the soul 
 that seeks him, 
 
 " So the Lord be with thee, and remember into 
 thy bosom the sincere love thou hast shewn to thy 
 son and his friends ! I say no more, but in the 
 Lord, farewell ! 
 
 " Thy truly aflfectionate Friend, 
 William Penn." 
 
 About this time he was chosen fellow of tlie 
 Royal Society. 
 
 In 1682, his mother, for whom he had cherished 
 the warmest affection, died. She had often pleaded 
 for him with his father, and had supported him, 
 when he had no other resource. He was much 
 afflicted, for a season, at the remembrance of 
 his loss. 
 
 But circumstances obliged him to direct his 
 attention, without delay, to his American province. 
 He now drew up a Constitution by which its 
 affairs were to be regulated. This code of laws 
 is remarkable for its simplicity and true wisdom. 
 " Government," says he, " seems to me a part of 
 religion itself, a thing sacred in its institution and 
 end ; for if it does not directly remove the cause, 
 it crushes the effects of evil. They weakly err, 
 
59 
 
 who thiuk there is no other use of government 
 than correction, which is the coarsest part of it. 
 Any government is free to the people under it, 
 whatever be the frame, where the laws rule, and 
 tlie people are a party to those laws ; and mortr 
 than this is tyranny, oligarchy, or confusion. 
 There is hardly one frame of government in the 
 world so ill-designed by its tirst founders, that in 
 good hands would not do well enough. Govern- 
 ments, like clocks, go from the motion men give 
 them; and, as governments are made and moved 
 by men, so by them they are ruined too. Where- 
 fore, governments rather depend upon men, than 
 men upon governments. Let men be good, and 
 the government cannot be bad. If it be ill, they 
 will cure it. But if men be bad, let the govern- 
 ment be never so good, they will endeavour to 
 warp and spoil it to their turn. 
 
 " I know some say. Let us have good laws, and 
 no matter for the men that execute them. But 
 let them consider, that though good laws do well, 
 good men do better ; for good laws may want 
 good men, and be abolished, or invaded by ill 
 men ; but good men will never want good laws, 
 nor suffer ill ones. That which makes a good 
 
60 
 
 constitntion, must keep it ; namely, men of wis' 
 dom and virtne, qualities which, because they 
 descend not with worldly inheritances, must be 
 carefully propagated by a virtuous education of 
 youth, for which after ages will owe more to the 
 care and prudence of founders and the successive 
 magistracy, than to their parents for their private 
 patrimonies. 
 
 " With reverence towards God, and good con- 
 science towards men, we have to the best of our 
 skill, composed the laws of this country to the 
 great end of government, to support power in 
 reverence with the people, and to secure the 
 people from the abuse of power; that they may 
 be free by their just obedience, and the magistrates 
 honourable for their just administration : for 
 liberty without obedience is confusion, and obedi- 
 ence without liberty is slavery." 
 
 Having done every thing in his power to secure 
 his American territories, he now determined to 
 visit them. Knowing the uncertainty of life, be 
 addressed a farewell letter, with his last solemn 
 advice to his wife and children. This admirable 
 production, which cannot but be useful, by the 
 divine blessing, is presented to the reader. 
 
61 
 
 " My dear Wife and Ciiildren, 
 
 "My love, which neither sea, nor land, nor 
 death itself, can extinguish or lessen towards you, 
 most endearedly visits you with eternal embraces, 
 and will abide with you for ever: and may the 
 God of my life, watch over you, and do you good 
 in this world and for ever !— Some things are upon 
 my spirit to leave with you in your respective 
 capacities, as I am to one a husband, and to 
 another a father, if I should never see you more 
 in this world. 
 
 " My dear Wife ! remember thou wast the love 
 of my youth, and much the joy of my heart ; the 
 most beloved, as well as most worthy of all my 
 earthly comforts ; and the reason of that love was 
 more thy inward than thy outward excellencies, 
 which yet were many. God knows, and thou 
 knowest it, I can say it was a match of Provi- 
 dence's making; and God's image in us both 
 was the first thing, and the most amiable and 
 engaging ornament in our eyes. Now I am to 
 leave thee, and that without knowing whether 1 
 shall ever see thee more in this world, take my 
 counsel into thy bosom, and let it dwell with thee 
 in my stead while thou livcst. 
 
62 
 
 " First, — Let the fear of the Lord and a zeal 
 and love to his glory dwell richly in thy heart ; 
 and thou wilt watch for good over thyself and thy 
 dear children and family, that no rude, light, or 
 bad thing, be committed : else God will be 
 offended, and he will repent himself of the good 
 he intends thee and thine. 
 
 " Secondly, — Be diligent in meetings for worship 
 and business ; stir up thyself and others therein ; 
 it is thy duty and thy place : and let meetings be 
 kept once a day to wait upon the Lord, who has 
 given us much time for ourselves : and, my dear- 
 est, to make thy family matters easy unto thee, 
 divide thy time, and b,e regular : it is easy and 
 sweet: thy retirement will afford thee leisure to 
 do it ; as in the morning to view the business of the 
 house, and fix it as thou desirest, seeing all be in 
 order ; that by thy counsel, all may move, and to 
 thee render an account every evening. The time 
 for work, for walking, for meals, may be certain, 
 at least as near as may be : and grieve not thyself 
 with careless servants ; tliey will disorder thee ; 
 rather pay them, and let them go, if they will not 
 be better by admonitions : this is best to avoid 
 many words, which I know wound the soul, and 
 offend the Lord. 
 
63 
 
 " Thirdly,— Cast up thy incuiue and see what it 
 daily amounts to; by which thou mayest be sure 
 to have it in thy sight and power to keep within 
 compass: and I beseech thee live low and sparingly, 
 till my debts are paid ; and then enlarge as thou 
 seest it convenient. Remember thy mother's ex- 
 ample, when thy father's public-spiritedness had 
 worsted his estate, which is my case. I know 
 thou lovest plain things, and art averse to tiie 
 pomps of the world; a nobility natural to thee. 
 1 write not as doubtful, but to quicken thee, for 
 my sake, to be more diligent therein, knowing 
 that God will bless thy care, and thy poor children 
 and thee for it. My mind is wrapt up in a saying 
 of thy father's, • I desire not riches, but to owe 
 nothing ;' and truly that is wealth, and more than 
 enough to live is a snare attended with many 
 sorrows. I need not bid thee be bumble, for thou 
 art so, nor meek and patient, for it is much of 
 thy natural disposition ; but I pray thee to be oft 
 in retirement with the Lord, and guard against 
 encroaching friendships. Keep them at arm's end; 
 for it is giving away our power, aye, and self 
 too, into the possession of another ; and that which 
 might seem engaging in the beginning jnay prove 
 
64 
 
 a yoke too hard and heavy in the end. Wherefore 
 keep dominion over thyself, and let thy children, 
 good meetings, and friends, be the pleasures of thy 
 life. 
 
 " Fourthly, — And now, my dearest, let me re- 
 commend to thy care my dear children ; abaudantly 
 beloved of me, as the Lord's blessings, and the 
 sweet pledges of our mutual and endeared affection. 
 Above all things endeavour to breed them up in 
 the love of virtue, and that holy, plain way of it 
 which we have lived in, that the world in no part 
 of it get into my family. I had rather they were 
 homely than finely bred as to outward behaviour, 
 yet I love sweetness mixed with gravity, and 
 cheerfulness tempered with sobriety. Religion 
 in the heart leads into this true civility, teaching 
 men and women to be mild and courteous in their 
 behaviour, an accomplishment worthy indeed of 
 praise. 
 
 " Fifthly,— Next breed them up in a love one of 
 another : tell them it is the charge I left behind 
 me ; and that it is the way to have the love and 
 blessing of God upon them ; also what his portion 
 is who hates or calif* his brother, fool. Sometimes 
 separate them, but not long, and allow thein to 
 
send and give each other small things to endear 
 them one to another. Once more, I say, tell them 
 it was my counsel that they should be tender and 
 aflFectionate one to another. For their learning be 
 liberal. Spare no cost; for by such parsimony all 
 is lost that is saved : but let it be useful knowledge, 
 such as is consistent with truth and godliness, not 
 cherishing a vain conversation, or idle mind ; but 
 ingenuity mixed with industry is good for the body 
 and mind too. I recommend the useful part of ma 
 thematics, as building houses and ships, measuring, 
 surveying, dialling, navigation ; but agriculture is 
 especially in my eye ; let my children be husband- 
 men and housewives; these are callings industrious, 
 healthy, honest and of good example ; like Abraham 
 and the holy ancients, who pleased God and obtain- 
 ed a good report. This leads to consider the works of 
 God and nature, of things that are good, and diverts 
 the mind from being taken up with the vain arts and 
 inventions of a luxurious world. It is commenda- 
 ble with the Princes of Germany, and the nobles 
 of that empire, that they have all their children in- 
 structed in some useful occupation. Rather keep 
 an ingenious person in the house to teach them, 
 F 
 
66 
 
 than send them to schools, too many evil impres- 
 sions being commonly received there. Be sure to 
 observe their genius, and do not cross it as to learn- 
 ing ; let them not dwell too long on one thing ; but 
 let their change be agreeable, and all their diver- 
 sions have some little bodily labour in them. When 
 grown big, have most care for them ; for then 
 there are more snares for them both within and 
 without. When Baarriageable, see that they have 
 worthy persons in their eye, of good life, and good 
 fame for piety and understanding, I need no wealth, 
 but sufficiency ; and be sure their love be dear, fer- 
 vent, and mutual, that it may be happy for them. 
 1 choose not that they should be married to earthly, 
 covetous kindred ; and of cities and towns of con- 
 course beware ; the world is apt to stick close to 
 those who have lived and got wealth there; a 
 country life and estate I like best for my children. 
 1 prefer a decent mansion of a hundred pounds 
 [H;r annum, before ten thousand pounds in London, 
 or such like place, in the way of trade. In fine, 
 my dear, endeavour to breed them dutiful to the 
 Lord, and his blessed light, truth, and grace, in 
 their hearts, who is their Ciealor, and Lis fear will 
 
67 
 
 grow up with them. Teach a child the way thou 
 wilt have him to walk, and when he is old he will 
 not depart from it. Next, obedience to thee, their 
 dear mother ; and that not for wrath, but for con- 
 science sake ; be liberal to the poor, pitiful to the 
 miserable, humble and kind to aU; and may my 
 God make thee a blessing, and give thee comfort in 
 our dear children ; and in age gather thee to the 
 joy and blessedness of the just, where no death 
 shall separate us for ever ! 
 
 " And now, my dear children, that are the gifts 
 aud mercies of the God of your tender father, hear 
 my counsel, and lay it up in your hearts ; love it 
 more than treasure, and follow it, and you shall be 
 blessed here, and happy hereafter. 
 
 " In the first place, remember your Creator in the 
 days of your youth. It was the glory of Israel, 
 mentioned in the second of Jeremiah ; and how did 
 God bless Josiah because he feared him in his 
 youth ! and so he did Jacob, Joseph, and Moses. 
 O my dear children, remember, aud fear, and serve 
 him who made you, and gave you to me, and your 
 dear mother ; that you may live to him and glorify 
 him in your generations ! 
 
 F2 
 
68 
 
 "To do this in your youthful days, seek after ihc 
 Lord, that you may find him ; remembering his 
 great love in creating you ; that you are not beasts, 
 plants, or stones, but that he has kept you and 
 given you his grace within, and substance without, 
 and provided plentifully for you. Tliis remember 
 in your youth, that you may be kept from the evil 
 of this vForld ; for in age it will be harder to over- 
 come the temptations of it. 
 
 " Wherefore, my dear children, eschew the ap- 
 pearance of evil, and love, and cleave to that in 
 your hearts which shews you evil from good, and 
 tells you when you do amiss, and reproves you for 
 it. It is the light of Christ which he has given 
 you for his salvation. If you do this, and follow 
 my counsel, God will bless you in this world and 
 give you an inheritance in that which shall never 
 end. For the light of Jesus is of a purifying na- 
 ture ; it seasons those who love it and take heed to 
 it; and never leaves such till it has brought them to 
 the city of God, tiiat has foundations. O tliat ye 
 may be seasoned with the gracious nature of it 1 
 Hide it in your hearts, and flee, my dear children, 
 from all youthful lusts; the vain sports, pastimes, 
 
61) 
 
 and pleasures of Ihe world; redeeming the liiue, 
 because the days are evil f You are now beginning 
 to live. What would some give for your time ! 
 Oh ! I could have lived better, were I, as you, in 
 the flower of youth. Therefore, love and fear the 
 Lord, keep close to meetings, and delight to wait 
 on the Lord God of your father and mother, among 
 his despised people, as we have done ; and count it 
 your honour to be members of that Society, and 
 heirs of that living fellowship which is enjoyed 
 among them, for the experience of which your 
 father's soul blesseth the Lord for ever. 
 
 " Next, be obedient to your dear mother, a 
 woman whose virtue and good name is an honour 
 to you ; for she hath been exceeded by none in her 
 time for her plainness, integrity, industry, human- 
 ity, virtue, and good understanding ; excellencies 
 not usual among women of her worldly condition 
 aud quality. Therefore honour and obey her, niy 
 dear children, as your mother, and your father's 
 love and delight ; nay, love her too, for she loved 
 your father with a deep and upright love, choosing 
 him before all her many suitors ; and though she 
 be of a delicate constitution and noble spirit, yet 
 
70 
 
 slie descended to the utmost tenderness and care 
 for you, performing the most painful acts of service 
 to you in your infancy, as a mother and a nurse 
 too. I charge you, before the Lord, honour and 
 obey, love and cherish your dear mother. 
 
 " Next, betake yourselves to some honest, indus- 
 trious course of life, and that not of sordid covet- 
 ousness, but for example, and to avoid idleness. 
 And if you change your condition and marry, 
 choose, with the knowledge and fconsent of your 
 mother if living, or of guardians, or of those that 
 have the charge of you. Mind neither beauty nor 
 riches, but the fear of the Lord, and a sweet and 
 amiable disposition, such as you can love above all 
 this world, and that may make your habitations 
 pleasant, and desirable unto you. 
 
 "And being married, be tender, aflfectionate, 
 patient, and meek. Live in the fear of the Lord, 
 and he will bless you and your offspring. Be sure 
 to live within compass ; borrow not, neither be 
 beholden to any, ruin not yourselves by kindness to 
 others; for that exceeds the due bounds of friend- 
 ship, neither will a true friend expect it. Small 
 matters I heed not. 
 
71 
 
 ** Let your industry and parsimony go no tarilici 
 than for a sufficiency for life, and to make a provi- 
 sion for your children, and that in moderation, if 
 the Lord give you any. I charge you help the 
 poor and needy ; let the Lord have a voluntary 
 share of your income for the good of the poor, 
 both in our Society and others ; for we are ail his 
 creatures; remembering that, 'he that giveth to the 
 poor, lendeth to the Lord.' 
 
 " Know well your comings in, and your out-go- 
 ings may be better regulated, love not money nor 
 the world ; use them only, and they will serve 
 you ; but if you love them, you serve them, which 
 will debase your spirits, as well as olfend the 
 Lord. 
 
 " Pity the distressed, and hold out a hand of help 
 to them ; — it may be your case ; and as you mete to 
 others, God will mete to you again. 
 
 " Be humble and gentle in your conversation ; of 
 few words, I charge you; but always penitent 
 when you speak, hearing out before you attempt 
 to answer, and then speaking as if you would per- 
 suade not impose. 
 
 *' Affront none, neither revenge the affronts that 
 
72 
 
 are done fo you; but forgive, and jou shall be for- 
 given of your Heavenly Father. 
 
 " In making friends, consider well first ; and 
 when you are fixed be true, not wavering by reports, 
 nor deserting in affliction, for tiiat becomes not the 
 good and virtuous. 
 
 "Watch against anger, neither speak nor act iii 
 it; for like drunkenness, it makes a man a beast, 
 and throws people into desperate inconveniencies. 
 
 "Avoid flatterers, for they are thieves in dis- 
 guise, their praise is costly, designing to get by 
 those they bespeak ; they are the worst of creatures ; 
 Ihey lie to flatter; and flatter to cheat; and, which 
 is worse, if you believe them, you cheat yourselves 
 most dangerously. Butthe virtuous, though poor,love, 
 cherish, and prefer. Remember David, when ask- 
 ing the Lord, ' Who shall abide in thy Tabernacle ? 
 Who shall dwell upon thy holy hill?' Answer, 
 * He that walketh uprightly, worketh righteousness, 
 and speakcth the truth in his heart ; in whose eyes 
 the vile person is contemned ; but honoureth them 
 who fear the Lord.' 
 
 " Next, my children, be temperate in all things ; 
 in your diet, for that is physic by prevention ; it 
 
73 
 
 keeps, nay, it makes people healthy, aud their 
 {{eneratioii sound. This is exclusive of the spiritual 
 advantage it brings. Be also plain in your apparel; 
 keep out of that lust which reigns too much over 
 some ; let your virtues be your ornaments, remem- 
 bering 'life is more than food, and the body than 
 raiment,' let your furniture be simple and cheap. 
 Avoid avarice, and pride, and luxury. Read my 
 ' No Cross, no Crown,' There is instruction. — 
 Make your conversation with the most eminent for 
 wisdom and piety ; and shun all wicked men as 
 you hope for tlie blessing of God, and the comfort 
 of your father's living and dying prayers. Be sure 
 you speak no evil of any, no not of the meanest ; 
 much less of your superiors, as magistrates, guar- 
 dians, tutors, teachers, and elders in Christ. 
 
 " Be no busy-bodies ; meddle not with other 
 folks' matters, but when in conscience and duty 
 pressed ; for it procures trouble, and is ill manners, 
 and very unseemly to wise men. 
 
 " In your families remember Abraham, Moses, 
 and Joshua, their integrity to the Lord ; and take 
 them for your examples. 
 
 " Ijet the fear and service of the Living God bo 
 
74 
 
 encouraged ia your houses, and that plainness, 
 sobriety, and moderation in all things, as becometh 
 God's chosen people ; and as I advise you, my 
 beloved children, do you counsel yours, if God 
 should give you any. Yea, I counsel and command 
 them, as my posterity, that they love and serve the 
 Lord God with an upright heart, that he may bless 
 you and yours from generation to generation. 
 
 " And as for you, who are likely to be concerned 
 in the government of Pennsylvania, and my parts of 
 East Jersey, — especially, the first, I do charge you 
 before the Lord God and his holy angels, that you 
 be lowly, diligent, and tender, fearing God, loving 
 the people, and hating covetousness. Let justice 
 have its impartial course, and the law free passage. 
 Though to your loss, protect no man against it ; for 
 you are not above the law, but the law above you. 
 Live therefore the lives yourselves, you would have 
 the people live, and then you have the right and 
 boldness to punish the transgressor. Keep upon 
 the square, for God sees you : therefore, do your 
 duty, and be sure you see with your own eyes, and 
 hear with your own ears. Entertain no lurchers, 
 cherish no informers, for gain or revenge ; use no 
 
75 
 
 tricks ; fly to no devices to support, or cover injus- 
 tice ; but let y our hearts be upright before the Lord, 
 trusting in him above the contrivances of men, 
 and none shall be able to hurt or supplant. 
 
 " Oh ! the Lord is a strong God, and he can do 
 whatsoever he pleases; and though men consider it 
 not, it is the Lord that rules and over-rules in the 
 kingdoms of men, and he builds up and pulls down. 
 I, yonr father, am the man that can say, ' He that 
 trusts in the Lord shall not be confounded.' But 
 God, in due time, will make his enemies be at peace 
 with him. 
 
 " If you thus behave yourselves, and so become 
 * a terror to evil-doers and a praise to them that do 
 well,' God, my God, will be with you, in imparting 
 to you wisdom and a sound mind, and make you 
 blessed instruments in his hand for the settlement 
 of some of those desolate parts of the world, which 
 my soul desires above all worldly honours and riches, 
 both for you that go, and you that stay ; you that 
 govern, and you that are governed ; that in the end 
 you may be gathered with me to the rest of God. 
 
 " Finally, my children, love one another with a 
 true, endeared love, and your dear relations on both 
 
76 
 
 sides, aud take care to preserve tender aflfectiou in 
 jour children to each other; often marrying within 
 themselves, so as it be without the bounds forbid- 
 den in God's law, that so lliey may not, like the 
 forgetting, unnatural world, grow out of kindred, 
 aud as cold as strangers; but become as a truly 
 natural and Christian stock, you and yours, may 
 live in the pure and fervent love of Go<l towards 
 one another, as becometh brethren in the spiritual 
 and natural relation. 
 
 " So, my God, that hath blessed me with his 
 abundant mercies, both of this and of the other and 
 better life, be with you all, guide you by his coun- 
 sel, bless you, aud bring you to his eternal glory ! 
 that you may shine, my dear children, in the 
 tirniamentof God's power with the blessed spirits 
 of the just, that celestial family, praising and 
 admiring him, the God and Father of it for ever. 
 For there is no God like unto him ; the God of 
 Isaac and of Jacob, the Gotl of the Prophets, the 
 Apostles, and matyrs of Jesus, in w hom I live for 
 ever. 
 
 " So farewell to niy thrice dearly beloved wile 
 and children. 
 
77 
 
 Yonrs, as God pleasetli, in that love which no 
 waters can quench, no time forget, nor distance 
 near away, but remain? for ever, 
 
 William Penn." 
 Warminghurst, 4th of Gth Month, 1682. 
 
 After taking an affectionate leave of his wife 
 and children, he embarked at Deal, on board tiie 
 ship " Welcome," with about a hundred passengers. 
 Tiiey had not been long at sea, before the small 
 pox broke out among them ; by his personal attend 
 ance, and spiritual advice, he rendered the sick all 
 the aid in his power. Thirty of the company died 
 of this disorder. 
 
 " Within six weeks from his leaving the Downs, 
 he was in sight of the American coast, and in the 
 Delaware river. The settlers of every description 
 received him with the greatest demonstrations of 
 ioy. 
 
 Having made a variety of salutary regulations, ho 
 determined to confirm his treaty with the Indians. 
 He did not think his title to the land which had 
 been ceded to him complete, till he had gained 
 (heir consent. An immense number of them assem- 
 
78 
 
 bled, who were seen in the woods as far as the eye 
 could reach, they appeared formidable on account 
 of their numbers and their arms. They met at 
 ShackamaxoD, beneath an elm tree of great mag- 
 nitude. Under the widely spreading branches of 
 this tree, the principal persons on both sides took 
 their stand. William Penn was distinguished only 
 by wearing a sky-blue sash around his waist, made 
 of silk net-work. On a given. signal, the Indians 
 seated themselves in the form of a half-moon around 
 their leaders. William Penn, then addressed them, 
 through the medium of an interpreter, in the fol- 
 lowing manner ; — 
 
 " The Great Spirit," he said, " who made him 
 and them, who ruled the heavens and the earth, 
 and who knew the innermost thoughts of man, 
 knew that he and his friends had a hearty desire 
 to live in peace and friendship with them, and 
 to serve them to the utmost of their power. It was 
 not their custom to use hostile weapons, against 
 their fellow-creatures, for which reason they had 
 come unarmed. Their object was not to do injury, 
 and thus provoke the Great Spirit, but to do good. 
 They were then met on the broad pathway of good 
 faith and good-will, so that no advantage was to be 
 
79 
 
 taken on either side, but all was to be openness, 
 brotherhood, and love." After these and other words, 
 he unrolled the parchment, and conveyed to them 
 the conditions of the purchase, and the words of the 
 compact for their lasting union. Among other 
 things, they were not to be molested in their lawful 
 pursuits, even in the territory they had sold, for it 
 was to be common to them and the English. If 
 any disputes should arise, they should be settled by 
 a jury of six English persons, and six Indians. 
 He then paid them for the land, and made them 
 many presents of European merchandize. They 
 pledged themselves to live in love and peace with 
 W. Penn, so long as the sun and moon should 
 endure. Voltaire remarks, " This was the only 
 treaty which was not ratified by an oath, and that 
 was never broken." 
 
 The friendship into which VV. Penn had entered 
 with the Indians was never interrupted for more 
 than seventy years, during the whole of the time 
 the Friends retained tlic power of government. 
 " Indeed his conduct towards them was so engag- 
 ing, and his ju!>tice so conspicuous, that he became 
 very much endeared to them ; and such a deep im- 
 
80 
 
 pression of his benignity was made on iheir nnder- 
 standings, that his name and memory will scarcely 
 ever be effaced while tliey continue a people. 
 
 The elm tree, under which this celebrated treaty 
 was made, was held in much veneration. In the 
 American war, when fire-wood was much wanted 
 by the British army, General Simcoe placed a sen- 
 tinel under it, that not a branch of it might be in- 
 jured. When, at last, it was blown down by a 
 tempest, it was transformed into cups, and other 
 articles, to be kept as memorials to future genera- 
 tions. 
 
 Col. Markham had chosen a beautiful spot on 
 which he was erecting a mansion for his noble 
 relative. W. Penn went to view it, and gave it 
 the name of Pennsbury. Afterwards he chose a 
 spot for his new city, between the rivers Skuylkill 
 and Delaware. From the junction of these two 
 great navigable rivers, he justly thought the situa- 
 tion exceedingly advantageous for commerce ; and 
 as there were immense quarries of stone in the 
 neighbourhood, he regarded this circumstance of 
 course, as affording great facilities for building. 
 
 The following is an extract from one of his letters 
 
81 
 
 whilst he was engaged in these great works; "I 
 bless the Lord, I am very well, and much satisfied 
 with my place and portion ; yet busy enough 
 having mnch to do to please all, and yet to have 
 an eye to those that arc not here to please themselves. 
 
 " I am now casting the country into townships 
 for large lots of land. I have held an assembly, ia 
 which many good laws have been passed. We 
 could not stay safely till the spring for a government. 
 I have annexed the Territories lately obtained to 
 the Province, and passed a general naturalization 
 for strangers, whicli has much pleased the people. 
 
 As to outward things, we are satisfied ; the 
 land is good, the air clear and sweet, the springs 
 plentiful, and provision good and easy to come at; 
 an innumerable quantity of wild fowl and fish ; in 
 fine, here is what an Abraham, Isaac, or Jacob 
 would be well contented with ; and service enough 
 for God, for the fields are here white unto the har- 
 vest. O how sweet is the quiet of these parts, freed 
 from the anxious and troublesome solicitations, 
 hurries, and perplexities of woeful Europe." 
 
 In the course of the year after the arrival of 
 W. Penn, twenty-three vessels sailed from Great 
 G 
 
82 
 
 Britain, witli more thau two thousand emigrants. 
 Tiie population of his colony now amounted to 
 nearly six thousand persons. Those who came at 
 the end of the year, were but ill provided for the 
 winter; and suflFered much from the insuihciency 
 of their habitations to shelter them from the in- 
 clemency of the season. Their provisions were 
 sometimes but scanty ; yet the wild pigeons, which 
 were in such great numbers, that the air was 
 darkened by them, were of the greatest service to 
 the settlers; the Indians also, did their utmost 
 for their support, as ever since the Treaty, they 
 regarded them as the children of William Penn, 
 and as their brothers. 
 
 Hearing that his friends were still shamefully 
 persecuted in England, he determined to return 
 home to intercede with the court for their relief. 
 He had made treaties of amity with nineteea 
 diflerent tribes of Indians ; he had expended several 
 thousand pounds to instruct, support, and oblige 
 them ; he had established twenty townships in his 
 dominions ; and he now made arrangements to 
 vi^it his native land. He left Philadelphia in ihc 
 eighth mouth of the year 1684, to the deep regret 
 
83 
 
 of all classes of society; and landed in England, 
 after a voyage of about seven weeks. His enemies, 
 during his absence, had brought a variety ot 
 charges against him, but as there was no ground 
 for them, they were readily refuted. One of these 
 was, that he had given his sanction to some mili- 
 tary proceedings ; to which he replied, " That 
 there was an old timber-house at Newcastle, stand- 
 ing upon a green, on which lay seven old iron 
 small cannon, some on the groand, and others on 
 broken carriages; but there was neither a military 
 man, nor powder, nor bullet, belonging to them ; 
 and that they were the property of the government 
 of New York." Another charge was, that he had 
 made the settlement a matter of gain; to which 
 he replied, " That he had hazarded his life, and 
 maintained both the Government and the Governor 
 for four years past. That he would have been a 
 gainer if he had given the land. That he had 
 bought ground on which a part of Philadelphia 
 stood, of the Swedes, which had enabled him to 
 add eiglit Imndred acres to the city, and a mile on 
 a navigable liver; all \\hich he had freely given to 
 the public." Who can expect to escape slander and 
 
 G 2 
 
84 
 
 calumny? This most upright and generous indi- 
 vidual could not do it. 
 
 Charles II. died soon after the return of W. Penn, 
 and his brother James II. quietly succeeded to the 
 crown. The new monarch much respectedW. Penn, 
 not only from the esteem he cherished for his 
 father, but also for his own sake. He was, there- 
 fore, often at the palace; though he was not a 
 little reproached on this account, as a concealed 
 Catholic and Jesuit ; yet there is abundant reason 
 to conclude that he employed all his influence 
 with the king to do good, and especially for the 
 benefit of the persecuted of his brethren, who 
 were still shamefully suffering under the iron hand 
 of oppression. He pleaded hard, as he had always 
 done, for an entire toleration. " In our own time," 
 said he, " we see the effects of a discreet indul- 
 gence, even to emulation. Holland has become 
 the rival of the tallest monarchies, not by con- 
 quests, marriages, or accession of royal blood, the 
 usual ways to empire, but by her own superlative 
 clemency and industry; for tiie one was the 
 effect of the other; she clierished her people, what- 
 ever were their opinions, as the reasonable "rtock 
 
85 
 
 of the country, the head3 and hands of her trade 
 and wealth ; and, making them easy in tlie main 
 point, their consciences, she became great by them. 
 This made her fill with people, and they filled 
 her in return with riches and strength." He 
 shewed by plain examples, that it is the union of 
 interests, and not of opinions, that gives peace 
 to kingdoms. 
 
 Soon after James came to the crown, he issued 
 a proclamation for the liberation of those who 
 were in prison for conscience sake. Not less than 
 twelve-hundred persons of the Society of Friends 
 alone, were restored to their homes and families, 
 some of whom had been in confinement for years. 
 There is reason to believe that William Penn's 
 conferences with the king, were greatly instrumen- 
 tal in producing this beneficial result. 
 
 His government in America, soon fell into dis- 
 order after he left the country. Nor could he get 
 his quit-rents remitted to him. These were of the 
 value of five hundred pounds per annum ; but not 
 a farthing came to his hand : " God is my witness," 
 says he, "I lie not; I am above six thousand pounds 
 out of pocket, more than ever I saw by the pro- 
 
86 
 
 vince ; in addition to my pains, cares, and hazard 
 of life, and leaving my family and friends to serve 
 them." Indeed, be began to be embarrassed on 
 account of the remittances bein^ viithheld from 
 America. He mentioned thi- as one reason which 
 kept him from Pennsylvania. " I will not," said 
 he, " spend my private estate to discharge a public 
 station." 
 
 lo the summer of 1687, be took a preaching tonr 
 through several of the coanties of England. The 
 King happening to be at Chester at the same time, 
 went to hear him preach. He also did so at several 
 other places. 
 
 In consequence of his frequent visits to the King, 
 he became exceedingly unpopular. The old cry, 
 that he was a Roman Catholic, was raised against 
 him, and very commonly believed. So that in the 
 present year 1688, when the Prince of Orange had 
 seized the helm of government, he was arrested, 
 and brought before the Lords of the Council. In 
 reply to some questions which they addressed to 
 him, be protested, that he "had done nothing but 
 what he could answer before (Jod, and all the 
 princes in the world ; that he loved his country, 
 and tlie Prote«tant religion above his life, and had 
 
87 
 
 never acted against either; that all he bad ever 
 aimed at in his public endeavours 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 friend, and did ever, as much as in 
 him lay, influence him to his true interest." Though 
 the Council had no evidence against him, they 
 made him give security for his appearance the first 
 day of the next term. He appeared accordingly, 
 but as nothing was even surmised against him, he 
 was discharged. 
 
 In 1689, tlie great measure, an act of Toleration, 
 which he had been labouring and writing all his 
 life to effect, became the law of the land. One of 
 the Bishops then said, that, "it seemed to be suit- 
 able to the Christian religion, and to the interests of 
 the nation. It was thought very unreasonable, that 
 while we were complaining of the church of Rome, 
 we should fall into such practices among ourselves." 
 W. Penn had often asserted this, and much more 
 to the same effect, and yet he could not be heard ; 
 (hough the liberty, treasure, and blood of thousands 
 and of tens of thousands would then Iiave been 
 preserved. 
 
88 
 
 He was ueveir anmiadful of bis Colony in Ame- 
 rica. Though he was displeased with the differences 
 of some of the principal friends whom he had left 
 at the helm of affairs, 3'et he was warmly attached 
 to their best interests. " Europe," says he, in a 
 letter to them at this time, " looks like a sea of 
 trouble. Wars are like to be all over it this 
 summer. I strongly desire to see yoa before it is 
 spent, if the Lord will ; and I can say in his sight, 
 that to improve my interest with King James, on 
 behalf of tender consciences, and that a Christian 
 liberty might be legally settled, though against my 
 own interest, was that which has chiefly separated 
 me from yon. If it be with you, as I can say in 
 the presence of God, it is with me, then are we 
 one with him; for neither length of days, nor 
 distance of place, nor all the many waters between 
 ns, can separate my heart and affection from you. 
 
 "And now. Friends, I have a word more for 
 you ; that faith, hope, and charity are the great 
 helps and marks of real Christians ; but above all 
 love, is the love of God. Blessed are they who 
 come to it, who hold the li ulh in it, and work and 
 act in it; for they, though poor in their own, are 
 
89 
 
 yet rich in God's Spirit ; though they are meek, 
 they inherit. 
 
 " This temper will preserve peace in the church, 
 peace in the state, peace in families, peace in par- 
 ticular bosoms. I beseech God Almighty, to draw 
 all your hearts into this heavenly love more and 
 more, so that the fruit of it may appear increa- 
 singly to his glory and your comfort." 
 
 The late King having written to him, and the 
 letter being intercepted, he was summoned before 
 the King and Council. Having been asked why 
 the deposed monarch had written to him ? he 
 replied, " That it was impossible he could prevent 
 his doing so ; he supposed, that he wished to en- 
 gage his interest for his restoration ; but though 
 he could not avoid the suspicion of aiding him iu 
 such an attempt, he could avoid the guilt of it." 
 He acknowledged that he had loved King James ; 
 and that as he had loved him in his prosperity, 
 he could not hate him in his adversity. He said, 
 that he felt it a duty to observe inviolably that 
 regard for the State, which all its subjects ought 
 to feel; and, therefore, that he never had the 
 guilt even to think of endeavouring to restore to 
 the fallen monarch the crown which he bad lost. 
 
The King was so convinced of iiis innocence, that 
 he wished to dismiss him without farther trouble ; 
 but some of the Council interposed, and he was 
 ordered to give bail for his appearance the next 
 term. He accordingly came forward at the time 
 appointed, and was once more discharged. He 
 had not been long at liberty, before he was again 
 arrested, and committed to prison. Still, as there 
 was no evidence which conld substantiate any 
 thing against him of an improper nature, he was 
 set at large. 
 
 Just as he was on the eve of his departure for 
 America, a wretch of the name of Fuller, whom 
 the Parliament afterwards declared " a cheat and 
 impostor," accused him, on oath, of treasonable 
 practices, so that he was unable to leave the king- 
 dom. A letter he wrote to one of his friends in 
 his new Settlement, contains the following inter- 
 esting passage. *' By this time thou wilt have 
 heard of my troubles, the only hindrance of my 
 return, being in the midst of my preparations, 
 with a great company of adventurers, when they 
 came upon me. The jealousies of some, an<l the 
 unworthy dealings of others, have made way for 
 Ihem; but under and over it all, the ancient Rock 
 
iias been my slielter and comfort ; and I hope yet 
 to see yoiir faces with onr ancient satisfaction. 
 Tlie Lord grant it, if it be for his glory, wliose 
 I desire to be in all conditions; for this world 
 passeth away, and the beauty of it fadeth ; bnt 
 there are eternal habitations for the faithful ; 
 among whom I pray that my lot may be, rather 
 than among the princes of the earth. 
 
 " The wise God, who can do what he pleases, 
 as well as see what is in man's heart, is able to 
 requite all ; and I am persuaded all yet shall work 
 together for good in this very thing, if we can 
 overlook all that stands in the way of our views 
 God-ward in public matters. See that all be done 
 prudently and humbly, and keep down irreverence 
 and looseness, aud cherish industry and sobriety. 
 God Almighty be with you, and amongst yon, to 
 his praise, and to your peace!" 
 
 A proclamation having been issued for his arrest, 
 he now took a very private lodging in London, 
 and lived in great retirement, that his health 
 migiit not be sacrificed by his being immured in a 
 prison. He had been here but little more than six 
 weeks, when a second proclamation was issued for 
 his apprehension. Almost all classes reproache<i 
 
92 
 
 him. Even many of the Society of Friends thought 
 very hardly of him. Mr. Locke visited him, and 
 kindly offered to procure the pardon of King 
 William. This he declined, as he said, that he 
 had been guilty of no crime, and needed no par- 
 don. In his retirement he wrote a preface to 
 " Barclay's Apology," and endeavoured in various 
 ways, to employ himself nsefully. 
 
 In 1693, king William was induced, by evil ad- 
 visers, to deprive him of the government of his 
 lands in America. This was a most painful stroke 
 to him. The fortune which he had expended seem- 
 ed to be absolutely lost. His wife was exceedingly 
 depressed by the trials and difficulties in which her 
 husband was involved. He was the subject of great 
 reproach, and a false accusation was banging over 
 his head, in consequence of which he might every 
 hour expect to be arrested, and sent to prison. In 
 these painful circumstances he could only look up 
 to God for deliverance. He knew that none who 
 put their trust in him were ultimately forsaken. In 
 this time of trouble, he wrote his admirable little 
 Book, entitled, " Reflections and Maxims relating 
 to the conduct of Human Life." He also composed 
 " An Essay on the Peace of Europe," in which he 
 
93 
 
 proposed instead of war, a general Diet for tiie 
 settlement of differences. 
 
 He was this year happily released from his re- 
 tirement by the interposition of friends. " They 
 represented his case to king William, not only as 
 hard, but as oppressive. There was nothing, they 
 said, against him, but what impostors, or such as 
 had fled their country had advanced ; or such as, 
 when they had been pardoned for their crimes, 
 they had refused to verify. They affirmed, that 
 some of them had known him thirty years, and 
 they had never known him do an ill thing ; but, on 
 the contrary, many good offices." King William 
 candidly acknowledged, that he had nothing against 
 him, and that he should be at perfect liberty. 
 
 This intelligence was, in the highest degree grati- 
 fying to his wife, whose case had now become 
 hopeless. In about a month after the acquittal of 
 her husband she expired with a hope full of im- 
 mortality. The following are some of the excellent 
 sentiments which dropped from her lips in her last 
 illness : — 
 
 At one of the many meetings which her hus- 
 band and her children held in her chamber, she 
 said, " Let us all prepare, not knowing what hour 
 
94 
 
 or watch the Lord cometh. I have cast my care 
 upon the Lord. He is the physician of value. My 
 expectation is wholly from him. He can cast 
 down, and he can raise up." 
 
 She was but fifty years of age. A friend who 
 was sixty-five coming to visit her, she said, " How 
 much older has the Lord made me by this weak- 
 ness than thou art ! But I am contented. I do not 
 murmur. I submit to his holy will." 
 
 When very weak she one day called the children, 
 and said, Don't be alarmed ; I do not call you to 
 take my leave of you, but to see you ; and I would 
 have you walk in the fear of the Lord, and with 
 his people, in his holy truth." 
 
 About three hours before she expired, she said, 
 " I have cast my care upon the Lord ; my dear 
 love to all Friends;" and, lifting up her dying 
 hands and eyes, she prayed the Lord to preserve 
 and bless them. 
 
 "She quietly expired in my arms," says Win. 
 Penn, " with a sensible and devout resignation of 
 her soul to Almighty God. I hope I may say, she 
 was a public as well as a private loss ; for she was 
 not only an excellent wife and mother, but an en- 
 tire and constant friend, of a more than common 
 
capacity, aud greater modesty and humility : yet 
 most equal, and undaunted in danger; religious, 
 withont atfectation; an easy mistress, and gootl 
 neighbour, especially to the poor; neither lavish, 
 nor penurious ; but an example of industry, as well 
 as of other virtues ; therefore, our great loss, though 
 her eternal gain." 
 
 This year, 1694, he was restored by king William 
 to the government of his American possessions, and 
 in very handsome terms. About this time, Thomas 
 Lloyd, whom he had left President of his Council 
 in Pensylvania, died. He appears to have been a 
 very upright and excellent individual. After an 
 illness of six days, he expired with great tranquil- 
 ity. His last words were, " I die in unity and 
 love with all faithful Friends. I have fought a good 
 fight. I have kept the faith, which stands not in 
 the wisdom of words, but in the power of God. I 
 have sought, not for strife and contention, but for 
 the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the simpli- 
 city of the Gospel. I lay down my head in peace, 
 and desire you may all <lo so. Farewell." 
 
 In 16i)6, he again entered into the marriage 
 state. His second wife was Hannah, daughter of 
 Thomas Callowhill, an eminent merchant of the 
 
96 
 
 city of Bristol. Only a few weeks elapsed, after 
 this settlement before he lost his eldest son, Sprin- 
 gett Penn. He appears to have been a most amia- 
 ble youth, of great attainments. He was in the 
 bloom of life, having just entered into the twenty 
 first year of his age. 
 
 His father had regularly attended him in his afflic- 
 tion, for the three months previous to his marriage. 
 He now resumed his most affectronate visitations. 
 The young man had indeed been trained up in " the 
 nurture and admonition of the Lord." This was 
 very evident, as the power of religion was richly 
 felt on his mind and heart. 
 
 The following narrative is selected from the inter- 
 esting account which his father gives of this most 
 lovely and promising young man. " My very dear 
 child, and eldest son," says he, " did from his 
 childhood manifest a disposition to goodness, and 
 gave me hope, of a more than ordinary capacity ; 
 and time satisfied me in both these respects. For, 
 besides, a good share of learning and mathematical 
 knowledge, he showed a judgment in the use and 
 application of it much above his years. He had 
 the seeds of many good qualities rising in him, that 
 made him beloved, and consequently lamented ; but 
 
97 
 
 especially bis liumility, plainness, and truth ; with 
 a tenderness and softness of nature, which, if I 
 may say it, were an improvement upon his other 
 good qualities. But though these were no security 
 against sickness and death, yet they went a good 
 way to facilitate a due preparation for them. For 
 more than half a year before it pleased the Lord to 
 visit him with weakness, he grew more retired, and 
 much disengaged from youthful delights ; showing 
 a remarkable tenderness at religious meetings, even 
 when they were silent; but when he saw himself 
 doubtful as to his recovery, he turned his mind and 
 meditations more apparently towards the Lord ; 
 secretly, as also, when his attendants were in the 
 room, praying often with great fervency to him, 
 and uttering very many thankful expressions and 
 praises to him, in a very deep and sensible manner. 
 One day he said to us, 'I am resigned to what 
 God pleaseth. He knows what is best. I would 
 live, if it pleased him, that I might serve him ; but, 
 O Lord, not my will, but thine be done !' 
 
 "A person speaking to him of the things of this 
 world, and what might please him when recovered, 
 he answered, * My eyes look another way, where 
 the truest pleasure is.' When he told nie he had 
 H 
 
98 
 
 rested well, and I said, it was a mercy to him, he 
 quietly replied with a serious yet sweet look, ' All 
 is mercy, dear father; every thing is mercy.* 
 Another time, when I went to meeting, at my 
 parting with him he said, ' Remember me, my dear 
 father, before the Lord. Though I cannot go to 
 meetings, yet 1 have many good meetings. The 
 Lord comes in upon my spirit, I have heavenly 
 meetings with him by myself.' 
 
 " Not many days before he died, the Lord 
 appearing by his holy power upon his spirit, when 
 alone, at my return, asking him how he did, he 
 told me, ' O, I have had a sweet time, a blessed 
 time ! great enjoyments ! The power of the Lord 
 overcame my soul ; a sweet time indeed !' 
 
 " And telling him, how some of the gentry, who 
 had been to visit him, were gone to their games, 
 and sports, and pleasures, and how little considera- 
 tion the children of men had of God and of their 
 latter end, and how much happier he was in this 
 weakness to have been otherwise educated, and 
 preserved from those temptations to vanity, he 
 answered, ' It is all folly, my dear father : it is sad 
 folly. O that I might live to tell them so' — well 
 my dear child, I replied, let this be the time of thy 
 
99 
 
 entering into secret covenant with God, that, if he 
 raise thee, thou wilt dedicate thy youth, strength, 
 and life to him and his people and service. He 
 returned, ' Father, that is not now to do, it is not 
 now to do with great tenderness upon his spirit. 
 
 "Being almost ever near him and doing any 
 thing he wanted or desired, he broke out with 
 much sense and love, ' My dear father, if I live, I 
 will make thee amends and speaking to him of 
 divine enjoyments, that the eye of man saw not, 
 but the soul made alive by the spirit of Christ 
 plainly felt, he, in a lively remembrance, cried 
 out, ' O I had a sweet time yesterday by myself! 
 The Lord hath preserved me unto this day. Blessed 
 be his name ! My soul praises him for his mercy. 
 O father, it is of the goodness of the Lord that I 
 am so well as I am.' Fixing his eyes, upon his 
 sister, he took her by the hand saying, ' Poor Tishe, 
 look to good things ! Poor, child, there is no 
 comfort without it 1 One drop of the love of God 
 is worth more than all the world, I know it. I 
 have tasted it. I have felt as much or more of the 
 love of God in this weakness, than in all my life 
 before.' At another time, as I stood by him, he 
 looked upon mc and said, ' Dear father, sit by me ! 
 H 2 
 
100 
 
 I love thy company, and I know thou lovest mine ; 
 and, if it be the Lord's will that we must part, be 
 not troubled, for that will trouble rae.' 
 
 " Taking something one night in bed just before 
 his going to rest, he sat up and frequently prayed 
 thus ; ' O Lord God ! Thou whose Son said to 
 bis disciples, whatever you ask in my name yon 
 shall receive, I pray thee in his name bless me 
 this night, and give me rest, if it be thy blessed 
 will !' And accordingly, he had a very comfort- 
 able night, of which he took a very thankful 
 notice before us the next day. 
 
 "And when he at one time more than ordinarily 
 expressed a desire to live, and entreated me to 
 pray for him, he added, 'And, dear father, if the 
 Lord should raise me to serve him and his people, 
 then I might travel with thee sometimes and we 
 might ease one another,' — (meaning in the minis- 
 try.) He spoke this with great modesty; upon 
 which I said to him, My dear child, if it will 
 please the Lord to raise thee I am satisfied it will 
 be so; and if not, then, inasmuch as it is thy 
 fervent desire in the Lord he will look upon thee 
 just as if thou didst live to serve him, and thy 
 comfort will be the same. So either way it will 
 
101 
 
 be well : for if thou sliouldst not live I do verily 
 believe thou wilt have the recompense of thy good 
 desires, without the temptations and troubles that 
 would attend if long life were granted thee. 
 
 " Saying one day thus ; • I am resolved I will 
 have such a thing done,' he immediately corrected 
 himself, and fell into this reflection with much 
 contrition, — * Did I say, I will ? O Lord forgive 
 me that irreverent and hasty expression ! I am a 
 poor creature, and live by Thee, and therefore I 
 should have said. If it pleaseth Thee that I live, I 
 intend to do so ; Lord, forgive my rash expres- 
 sion !' 
 
 " Seeing my present wife ready to be helpful, 
 and to do anything for him, he turned to her and 
 said, ' Do not, thou do so. Let them do it. Don't 
 trouble thyself so much for such a poor creature as 
 I am.' And taking leave of him a few nights before 
 his end, he said to her, ' Pray for me, dear mother ! 
 Thou art good and innocent. It may be the Lord 
 may hear thy prayers for me; for I desire my 
 strength again, that I may live and employ it 
 more in his service.' 
 
 " Two or three days before his departure he 
 called his brother to him, and, looking awfully 
 
102 
 
 upon him, said, ' Be a good boy, aud know that 
 there is a Great God, a great and mighty God, 
 who is a rewarder of the righteous, and so he is of 
 the wicked ; but their rewards are not the same. 
 Have a care of idle people and idle company, and 
 love good company and good friends, and the Lord 
 will bless thee. I have seen good things for thee 
 since my sickness, if thou dost but fear the Lord ; 
 and if I shoald not live, (though' the Lord is all- 
 sufficient) remember what say I to thee, when I am 
 dead and gone. Poor child, the Lord bless thee ! 
 Come and kiss me!' which melted ns all into 
 tenderness, but his brother more particularly. 
 
 " Many good exhortations he gave to some of 
 the servants, and others that came to see him, who 
 ■were not of our communion, as well as to those 
 who were, which drew tears from their eyes. 
 
 " The day but one before he died, he went to 
 take the air in the coach, but said at his return, 
 ' Really, father, I am exceedingly weak. Thou 
 canst not think how weak I am.' — My dear child, 
 I replied, thou art weak, but God is strong, who 
 is the strength of thy life !— * Aye, that is it,' said 
 he, ' which upholdeth me.' Aud the day before 
 he departed, being alone with him, be desired me 
 
103 
 
 to fasten the door, and looking earuestly upon me, 
 said, 'Dear father! thou art a dear father; and 
 I know thy Father. Come, let us have a little 
 meeting, a private ejaculation together, now no- 
 body else is here. O my soul is sensible of the 
 love of God!' And indeed a sweet time we had. 
 It was like to precious ointment for his burial. 
 
 " He desired, if he were not to live, that he 
 might go home to die there, and we had made 
 preparation for it, being twenty miles from my 
 house ; and so much stronger was his spirit than 
 his body, that he spoke of going next day, which 
 was the morning he departed, and a symptom it 
 was of his greater journey to his longer home. 
 The morning he left us, growing more and more 
 sensible of his extreme weakness, he asked me, as 
 doubtful of himself, • How shall I go home V I 
 told him, in a coach. He answered, ' I am best 
 in a coach ; but observing his decay, I said, Why 
 child, thou art at home every where. ' Aye,' said 
 he, ' so I am in the Lord.' I took that opportunity 
 to ask him if I should remember his love to his 
 friends at Bristol and London. ' Yes, yes,' said 
 he, ' my love in the Lord, my love to all friends 
 in the Lord and relations too.' He said, ' Aye, to 
 
104 
 
 be snre.' Being asked if he would have bis ass's 
 milk, or eat any thing, he answered, • No more 
 outward food, but heavenly food is provided for 
 me.' 
 
 "His time drawing on apace, he said to me, 
 ' My dear father, kiss me ! Thou art a dear father. 
 I desire to praise thee. How can I make thee 
 amends V 
 
 " He also called his sister, and said to her, 
 ' Poor child, come and kiss me !' between whom 
 there seemed a tender and long parting. I sent 
 for his brother, that he might kiss him too ; which 
 he did. All were in tears about him. Then turn- 
 ing his head to me, he said softly, ' Dear father .' 
 hast thou no hope for me?' I answered, ' My dear 
 child ! I am afraid to hope, and I dare not despair, 
 but am and have been resigned, though one of the 
 hardest lessons I have ever learned.' He paused a 
 while, and with a composed frame of mind said, 
 ' Come life, come death, I am resigned.' Feeling 
 himself decline apace, and seeing him not able to 
 bring up the matter that was in his throat, some- 
 body fetched the Doctor, but as soon as he came in 
 he said, * Let my father speak to the Doctor, and 
 I'll go to sleep ; ' which be did, and waked no 
 
105 
 
 more ; breathing his last upon my breast the tenth 
 (lay of the second month, between tlie hours of 
 nine and ten in the morning of lG9(i, in his one and 
 twentieth year. 
 
 " So ended the life of my dear child, and eldest 
 son, much of my comfort and hope, and one of the 
 most tender and dutiful, as well as ingenious and 
 virtuous youths I knew, if I may say so, of my 
 own dear child ; in whom I lost all that a father 
 could lose in a child, since he was capable of any 
 thing that became a sober young man, my friend 
 and companion, as well as my most affectionate 
 and dutiful child. 
 
 " May this loss and end have its due weight and 
 impression on all his relations and friends and upon 
 those to whose bands this account may come, for 
 their remembrance, and preparation for their great 
 and last change, and I haNC my end in making my 
 dear child thus far public." 
 
 In the year 1796, Peter the Great, as he was 
 afterwards called, paid a visit to this country. He 
 worked as a common labourer in the king's dock- 
 yard at Deptford, that he might make himself 
 practically acquainted with ship building. He 
 renlcd a mansion in York buildings, in which 
 
106 
 
 Priuce Menzikoflf resided, to accompany him when 
 he went to court, or visited the nobility. William 
 Penn had a great desire to see him ; accompanied 
 by George Whitehead, and others, he obtained an 
 interview. A long conversation took place between 
 the Czar and W. Penn, in the high Dutch langaage, 
 and the latter presented him with several of his 
 books, explanatory of the sentiments and manners 
 of the Friends, in the same tongue. The monarch 
 was 80 impressed with their sincerity and piety, 
 that he occasionally attended their meetings whilst at 
 Deptford ; conducting himself, it is said, with great 
 decorum and condescension. Sixteen years after- 
 wards, when he was at Frederickstadt in Holstein, 
 he enquired, whether there were any Friends in 
 that place ? And being told that there were ; he 
 went to one of their meetings attended by Prince 
 Menzikoff, and several of his nobility. A Philip 
 Defair preached on the occasion. The monarch 
 sometimes interpreted what he said to the great 
 men who were with him. When the discourse was 
 ended, Peter remarked, that whoever, could live 
 according to the doctrines which they had then 
 heard, would be happy. 
 After the death of hi» son, in 160T, W. Penn 
 
107 
 
 with his family, took up their residence in the city 
 of Bristol ; in the following year, he began seriously 
 to think of returning to America. It was necessary 
 however, that he should visit Ireland for the settle- 
 ment of his affairs. After preaching in Dublin, 
 and Wexford, he gave notice that he would hold a 
 meeting at Waterford. He was detained at Ross, 
 by a singular circumstance. Several of the horses 
 belonging to the company who were with him, had 
 been ferried over the river, whilst they were at 
 dinner, but the others were seized. The pretence 
 for this injustice was, that the Irish Parliament 
 had passed an Act, that no papist should have a 
 horse of the value of five guineas, and upwards ; 
 and that any Protestant discovering such a horse 
 might sieze it. William Penn very properly com- 
 plained of this violence to the proper authorities ; 
 and the officers who had chosen, without the least 
 ground, to regard him and his friends as Roman 
 Catholics, were confined to their cliambers, and 
 pardoned finally, by the intercession of the indivi- 
 dual whom they had insulted and injured. 
 
 Having preached at many places in Ireland, he 
 returned to his family and friends at Bristol. Here 
 he wrote a pamphlet, vindicating the society to 
 
108 
 
 whicb he belonged, from tLe objections of the 
 Bishop of Cork, and more fully explaining their 
 views. 
 
 Several of the Norfolk clergy having united in a 
 publication, greatly misrepresenting the sentiments 
 of the Friends, which they presented to the Parlia- 
 ment, praying that the indulgence of the Toleration 
 Act, might not be extended to their society, W. 
 Penn circulated the following suitable address 
 among the members of the Lords and Commons, 
 " It does not surprise us to be evilly intreated, 
 and especially by those who have an interest in 
 doing it; but if conscience prevailed more than 
 contention, and charity over-ruled prejudice, we 
 might hope for fairer quarter from our adversaries. 
 
 " But such is our unhappiness, that nothing less 
 will satisfy them, than breaking in upon the indul- 
 gence we enjoy, if they could persuade the govern- 
 ment to second their attempts to a new persecu- 
 tion ; in order to which we perceive they have 
 been hard at work to pervert our books, violate 
 our sense, abuse our practice, and ridicule our 
 persons; knowing very well with whom they have 
 to do, and that the patience of our profession is 
 their security in abusing it. 
 
109 
 
 " However, if it has weiijht enough with our 
 superiors, to make them expect a fresh defence of 
 our principles and practice, we shall, with God's 
 assistance, be ready for their satisfaction, once 
 more to justify them, both against the insults of 
 our restless adversaries ; who otherwise, we beg 
 leave to say, would not deserve our notice; 
 since we have already repeatedly answered their 
 objections in print, and think it our duty, as well 
 as wisdom, to use the liberty the government has 
 favoured us with, in as peaceable and inoffensive 
 a manner as may be." 
 
 He now began seriously to prepare for a voyage 
 to America, and had determined to take his wife 
 and family with him. Having addressed a letter 
 to the Friends scattered through Europe, he em- 
 barked at Cowes for Pennsylvania. He arrived 
 in the river Delaware, after a tedious passage of 
 nearly three months, the last day of the eleventh 
 month, lt)99. The yellow fever, which had pain- 
 fully raged in the settlement, had just subsided. 
 Thomas Story, who had preceded W. Penn, in a 
 voyage to the new colony, gives, in his journal, 
 the following brief account of this painful visita- 
 tion. " Whilst I was in Philadelphia, six, seven. 
 
110 
 
 and eight persons a day, were taken oif, for several 
 weeks together. Great was the majesty, and the 
 hand of the Lord. Great was the fear which fell 
 upon all. I saw no lofty nor airy countenance, 
 nor heard any vain jesting, to move men to laugh- 
 ter ; nor witty repartee, to raise unreasonable 
 mirth ; nor extravagant feasting ; but every face 
 gathered paleness, and many hearts were humbled, 
 and countenances fallen and sunk, as if they waited 
 every moment to be called to the grave, and to be 
 summoned to the bar of God." 
 
 W. Penn proceeded, as soon as possible, to 
 Philadelphia, where he was received with universal 
 congratulation. The people were especially pleased 
 with the hope, that he intended to fix his residence 
 among them for the remainder of his days. Not- 
 withstanding the severity of the season, for the 
 fields were covered with ice, he journeyed from 
 place to place, "doing good." One evening, when 
 he slept at Merion, " a boy, about twelve years 
 of age, son of the person at whose house he 
 lodged, being an inquisitive lad, and not often 
 seeing such a guest, privately crept up a flight of 
 steps, on the outside of the building to his chamber 
 door. On peeping through the latch-hole, he was 
 
Ill 
 
 struck with awe in beholding this distingnished 
 character npon his knees, by the bed-side; he 
 could distinctly hear him in prayer, and more 
 especially thanking God, who had kindly provided 
 for his wants in the wilderness. What the lad 
 saw and heard were not, it is said, eflfaced from 
 his memory, though he lived to be very old." 
 
 Soon after the settlement was made in Penn- 
 sylvania, a few Negroes had been procured ; by 
 this period they had greatly increased. Though it 
 was then generally regarded as a great advantage 
 to the African, to be redeemed from a land of 
 idolatry and heathenism, and few questioned the 
 propriety of such a transaction, William Penn 
 had turned his thoughts closely to the subject, and 
 was fully of opinion, that it was inconsistent with 
 the Christian religion, to buy and sell men, and to 
 hold them in slavery. Resolutions, founded on 
 this sentiment, were passed in the different soci- 
 eties of the Friends. The Governor especially, 
 had turned his attention to the spiritual and eter- 
 nal welfare of these poor foreigners, regarding 
 them as the children of one common Father. He 
 exhorted the planters to look on them as parts of 
 their own families, for whose welfare and religious 
 
112 
 
 instruction, they were altogether responsible. In 
 the house of Assembly, he proposed two bills lor 
 the security of the privileges of the slaves, and a 
 third for the regulation of their trials and punish- 
 ments ; but, strange to relate, he could not influ- 
 ence the planters to pass more than the latter. 
 
 In order to cultivate a good understanding with 
 the Indians, and to do them good, he attended one 
 of their feasts, and he encouraged their chiefs to 
 visit him at Pennsbury. Here he often gave them 
 audience in his great hall. He also undertook a 
 journey through his settlements for the preaching 
 of the Gospel. Many instances of his kindness 
 and condescension frequently occurred. As he was 
 going to Haverfordwest he overtook a little girl 
 on the road; and nnderstanding, in answer to his 
 enquiries, that she was going to meeting, he bade 
 her get up behind him, and he brought his horse 
 to a convenient place that she might do so. 
 
 He also made preaching excursions into Jersey 
 and Maryland. Of this last, a traveller gives the 
 following account. " Lord Baltimore, and his 
 lady, with their retinue, attended; out it was late 
 before they came, and the principal part of the 
 services were over;" or, as the narrator expressed 
 
it, " the strength and glory of the h«:a\eiily power 
 of the Lord was going off from tlie ineetiu<^ ; so 
 the lady was much disappointed, as I understood 
 by W. Penn ; for she told him, she did not want 
 to hear him, and such as he, for hu was a scholar 
 and a wise man ; and she did not question but be 
 could preach ; but she wanted to bear some ot our 
 mechanics preach, for she thought they could not 
 preach to any purpose. W. Penn told her, that 
 some of these were rather the best preachers we 
 had among us." 
 
 Soon after this W. Penn went to Philadelphia 
 to meet several Kings of difit;rent nations of In- 
 dians. The design of their meeting was to make 
 one gcueral treaty between themselves and the 
 Governor. Many kind speeches were made on 
 both sides. It was agreed, " that there should be 
 a firm and lasting peace between W. Penn, and 
 his heirs, and the said Kings and their successors, 
 in behalf of their respective tribes; that they 
 should be aa one head and one heart; that they 
 should at no time, hurt, injure, or defraud each 
 other, or suffer each other to be hurt, injured, or 
 defrauded ; that the Indians should behave tiiem- 
 H-lves regularly and soberly according to the law a 
 
Ii4 
 
 of Pennsylvania, wbile Ihey lived in it, and that 
 Ihey Ehoukl have, in return, the same benefit from 
 the said laws as the other inhabitants ; that tliey 
 should not aid or assist any other nation, whether 
 Indians or others, that were not in amity with 
 England, and the Government of Pennsylvania; 
 that they should not sell their skins, furs, or other 
 produce, to persons out of the eaid province, but 
 only to those publicly authorized to trade with 
 them ; and that for their encouragement, care 
 should be taken that they should be duly furnished 
 with all sorts of necessary goods, and at reasonable 
 rates ; and that the Potomac Indians should have 
 free leave to settle on any part of Potomac river 
 within the bounds of the province, so long as 
 they conformed themselves to tlie articles of the 
 treaty." 
 
 The treaty having been read, the contracting 
 parties ratified it by presents, and set their hands 
 and seals to it ; the Indians brought five parcels of 
 skins, and W. Penn gave them various articles of 
 English merchandize. 
 
 News having reached him from England, that 
 the Government were proposing to make very 
 great changes in the management of the American 
 
115 
 
 Colonics, he was much distressed. The owners of 
 land, who were resident in the parent country, 
 petitioned the Parliament, that all proceedings in 
 the business might be delayed, till W. Pcnn could 
 arrive in England. They now requested him to 
 return with all possible dispatch. He clearly saw 
 the necessity of the case, and determined to hasten 
 to Europe, to plead his own cause, and that of the 
 Colonies. 
 
 As soon as he was able, therefore, he called the 
 House of Assembly together, and made known to 
 tliem the intelligence he had received, and his 
 intention of leaving them for a season. " I con- 
 fess," said he, " I cannot think of such a voyage, 
 without great reluctancy of mind, having promised 
 myself the quietness of a wilderness ; and that I 
 might stay so long at least with you as to render 
 every body entirely easy and safe ; for my heart 
 is among you as well as my body, whatever some 
 people may please to think ; and no unkindness or 
 disappointment shall, with submission to God's 
 providence, ever be able to alter my love to the 
 country, and resolution to return, and settle niy 
 family and posterity in it ; but having reason to 
 believe, I can at this lime best serve you, and 
 I 2 
 
116 
 
 myself on that side of the water, neither the rnde- 
 ness of the season, nor the tender circumstances 
 of my family, can over-rule my inclinations to 
 undertake it." 
 
 The whole of his deportment towards the people 
 in his Colonies was marked by generous concili- 
 ation. Before he left them, as he found there were 
 still many differences and foolish jealousies in the 
 Assembly, he addressed to them the following 
 brief, but most excellent communication. 
 
 " Friends, 
 
 " Your union is what I desire ; but your peace, 
 and accommodating one another is what I must 
 expect from you. The reputation of it is some- 
 thing ; the reality is much more. And I desire yon 
 to remember and observe what I say : yield in 
 circumstantials to preserve essentials; and, being 
 safe in one another, you will always be so in 
 esteem with me. Make me not sad when I am 
 going to leave you ; since it is for you, as well as 
 for your Friend and Governor, 
 
 William Penn." 
 This letter produced a spirit of kindness and 
 moderation among the senators, which happily 
 continued till the end of the session. 
 
117 
 
 Having given a Charter to the Inhabitants of 
 Philadelphia, and appointed suitable persons to 
 manage the public affairs during bis absence, he 
 bade them farewell. " He had applied himself," as 
 one of his Biographers well remarks, "to the 
 offices of government, always preferring the good 
 of the country and its inhabitants, to his own 
 private interest ; rather remitting, than rigoronsly 
 exacting bis lawful revenues : so that, under the 
 influence of his paternal administration, be left the 
 province in an easy and flourishing condition." 
 After a voyage of about six weeks, he arrived 
 at Portsmouth, with his wife and family about 
 the middle of December, 1701. 
 
 He had soon the pleasure to find, that the Bill, 
 on whose account he had crossed the Atlantic, 
 which was designed to convert his colonies into 
 regal governments, had been abandoned. 
 
 King William dying about this time, Queen 
 Anne succeeded to the throne. W. Penn some- 
 times attended her court, and was always kindly 
 received. She was pleased to converse with the 
 Governor, especially on American aflFairs. He 
 presented to her the Address of the Friends on her 
 accession. On which occasion her Majesty said. 
 
118 
 
 " Mr. Penn, I am well pleased, that what I have 
 said is to yonr satisfaction; you, and yonr Friends 
 may be assured of my protection." 
 
 He was much grieved by all his letters from 
 America, to learn, that those to whom he hart 
 committed the management of his affairs, could not 
 agree among themselves. The whole of their con- 
 duct gave him the greatest uneasiness. His trouble 
 also was greatly increased, by the unjust demands 
 of the executors of his steward, in whom he 
 appears to have placed great confidence, and which 
 he had shamefully abused. He appealed to the 
 court of Chancery, but could gain no redress. So 
 much was he embarassed by this affair in his 
 pecuniary concerns, that he was obliged to mort- 
 gage his Province of Pennsylvania for six thousand, 
 six hundred pounds. A co-temporary writer notices 
 this circumstance in the following terms, — "The 
 troubles that befell William Penn in the latter part 
 of his life are of a nature too private to have a 
 place in a public history. He trusted an ungrateful, 
 unjust agent too liberally with the management of 
 his property ; and when he expected to have been 
 thousands of pounds the better for it, he found 
 himself thousands of pounds in debt; insomuch 
 
119 
 
 that he was restrained of his liberty within the 
 privilege of the Fleet, by a tedious and unsuccess- 
 ful law-suit ; which, together with age, broke his 
 spirits not easily to be broken, and rendered him 
 incapable of business and society, as he was wont 
 to be in the days of his health, and vigour both of 
 body and mind." 
 
 The air near Loudon not being favourable to his 
 health, he took in 1710, a mansion at Rushcomb, 
 near Twyford, in Berkshire. Two years after- 
 wards be determined to part with his interest in 
 his American Colonies to Government, Queen Anne 
 referred his proposal to the Lords Commissioners 
 of Trade and Plantations. An agreement was at 
 length concluded, by which he was to receive 
 twelve thousand pounds. But it was not then 
 executed, as his health was in a very bad state. 
 He had been attacked by several apoplectic tits, 
 which left his memory and understanding sadly 
 impaired. 
 
 The Assemblies in his Colonies continuing their 
 conflicts and jealousies, all the intelligence he 
 received from them added greatly to his trouble. 
 Summoning up all his broktMi faculties, he there- 
 fore wrote them an expostulatory letter, whiili 
 
120 
 
 seems, to have been of some service, in awakeninf; 
 them to more becoming considerations of their 
 interest and duty. As it appears to be the last he 
 wrote on this snbject, a few of its most interesting 
 paragraphs are presented to the reader. 
 "My old Friends, 
 
 " It is a monrnful consideration, and the canse 
 of deep affliction to me, that I am forced, by the 
 oppressions and disappointments which have fallen 
 to my share in this life, to speak to the people of 
 that Province in a laugoage which I hoped I 
 should never have occasion to use. But the many 
 troubles and oppositions, that I have met with, 
 from thence, oblige me, with plainness and free- 
 dom, to expostulate with yon concerning the causes 
 of them. 
 
 " When it pleased God to open a way for me to 
 settle that colony, I had reason to expect solid 
 comfort from the service done to many hundred 
 families; and it was no small satisfaction tome, 
 that I had not been disappointed in seeing them 
 prosper, and growing up to a flourishing country, 
 blessed with liberty, ease, and plenty, beyond what 
 many of themselves couM expect, and wanting 
 nothing to maJie themselves Unppy, but what with 
 
121 
 
 right temper of mind, an<l prudent conduct, they 
 might give themselves. But alas ! as to ray part, 
 instead of reaping the like advantages, some of 
 the greatest of my troubles have arisen from 
 thence. The many combats I have engaged in, 
 the great pains and incredible expense for your 
 welfare and ease, to the decay of my former 
 estate, of which, (however some of them would 
 represent it) I too sensibly feel the effects, with 
 the undeserved opposition I have met with from 
 thence, sink me into sorrow, that if not supported 
 by a superior hand, might have overwhelmed me 
 long ago. And I cannot but think it a hard 
 measure, that, while that has proved a land of 
 freedom and flourishing, it should become to me, 
 by whose means it was principally made a country, 
 the cause of grief, trouble, and poverty. 
 
 " For this reason I must desire you all, even of 
 all professions and degrees (for although all have 
 not been engaged in the measures that have been 
 taken, yet every man who has an interest there is, 
 or must be concerned in them by their effects), I 
 must therefore, I say, desire you all, in a serious 
 and true weightiness of mind, to consider what 
 you are, or have been, doing; why matters must 
 
122 
 
 be carried on with these divisioas and contentions; 
 and what real causes have been given on my side, 
 for that opposition to me and my interest which I 
 have met with, as if I were an enemy and not a 
 friend, after all I have done and spent both here 
 and there: I am sure I know not of any cause 
 whatever. Were I sensible you really wanted 
 any thing of me, in the relation between as, that 
 would make you happier, I should readily grant 
 it, if any reasonable man would say, it were fit for 
 you to demand, provided you would also take such 
 measures as were fit for me to join with. 
 
 "As for my own part, as I desire nothing more 
 than the tranquility and prosperity of the Province 
 and Government iu all its branches, could I see 
 that any of these things that have been contended 
 for would certainly promote these ends, it would 
 be a matter of indifference to me how they were 
 settled. But seeing the frame of every government 
 ought to be regular in itself, well proportioned and 
 subordinate iu its parts, and every branch of it 
 invested with sufficient powers to discharge its 
 respective duty for the support of the whole; I 
 have cause to believe that nothing could be more 
 destructive to it, than to take so nuich of the 
 
1-23 
 
 executive part of the Government out of the 
 Governor's hands, — and lodge it in an uncertain 
 executive body ; and more especially since our 
 Government is dependent, and I am answerable 
 to the Crown if the administratiua lihould fail, and 
 a stop be put to the course of justice. On these 
 considerations, I cannot think it prudent in the 
 people to crave these powers; because not only I, 
 but they themselves, w^ould be in danger of suffer- 
 ing by it. Could I believe otherwise, I should not 
 be against granting any thing of this kind that 
 were asked of me with any degree of common 
 prudence and civility. But, instead of finding 
 cause to believe the contentions that have been 
 raised about these matters, have proceeded only 
 from mistakes of judgment, with an earnest desire 
 notwithstanding at the bottom to serve the public 
 (which I hope has still been the inducement of 
 several concerned in them), I have had but too 
 sorrowful a view and sight to complain of the 
 manner in which I have been treated. The attack 
 on my reputation ; the many indignities put upon 
 me in papers sent over hither into the hands of 
 those who could not be expected to make the most 
 discreet and charitable use of them; the secret 
 
124 
 
 insinuations against my justice ; besides the attempt 
 made upon my estate ; resolves past in the Assem- 
 blies for tnrning my quit-rents, never sold by me, 
 for the support of Government ; my lands entered 
 upon without any regular method ; my manors 
 invaded (under pretence that I had not duly 
 surveyed them), and both these by persons princi- 
 pally concerned in these attempts against me here; 
 a right to my overplus land unjustly claimed by 
 the possessors of the tracts in •w hich they are found ; 
 my private estate continually exhausting for the 
 support of that government, both here and there, 
 and no provision made for it by that country ; to 
 all which I cannot but add, the violence, that has 
 been particularly shewn to my secretary; of which 
 (though I shall by no means protect him in any- 
 thing he can be justly charged with, but suffer him 
 to stand or fall by his own actions,) I cannot but 
 thus far take notice, that, from all the charges I 
 have seen or heard of against him, I have cause to 
 believe, that had he been as much in opposition to 
 me as he has been understood to stand for me, he 
 might have met with milder treatment from his 
 prosecutors ; and to think that any man should be 
 the more exposed there on my account, and, instead 
 
125 
 
 of finding favour, meet with euiuity, for his being 
 engaged in my serv ice, is a melancholy consider- 
 ation ! In short, when I reflect on all these heads, 
 of which I have so much cause to complain, and at 
 the same time think of the hardships I and my 
 suffering family have been reduced to, in no small 
 measure owing to my endeavours for, and disap- 
 pointments from that Province ; I cannot but moorn 
 the nnhappiness of my portion, dealt to me from 
 those of whom I had reason to expect much better 
 and different things ; nor can I but lament the 
 unhappiness that too many of them arc bringing on 
 themselves, who, instead of pursuing the amicable 
 ways of peace, love, and uuity, which I at first 
 hoped to find in that retirement, are cherishing a 
 spirit of contention and opposition ; and, blind to 
 their own interests, are over-setting that fouudatiou 
 on which your happiness might be built. 
 
 " Friends 1 the eyes of many are upon you ; the 
 people of many nations of Europe look on that 
 country as the land of ease and quiet, wishing to 
 themselves in vain the same blessings they conceive 
 you may enjoy ; but, to see the use you make of 
 ttiem is no less the cause of surprise to others, while 
 such bitter coniplaiuls and relltctioiis are seen to 
 
126 
 
 come from you, of which it is difficnlt to conceive 
 even the sense or meaning. Where are the dis- 
 tresses, grievances, and oppressions, that the papers 
 sent from thence so often say you languish under, 
 while others have cause to believe you have hitherto 
 lived, or might live, the happiest of any in the 
 Queen's Dominions ? 
 
 " Is it such a grievous oppression, that the courts 
 are established by my power, founded on the King's 
 Charter, without a law of your making, when upon 
 the same plan you propose ? If this disturb any, 
 take the advice of other able lawyers on the main 
 without tying me up to the opiuion of, principally, 
 one man, whom I cannot think so very proper to 
 direct in my affairs (for I believe the late Assembly 
 have had but one lawyer amongst them) and I am 
 freely content you should have any law that, by 
 proper judges, should be found suitable. Is it your 
 oppression that the officers fees are not settled by 
 an act of Assembly? No man can be a greater 
 enemy to extortion than myself. Do, therefore, 
 allow such fees as may reasonably encourage fit 
 persons to undertake these offices, and you shall 
 soon have (and should have always cheerfully had) 
 mine, and, I hope, my lieutenant's concurrence and 
 
approbation. Is it snch an oppression that 
 licences for public-houses, have not been etttled, 
 as has been proposed ? It is a certain sign you are 
 strangers to oppression, and know nothing but 
 the name, when you so hijjhiy bestow it on matters 
 so inconsiderable : but that business I find is 
 adjusted. Could I know any real oppression you 
 lie under, that it is in my power to remedy (and 
 what I wish you would take proper measures to 
 remedy, if you truly feel any such) I would be as 
 ready on my part lo remove thera as you to desire 
 it; but according to the best judgment I can make 
 of the complaints I have seen, (and you once 
 thought I had a pretty good one,) I must in a deep 
 sense of sorrow say, that I fear the kind hand of 
 Providence that has so long favoured and protect- 
 ed you, will, by the ingratitude of many there to 
 the great mercies of God hitherto shewn them, be 
 at length provoked to convince them of their 
 uDworthincss ; and by changing the blessings, that 
 so little care has been taken by the public to 
 deserve, into calamities, reduce those that have 
 been so clamorous and causelessly discontented, to 
 a true but smarting sense of their duty. I write 
 not this with a design to include all ; I doubt not 
 
128 
 
 many of you have been burdened, and can by no 
 means Join in, the measures that have been taken ; 
 but whilst such things appear under the name of 
 an Assembly, that ought to represent the whole, I 
 cannot but speak more generally than I would 
 desire, though I am not insensible what methods 
 may be used to obtain the weight of such a name. 
 " I have already been tedious, and shall now there- 
 fore briefly say, that the opposition I have met 
 with from thence must at length force me to con- 
 sider more closely of my own private and sinking 
 circumstances in relation to that Province. In the 
 meantime I desire you all seriously to weigh what 
 1 have wrote, together with your duty to yourselves, 
 to me, and to the w orld, who have their eyes upon 
 you, and are witnesses of my early and earnest 
 care for you. I must think there is a regard due to 
 me, that has not of late been paid ; pray consider 
 of it fully, and think soberly of what you have to 
 desire of me on this one band, and ought to per- 
 form to me on the other ; for, from the next Assem- 
 bly I shall expect to know what you resolve, and 
 what I may depend on. If I must continue my 
 regards to you, let me be engaged to it by a like 
 disposition toward me. But if a plurality, after 
 
129 
 
 this, shall think they owe me none, or no more 
 than for some years I have met with, let it, on a 
 fair election, be so declared ; and I shall then, 
 without further suspense, know what I have to 
 rely upon. God give you his wisdom and fear to 
 direct you, that yet our poor country may be 
 blessed with peace, love, and industry, and we 
 may once more meet good friends, and live so to 
 the end, our relation in the Truth having but 
 the same true interest. 
 
 " I am with great truth and most sincere regard, 
 your real Friend, as well as just Proprietor and 
 Governor, William Pknn." 
 
 As to his health, he still continued in a de- 
 clining state ; from the nature of his affliction, 
 it might, indeed, reasonably have been expected. 
 A Friend, who at this period was at his house 
 for a few days, has left the following gratifying 
 account of his circumstances. " He was then," 
 says Thomas Story, " under the lamentable effects 
 of an apoplectic fit, which he bad had some time 
 before ; for his memory was almost quite lost, and 
 the use of his understanding suspended ; so that 
 he was not now so conversible as formerly, and 
 yet as near the truth, in the love of it, as before ; 
 K 
 
130 
 
 M herein appeared the great mcrey and favour of 
 God, who looks not as man looks ; for though lo 
 pome this accident might look like judgment, and 
 no doubt his enemies so accounted it, yet it will 
 bear quite another interpretation, if it be consid- 
 ered how little time of rest he ever had from the 
 importunities of the affairs of others to the injury 
 of his own concerns, and suspension of all bis 
 enjoyments, till this happened to him, by which 
 he was rendered incapable of all business, and yet 
 sen&ible of the enjoyment of Truth as at any time 
 in all his life. When I went to the house, I 
 thought myself strong enough to see him in that 
 condition ; but when I entered the room, and 
 perceived the great defect of his expression, for 
 want of memory, it greatly bowed my spirit under 
 a consideration of the uncertainty of all human 
 qualifications, and what the finest of men are soon 
 reduced to, by a disorder of the organs of that body, 
 with which the soul is connected and acts during 
 this present mode of being. When these are but a 
 little obstructed in their various functions, a man 
 of the clearest parts, and finest expression, becomes 
 scarcely intelligible. Nevertheless, no insanity or 
 lunacy at all appeared in his actions ; and his mind 
 
131 
 
 was in an innocent state, as appeared by hia very 
 loving deportment to all that came near him, and 
 that he had still a good sense of Truth is plain, by 
 some very clear sentences he spoke in the life and 
 power of Truth, in an evening-meeting we had 
 together there, wherein we were greatly comforted ; 
 so that I was ready to think this was a sort of 
 sequestration of him from all the concerns of this 
 life which so much oppressed him, not in judgment, 
 but in mercy, that he might have rest, and not be 
 oppressed thereby to the end. 
 
 In 1715, he journeyed to Bath for a season for 
 the benefit of the waters, but they were of no real 
 utility to him. He went in his chariot, nearly 
 to the last, to the meeting at Reading; where he 
 occasionally uttered a few weighty sentiments; 
 and ever manifested to his friends around him 
 the greatest tenderness. On one occasion, when 
 several of them left him, he said, "My love is 
 with you ; the Lord preserve you ; and remember 
 me in the everlasting covenant!" 
 
 After a continued and gradual declension for 
 about six years, his body drew near to its dissolu- 
 tion. On the thirtieth day of July 1718, between 
 two and three o'clock in the morning, in the 
 K 2 
 
132 
 
 seventy-fourth year of his age, his spirit, prepared 
 for a more glorious habitation, forsooli the decayed 
 tabernacle, which was committed to the earth at 
 Jordans, in Buckinghamshire, where his former 
 wife, and several of nis family, were interred. 
 And as he had led in this life a course of patient 
 continuance in well-doing, and through faith in 
 our Lord Jesus Christ, had been able to overcome 
 his spiritual enemies, he has, doubtless, been ad- 
 mitted to that everlasting inheritance which God 
 hath prepared for those who love him." 
 
 A large concourse of people, from all parts, 
 attended his funeral. They consisted, so generally 
 was he respected, of persons of all religious deno- 
 minations. " I arrived," says one of his old 
 friends, " at Rushcomb late in the evening, where 
 I found the widow and most of the family together. 
 My coming occasioned a fresh remembrance of 
 the deceased, and also a renewed flood of many 
 tears from all eyes. We had a solid time of wor- 
 ship together, though but few words among us 
 for some time ; for it was a deep baptizing season, 
 and the Lord was near at that time. I accompanied 
 the corpse to the grave, where we had a large meet- 
 ing; and as the Lord had made choice of him in the 
 
133 
 
 days of his youth for great and good services ; had 
 been with him in many dangers and difficulties of 
 various sorts, and did not leave him in his last mo- 
 ments; so, he was pleased to honour this occasion with 
 his blessed presence, and gave us a happy season 
 of his goodness, to the general satisfaction of all." 
 
 He was rather large, and towards the close of 
 life, corpulent in his person, and remarkably neat 
 in his dress. His family was regulated by much 
 wisdom and piety. The members of it assembled 
 for divine worship, morning and evening. They 
 were called together also about eleven o'clock, 
 when each read a portion of Scripture, or of some 
 good book. He excelled in conversation ; Tillot- 
 son, it is said, took much pleasure in Iiis company; 
 and Dean Swift affirms, that when he had met 
 him occasionally, " he talked very agreeably, and 
 with much spirit." It is evident, from the whole 
 of his character, " that he was," as Clarkson ob- 
 serves, " a kind husband, a tender father, a noble 
 patriot, and a good man." He seems to have been 
 daily conversant with the divine Being, daily 
 worshipping and praising him, either in private, 
 family, or public devotions. All his publications, 
 nay, almost every letter, breathes a spirit of piety, 
 
134 
 
 and reliance upoii God. Hence he must have been 
 lowly-minded, merciful, and just. Under disap- 
 pointments he was patient, under persecutions for- 
 giving. Though his life was a scene of trial and 
 suffering, he had intervals of comfort and happi- 
 ness of the most substantial nature ; one ray of 
 the divine presence often dissipating whole clouds 
 of affliction." 
 
 As a legislator, he is worthy of the highest com- 
 mendation. He established it as a fundamental 
 principle, that it was the truest wisdom, as well as 
 equity, that the most unlimited toleration should be 
 granted to persons of all religious persuasions. He 
 abolished the punishment of death, except in case 
 of murder. He ordained, that all prisons should 
 become workshops, and places of manufacture. He 
 regarded the reformation of the criminal, as the 
 great point at which the magistrate should aim. He 
 saw the wickedness of exterminating a culprit, 
 where there was a possibility of correcting his 
 morals. He thought, that the great end of punish- 
 ment was to deter, and to prevent men from the 
 commission of crime. The present generation is 
 reaping, and all future ones will experience the 
 benefit of his laws. Wilful and premeditated 
 
135 
 
 murder is still the only capital offcucc iu PliiUdcl 
 phia. " All other crimes are punished by fine, 
 imprisonment, and labour. AH convicted criminals 
 are expected to maintain themselves out of their 
 own labour, as well as to defray the expenses of 
 their commitment, prosecution, and trial. Accord- 
 ingly an account is kept regularly ; and if when the 
 term of their imprisonment is expired, any surplus 
 money is due to them on account of their work, it 
 is given to them on their discharge. No corporal 
 punishment is allowed in the prison ; nor can any 
 criminal be put into irons, it being the object not 
 to degrade him, but to induce him to be constantly 
 looking up to the restoration of his dignity as a 
 man, and to the recovery of his moral character. 
 No intercourse is allowed between the untried and 
 convicted prisoners. All unnecessary conversation 
 is forbidden. Profane swearing is never over- 
 looked. A watch is kept against the introduction 
 of spirituous liquors. All the prisoners have the 
 benefit of religious instruction. The prisons are 
 open at stated times, to the pastors of the different 
 /lenoniinations. Hope is held out to the prisoners, 
 that the time of their confinement may be lessened 
 l)y their good behaviour. Those who visit ihe 
 
136 
 
 criminals in the jails at Philadelphia, see no chains 
 nor fetters, but industry in various departments 
 going on ; so that the place appears, as a general 
 manufactory, where different people have agreed 
 to follow their respective trades." 
 
 The greatest advantages have arisen from these 
 salutary regulations. Crimes have been diminished 
 one half; and multitudes of criminals have been 
 reformed, and restored to the community. 
 
 That the Indians cherished a great regard for 
 him after his death, appears evident from a variety 
 of circumstances. When Sir W. Keith called five 
 of their nations together at Albany, in 1722, one of 
 their chiefs made the following speech. " Brother 
 Onas! you have told us, that at the time you 
 brightened the covenant chain between ns, yon 
 wished it might be clear and lasting as the sun and 
 stars in heaven, for which we thank yon. And we 
 being now all present do in the most solemn and 
 public manner renew the covenant and brighten 
 the chain made between us ; that the lustre thereof 
 may never be obscured by any clouds or darkness, 
 but may shine as clear and last as long as the sun 
 in the firmament." Brother Onasf you have like- 
 wise told us how William Penn, who was a good 
 
137 
 
 man, did, at his first settlement of the province of 
 Pensylvania, make leagues of friendship with the 
 Indians, and treated them like brethren, and that, 
 like the same good man, he left it in charge to all 
 his Governors who should succeed him, and to all 
 the people of Pensylvania, that they should 
 always keep the covenants and treaties which be 
 made with the five nations, and treat them with 
 love and kindness. We acknowledge that bis 
 Governors and people have always kept the same 
 honestly and truly to this day; so we on our part 
 always have kept and for ever shall keep firm 
 peace and friendship with a good heart to all the 
 people of Pensylvania. We thankfully receive and 
 approve of all the articles in your proposition to us, 
 and acknowledge them to be good and full of love. 
 We receive and approve of the same with our 
 whole heart, because we are not only made one 
 people by the covenant chain, but we also are 
 people united in one head, one body, and one 
 heart, by the strongest tics of love and friend- 
 ship. Brother Onas ! We say further, we are 
 glad to hear the former treaties made with William 
 Penn, repeated to us again, and renewed by you. 
 
138 
 
 and we esteem and love you, as if you were 
 WiUiam Penn himself." 
 
 Among a multitude of eulogies which have been 
 pronounced, and justly, on the character of William 
 Penn, that of Father O'Leary, a Roman Catholic, 
 is worthy of being preserved. William Penn," 
 says he, " had the success of a conqueror in esta- 
 blishing and defending his Colony among savage 
 tribes, withoat ever drawing the sword ; the good- 
 ness of the most benevolent rulers, in treating his 
 subjects as his own children ; and the tenderness 
 of a universal father, who opened his arms to all 
 mankind, without distinction of sect or party. In 
 his republic it was not the religious creed, but 
 personal merit, that entitled every member of 
 society to the protection and emoluments of the 
 state." Truly, it would have been eminently 
 happy for mankind, if the legislators of nations 
 had all resembled William Penn. 
 
 0,1^0 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 TO 
 
 FRUITS OF SOLITUDE. 
 
 Reader, 
 
 This Enchiridion, I present thee with, is the fruit 
 of solitude : a school few care to learn in, though 
 none instructs us better. Some parts of it are the 
 result of serious reflection ; others the flashings of 
 lucid intervals, written for private satisfaction, and 
 now published for a help to human conduct. 
 
 The author blesseth God for his retirement, and 
 kisses that gentle hand which led him into it ; for 
 though it should prove barren to the world, it can 
 never do so to him. 
 
 He has now had some time he could call his 
 own, a property he was never so much master of 
 before ; in which he has taken a view of himself 
 and the world ; and observed wlierein he liath hit 
 and missed the mark ; what might have been done, 
 what mended, and what avoided, in his human 
 conduct : together with the omissions and excesses 
 of others, as well societies and governments, as 
 private families and persons. And he verily thinks, 
 were he to live over his life again, he could not 
 only, with God's grace serve him, but his neigh- 
 
140 
 
 bonr and himself, better than he hath done, and have 
 seven years of his time to spare. And yet, perhaps, 
 he hath not been the worst nor the idlest man in 
 the ■world ; nor is he the oldest. And this is rather 
 said, that it might quicken thee, reader, to lose 
 none of the time that is yet thine. 
 There is nothing of which we are apt to be so lavish 
 as of time, and about which we ought to be more 
 solicitoas ; since without it we can do nothing in 
 this world. Time is what we want most, but what, 
 alas ! we nse worst ; and for which God will cer- 
 tainly most strictly reckon with us, when time 
 shall be no more. 
 
 It is of that moment to us in reference to both 
 worlds, that I can hardly wish any man better, 
 than that he would seriously consider what he does 
 with his time ; how and to what end he employs it; 
 and what returns he makes to God, his neighbour 
 and himself for it. Will he never have a ledger 
 for this ; this, the greatest wisdom and work of life 1 
 
 To come but once into the world, and trifle 
 away our true enjoyment of it, and of ourselves 
 in it, is lamentable indeed. This one reflection 
 would yield a thinking person great instruction. 
 And, since nothing below man can so think, man 
 in being thoughtless must needs fall below himself. 
 And that, to be sure, such do, as are unconcerned 
 in the nse of their most precious time. 
 
141 
 
 This is bat too evident, if we will allow onrsclves 
 to consider, that there is hardly any thing we take 
 by the right end, or improve to its just advantage. 
 
 We understand little of the works of God, either 
 in nature or grace. We pursue false knowledge, 
 and mistake education extremely. We are violent 
 in our aftections, confused and immethodical in 
 our whole life ; making that a burden, w hich was 
 given for a blessing, and so of little comfort to 
 ourselves or others ; misapprehending the true notion 
 of happiness, and so missing the right use of life, 
 and the way of happy living. 
 
 And, until we are persuaded to stop, and step a 
 little aside, out of the noisy crowd and encumber- 
 ing hurry of the world ; and calmly take a pros- 
 pect of things, it will be impossible we should be 
 able to make a right judgment of ourselves, or 
 know our own misery. But, after we have made 
 the just reckonings, which retirement will help us 
 to, we shall begin to think the world in great 
 measure mad, and that we have been in a sort of 
 bedlam all this while. 
 
 Reader, whether young or old, think it not too 
 soon or too late to turn over the leaves of thy past 
 life : and be sure to fold down where any passage 
 of it may affect thee : and bestow thy remainder of 
 time, to correct those faults in thy future conduct, 
 be it in relation to this or the next life. What thou 
 
142 
 
 wouldst do, if what thou hast done were to do 
 again, be sure to do as long as thou livest, upon 
 the like occasions. 
 
 Our resolutions seem to be vigorous, as often as 
 we reflect upon our past errors ; but alas ! they are 
 apt to flag again upon fresh temptations to the 
 same things. 
 
 The author does not pretend to deliver thee an 
 exact piece ; his business not being ostentation, 
 but charity. It is miscellaneous in the matter of 
 it, and by no means artificial in the composure. 
 But it contains hints, that may serve thee for texts 
 to preach to thyself upon, and which comprehend 
 much of the course of human life ; since whether 
 thou art parent or ciiild, prince or subject, master 
 or servant, single or married, public or private, 
 mean or honourable, rich or poor, prosperous or 
 un prosperous, in peace or controversy, in business 
 or solitude ; whatever be thy inclination or aver- 
 sion, practice or duty, thou wilt find something 
 not unsuitably said for thy direction and advan- 
 tage. Accept and improve what deserves thy 
 notice; the rest excuse, and place to account of 
 good-will to thee and the whole creation of God. 
 
 o^fi' 
 
FRUITS 
 
 OF SOLITUDE. 
 
 IGNORANCE. 
 
 It is admirable to consider how many millions 
 of people come into, and go out of the world, igno- 
 rant of themselves, and of the world they liave 
 lived in. 
 
 If one went to see Windsor Castle, or Hampton 
 Court, it would be strange not to observe and 
 remember the situation, the building, the gardens, 
 fountains, &c. that make up the beauty and 
 pleasure of such a scat. And yet few people 
 know themselves : no, not their own bodies, the 
 houses of their minds, the most curious structure 
 of the world ; a living, walking, tabernacle ; nor 
 the world of which it was made, and out of which 
 it was fed ; which it would be so much for our 
 benefit, as well as our pleasure to know. We 
 cannot doubt this, when we are told that " the 
 invisible things of God are brought to light by the 
 things that arc seen and, consequently, we read 
 
144 
 
 our duty in them, as often as we look upon them, 
 to Him that is the great and wise Author of them, 
 if we look as we should do. 
 
 The world is certainly a great and stately volume 
 of natural things, and may be, not improperly, 
 styled the hieroglyphics of a better ; but, alas, how 
 very few leaves of it do we seriously turn over I 
 This ought to be the subject of the education of 
 our youth ; who, at twenty, when they should be 
 fit for business, know little or nothing of it. 
 
 EDUCATION. 
 
 We take pains to make our children scholars, 
 but not men ; to talk, rather than to know ; which 
 is true canting. 
 
 The first thing obvious to children is what is 
 sensible : and that we make no part of their rudi- 
 ments. 
 
 We press their memory too soon, and puzzle, 
 strain, and load them with words and rules to know 
 grammar and rhetoric, and a strange tongue or two, 
 that it is ten to one may never be useful to them ; 
 leaving their natural genius to mechanical, and phy- 
 sical or natural knowledge uncultivated and neg- 
 lected : which would be of exceeding use and 
 
143 
 
 |)iensure to them tliiougli tlie whole course of ihcii 
 life. 
 
 To be sure, languages are not to be despised or 
 neglected; but things are still to be preferred. 
 
 Children had rather be making of tools and in 
 struments of play ; shaping, drawing, framing and 
 building, &c. than getting some rules of propriety 
 of speech by heart : and those also would follow 
 with more judgment, and less trouble and time. 
 
 It were happy if we studied nature more in 
 natural things ; and acted according to nature : 
 whose rules are few, plain, and most reasonable. 
 
 Let us begin where she begins, go her pace, and 
 close always where she ends, and we cannot miss 
 of being good naturalists. 
 
 The creation would not be longer a riddle to us. 
 The heavens, earth, and waters, with their respec- 
 tive, various, and numerous inhabitants, their 
 productions, natures, seasons, sympathies, and 
 antipathies, their use, benefit, and pleasure, would 
 be better understood by us ; and an eternal wis- 
 dom, power, majesty, and goodness, very conspicu- 
 ous to us, through those sensible and passing forms : 
 the world wearing the mark of its Maker, whose 
 stamp is every where visible, and the characters 
 very legible to the children of wisdom. 
 
 L 
 
146 
 
 And it would go a great way to caution and 
 direct people in their use of the world, that they 
 were better studied and known in the creation of it. 
 For how could men find the confidence to abuse 
 it, while they should see the great Creator stare 
 them in the face in all and every part thereof? 
 
 Their ignorance makes them insensible ; and to 
 that insensibility may be ascribed their hard usage 
 of several parts of this noble creation, that has the 
 stamp and voice of a Deity every where, and in 
 every thing, to the observing. 
 
 It is pity, therefore, that books have not been 
 composed for youth by some curious and careful 
 naturalists, and also mechanics, in the Latin 
 tongue, to be used in schools, that they might learn 
 things with words : things obvious and familiar to 
 them, and which would make the tongue easier to 
 be obtained by them. 
 
 Many able gardeners and husbandmen are igno- 
 rant of the reason of their calling; as most artificers 
 are of the reason of their own rules that govern 
 their excellent workmanship. But a naturalist 
 and mechanic, of this sort, is master of the reason 
 of both, and might be of the practice too, if his 
 industry kept pace with his speculation ; which 
 were very commendable ; and without which he 
 
147 
 
 cannot be said to be a complete naturalist or 
 mechanic. 
 
 Finally, if man be the index or epitome of the 
 world, as philosophers tell us, we have only to 
 read ourselves well, to be learned in it. But 
 because there is nothing we less regard than the 
 characters of the Power that made us, which are 
 so clearly written upon us, and the world he ha8 
 given us, and can best tell us what we are and 
 should be; we are even strangers to our own 
 genius : the glass in which we should see that true, 
 instructing, and agreeable variety, which is to be 
 observed in nature, ti the admiration of that wis- 
 dom, and adoration of that power, which made 
 us all. 
 
 PRIDE. 
 
 And yet we are very apt to be full of ourselves, 
 instead of hira that made what we so much value ; 
 and but for whom we can have no reason to value 
 ourselves. For we have nothing that we can call 
 our own ; no, not ourselves : for we are all but 
 tenants, and at will too, of the great Lord of our- 
 selves and the rest of his great farm, the world 
 that we live upon. 
 
 L2 
 
148 
 
 But, methinks, we cannot answer it to ourselvcSi 
 as well as our Maker, that we should live and die 
 ignorant of ourselves, and thereby of him, and the 
 obligations we are under to him for ourselves. 
 
 If the worth of a gift sets the obligation, and 
 directs the return of the party that receives it, he 
 that is ignorant of it, will be at a loss to value it, 
 and to thank the giver for it. 
 
 Here is man in ignorance of himself : he knows 
 not how to estimate his Creator, because he knows 
 not how to value his creation. If we consider his 
 make, and lovely corapositure, the several stories 
 of his wonderful structure, his divers members, 
 their orders, function, and dependency; the instru- 
 ments of food, the vessels of digestion, the several 
 transmutations it passes, and how nourishment is 
 carried and diffused throughout the whole body, 
 by most intricate and imperceptible passages ; how 
 the animal spirit is thereby refreshed, and, with 
 an unspeakable dexterity and motion, sets all 
 parts at work to feed themselves ; and, last of all, 
 how the rational soul is seated in the animal as its 
 proper house, as is the animal in the body : I say, 
 if this rare fabric alone were but considered by us, 
 with all the rest by which it is fed and comforted, 
 surely man would have a more reverent sense of 
 
149 
 
 the power, wisdom, and goodness of God, and of 
 that duty he owes to him for it. But if he would 
 be acquainted with his own soul, its noble faculties, 
 its union with the body, its nature and end, and 
 the providences by which the whole frame of 
 humanity is preserved, he would admire and adore 
 his good and great God. But man is become a 
 strange contradiction to himself ; but it is of him- 
 self, not being by constitution but corruption such. 
 
 He would have others obey him, even his own 
 kind ; but he will not obey God, who is so much 
 above him, and who made him. 
 
 He will lose none of his authority — no, not abate 
 an ace of it. He is humoursome to his wife, he 
 beats his children, is angry with his servants, strict 
 with his neighbours, revenges all affronts to extre- 
 mity ; but, alas ! forgets all the while that he is 
 the man ; and is more in arrear to God, that is so 
 very patient with him, than they are to him, with 
 whom be is so strict and impatient. 
 
 He is curious to wash, dress, and perfume his 
 body, but careless of his soul ; the one shall have 
 many hours, the other not so many minutes ; this 
 shall have three or four new suits in a year, but 
 that must wear its old clothes still. 
 
 If he be to receive or see a great man, how nice 
 
150 
 
 and anxious is be that all things be in order ; and 
 with what respect and address does be approach 
 and make bis court ? Snt to God, how dry, and 
 formal and constrained in his devotion 1 
 
 In his prayers he says, " Thy will be done," 
 but means his own : at least acts so. 
 
 It is too frequent to begin with God, and end 
 witli the world. But he is the good man's begin- 
 ning and end, his Alpha and Omega. 
 
 LUXURY. 
 
 Such is now become our delicacy, that we will 
 not eat ordinary meat, nor drink small, palled 
 liquor; we must have the best and the best cooked 
 for our bodies, while our souls feed on empty or 
 corrupted things. 
 
 In short, man is spending all upon a bare house, 
 which hath little or no furniture within to recom- 
 mend it ; which is preferring the cabinet before 
 the jewel, a lease of seven years before an inheri- 
 tance. So absurd a thing is man, after all his 
 proud pretences to wit and understanding. 
 
151 
 
 INCONSIDERATION. 
 
 The want of due consideration is the ca«se of 
 all the unhnppiness man brings upon himself. For 
 his second thoughts rarely agree with his first ; 
 which pass not without a considerable retrench- 
 ment or correction. And yet that sensible warning 
 is, too frequently, not precaution enough for his 
 future conduct. 
 
 Well may we say, " Our infelicity is of our- 
 selves since there is nothing that we should not 
 do, but we know it, and yet do it. 
 
 DISAPPOINTMENT AND RESIGNATION. 
 For disappointments, that come not by our own 
 folly, they are the trials or corrections of heaven : 
 and it is our own fault if they prove not our ad- 
 vantage. 
 
 To repine at them does not mend the matter : it 
 is only to grumble at our Creator. But to see the 
 hand of God in them, with au iuimble submission 
 to his will, is the way to turn our water into 
 wine, and engage the greatest love and mercy on 
 our side. 
 
 We must needs disorder ourselves, if we only 
 look at our losses. But if we consider how little 
 
152 
 
 Avc deserve what is left, our passion will cool, and 
 our murmurs will turn into thankfulness. 
 
 If our hairs fall not to the ground, less do wc, or 
 our substance, without God's providence. 
 
 Nor can we fall below the arms of Go<l, how 
 low soever it be we fall. 
 
 For though our Saviour's passion is over, his 
 compassion is not. That never fails his humble 
 sincere disciples. In him they find more than all 
 that they lose in the world. 
 
 MURMURING. 
 
 Is it reasonable to take it ill, that any bo<ly 
 desires of us that which is their own ? All we 
 have is the Almighty's : and shall not God have 
 his own when he calls for it ? 
 
 Discontentedness is not only in such a case 
 ingratitude, but injustice : for we are both un- 
 thankful for the time we had it, and not honest 
 enough to restore it if we could keep it. 
 
 Bot it is hard for us to look on things in such a 
 glass, and at such a distance from this low world ; 
 and yet it is our duty, and would be our wiadojn 
 and our glory to do so. 
 
153 
 
 CENSORIOUSNESS. 
 
 We arc apt to be very forward to censure 
 others, where we will not endure advice ourselves. 
 And nothing shews our weakness more, than to 
 be so sharp-sighted at spying other men's faults, 
 and so purblind about our own. 
 
 When the actions of a neighbour are upon the 
 stage, we can have all our wit^i about us, are so 
 quick and critical that we can split a hair, anrl 
 tiud out every failure and infirmity: but are 
 without feeling, or have but very little sense, of 
 our own. 
 
 Much of this comes from ill nature, as well as 
 from an inordinate value of ourselves : for we 
 love rambling better than home, and blaming the 
 unhappy rather than covering and relieving them. 
 
 On such occasions some shew their malice, and 
 are witty upon misfortunes; others their justice, 
 they can reflect apace ; but few or none their cha- 
 rity, especially if it be about money matters. 
 
 You shall see an old miser come forth with a 
 set gravity, and so much severity against the 
 distressed, to excuse his purse, that he will, ere he 
 has done, put it out of all question that riches is 
 righteousness with him. " This," says he, " is the 
 fniit of your prodigality, (as if, poor man, covet-. 
 
154 
 
 oasness were no fault,) or of your projects, or 
 grasping after a great trade ;" while he himself 
 would have done the same thing, but that he had 
 not the courage to venture so much ready money 
 out of his own trusty hands, though it had been to 
 have brought him back the Indies in return. But 
 the proverb is just, "Vice should not correct sin." 
 
 They have a right to censure that have a heart 
 to help : the rest is cruelty, not justice. 
 
 BOUNDS OF CHARITY. 
 
 Lend not beyond thy ability, nor refuse to lend 
 out of thy ability ; especially when it will help 
 others more than it can hurt thee. 
 
 If thy debtor be honest and capable, thou hast 
 thy money again, if not with increase, with praise. 
 If he prove insolent, do not ruin him to get that 
 which it will not ruin thee to lose : for thou art 
 but a steward, and another is thy owner, master, 
 and judge. 
 
 The more merciful acts thou doest, the more 
 mercy thou wilt receive : and if with a charitable 
 employment of thy temporal riches, thou gainest 
 eternal treasure, thy purchase is infinite : thou wilt 
 have found the art of multiplying indeed. 
 
155 
 
 FRUGALITY OR BOUNTY. 
 
 Frugality is good, if liberality be joined with 
 it, Tlie tirst is leaving off superfluous expences ; 
 the last is bestowing them to the benefit of others 
 that need. The first without the last begins covet- 
 ousness ; the last without the first begins prodigal- 
 ity. Both together make an excellent temper. 
 Happy the place where they are found. 
 
 Were it universal, we should be cured of two 
 extremes, want and excess : and the one would 
 supply the other, and so bring both nearer to a 
 mean, — the just degree of earthly happiness. 
 
 It is a reproach to religion and government, to 
 suffer so much poverty and excess. 
 
 Were the superfluities of a nation valued, and 
 made a perpetual tax or benevolence, there would 
 be more alms-houses than poor, schools than scho- 
 lars, and enough to spare for government besides. 
 
 Hospitality is good, if the poorer sort are the 
 subjects of our bounty ; else too near a superfluity. 
 
 DISCIPLINE. 
 If thou wouldst be happy and easy in thy 
 family, above all things observe discipline. 
 
156 
 
 Every one in it should know his duty ; and there 
 .•ihould be a time and place for every thing ; and 
 whatever else is done or omitted, be sure to begin 
 and end with God. 
 
 INDUSTRY. 
 
 Love labour: for if thon dost not want it for 
 food, thou mayest for physic. It is wholesome for 
 thy body, and good for thy mind. It prevents the 
 fruits of idleness, whicli many times come of no- 
 thing to do, and leads too many to do what is 
 worse than nothing. 
 
 A garden, a laboratory, a workhouse, improve- 
 ments, and breeding, are pleasant and profitable 
 diversions to the idle and ingenioas ; for here they 
 miss ill company, and converse with nature and 
 art, whose varieties are equally grateful and in- 
 structing, and preserve a good constitution of body 
 and mind. 
 
 TEMPERANCE. 
 To this a spare diet contributes mucli. Eat 
 therefore to live, and do not live to eat. That i» 
 like a man, but this below a beast. 
 
157 
 
 Have wholesome, but not costly food ; and be 
 rather cleanly than dainty in ordering it. 
 
 The receipts of cookery are swelled to a volume, 
 but a good stomach excels them all : to whicit 
 nothing contributes more than industry and tem- 
 perance. 
 
 It is a cruel folly to offer up to ostentation so 
 many lives of creatures, as make up the state of 
 our treats ; as it is a prodigal one to spend more 
 in sauce than in meat. 
 
 The proverb says, "That enough is as good as a 
 feast;" but it is certainly better, if superfluity be 
 a fault, which it never fails to be at festivals. 
 
 If thou rise w ith an appetite, thou art sure never 
 to sit down without one. 
 
 Rarely drink but when thou art dry; nor then, 
 between meals, if it can be avoided. 
 
 The smaller the drink, the clearer the head, and 
 the cooler the blood : which are great benefits in 
 temper and business. 
 
 Strong liquors are good at some times, and in 
 small proportions : being better for physic, than 
 food ; for cordials, than common use. 
 
 The most common things are the most useful ; 
 which shews both the wisdom and goodness of the 
 great Lord of the family of the world. 
 
158 
 
 What, therefore, he has made rare, do not thou 
 use too commonly : lest thou shouldst invert the 
 use and order of things, become wanton and volup- 
 tuous, and thy blessings prove a curse. 
 
 "Let nothing be lost," said our Saviour; but 
 that is lost that is misused. 
 
 Neither urge another to that thou wouldst be 
 unwilling to do thyself ; nor do thyself what looks 
 unseemly and intemperate in another. 
 
 All excess is ill ; but drunkenness is of the worst 
 sort. It spoils health, dismounts the mind, and 
 unmans men. It reveals secrets, is quarelsomc, 
 lascivious, impudent, dangerous, and mad. In fine, 
 he that is drunk is not a man: because he is, 
 while drank, void of that reason that distinguishes 
 a man from a beast. 
 
 APPAREL. 
 
 Excess in apparel is another costly folly. The 
 very trimming of the vain world would clothe all 
 the naked one. 
 
 Choose thy clothes by thine own eyes, not an- 
 other's. The more plain and simple they are, the 
 better; neither unshapely nor fantastical; and for 
 use and decency, and not for pride. 
 
159 
 
 If thou art clean and warm, it is sufficient ; for 
 more doth but rob the poor, and please the wanton. 
 
 It is said of the true church, " The king's daugh- 
 ter is all glorious within." Let our care, therefore, 
 be of our minds, more than of our bodies, if we 
 would be of her communion. 
 
 We are told with truth, "That meekness and 
 modesty are the rich and charming attire of the 
 soul :" and the plainer the dress, the more distinct, 
 and with greater lustre, their beauty shines. 
 
 It is great pity such beauties are so rare, and 
 those of Jezebel's forehead are so common, whose 
 dresses are incentives to lust ; hwt bars, instead of 
 motives, to love or virtue. 
 
 RIGHT MARRIAGE. 
 
 Never marry but for love ; but see that thon 
 lovest what is lovely. 
 
 If love be not thy chiefcst motive, thou wilt 
 soon grow weary of a married state, and stray 
 from thy promise to search out thy pleasures in 
 forbidden places. 
 
 Let not enjoyment lessen, but augment, affec- 
 tion : it being the basest of passions to like when 
 we have not, what we slight when we possess. 
 
160 
 
 It is the difference betwixt lust ami love, that 
 this is fixed, that volatile. Love grows, lost 
 wastes, by enjoyment : and the reason is, that 
 one springs from an union of sonls, the other 
 springs from an union of sense. 
 
 They have diverse originals, and so are of differ- 
 ent families: that inward and deep, this superficial; 
 this transient, and that permanent. 
 
 They that marry for money, cannot have the 
 trae satisfaction of marriage ; the requisite means 
 being wanting. 
 
 Men are generally more careful of the breed of 
 their horses and dogs, than of their children. 
 
 Those must be of the best sort for shape, 
 strength, courage, and good conditions : but as for 
 these, their own posterity, money shall answer all 
 things. With such it makes the crooked straight, 
 sets squint-eyes right, cures madness, covers folly, 
 changes ill conditions, mends the skin, gives a 
 sweet breath, repairs honours, makes young, 
 works wonders. 
 
 O how sordid is man grown ! man, the noblest 
 creature of the world, as a Go<l on earth, and the 
 image of him that made it ; thus to mistake earth 
 for heaven, and worship gold for God ! 
 
161 
 
 AVARICE. 
 
 CovETOUSNESS IS the greatest of mon*ters, a> 
 well as the root of all evil. I have once seen a 
 man that died to save charges! "What! Give ten 
 shillings to a doctor, and have an apothecary's bill 
 besides, that may come to I know not what!" No, 
 not he : valuing life less than twenty shillings. 
 But, indeed, such a man could not, well, set too 
 low a price upon himself; who, though he lived 
 up to the chin in bags, had rather die, than find In 
 his heart to open one of them, to help to save 
 his life. 
 
 Such a man is " felo de se," and deserves not 
 christian burial. 
 
 He is a common nuisance, a wear across the 
 stream, that stops the current, an obstruction to 
 be removed by a purge of the law. The only 
 gratification he gives his neighbours, is to let them 
 see that he himself is as little the better for what 
 he has, as they are. For he always looks like 
 Lent ; a sort of Lay-Minim. In some sense he 
 may be compared to Pharaoh's lean kine; for all 
 that he has does him no good. He commonly 
 wears his clothes till they leave him or that 
 nobody else can wear them. He alt'ects to be 
 M 
 
162 
 
 thought poor, to escape robbery and taxes ; and 
 by looking as if he wanted an alms, excases him- 
 self from giving any. He ever goes late to 
 markets, to cover buying the worst; but does it 
 because that is cheapest. He lives on the offal. 
 His life would be an insupportable punishment, to 
 any temper but his own ; and there is no greater 
 torment to him on earth, than to live as other men 
 do. But the misery of his pleasure is, that he is 
 never satisfied with getting, and always in fear of 
 losing what he cannot use. 
 
 How vilely has he lost himself, who becomes a 
 slave to his servant, and exalts him to the dignity 
 of his Maker ! Gold is the God, the wife, the 
 friend of the money-monger of the world. But in 
 
 MARRIAGE 
 
 Do thou be wise ; prefer the person before 
 money, virtue before beauty, the mind before the 
 body; then thou hast a wife, a friend, a com- 
 panion, a second-self, one that bears an equal 
 share with thee in all thy toils and troubles. 
 
 Choose one that measures her satisfaction, safety, 
 and danger by thine ; and of whom thou art as 
 sure, as of thy most secret thoughts ; a friend, as 
 
163 
 
 well as a wife ; which indeed, a wife implies ; for 
 ^he is but half a wife that is not, or is not capable 
 of being such a friend. 
 
 Sexes make no diflferencc ; since in souls there i* 
 none : and they are the subjects of friendship. 
 
 He that minds a body and not a soul, has not 
 the better part of that relation ; and will conse- 
 quently want the noblest comfort of a married life. 
 
 The satisfaction of oar senses is low, short, and 
 transient ; but the mind gives a more raised and 
 extended pleasure, and is capable of a happiness 
 founded upon reason ; not bounded and limited by 
 the circumstances that bodies are confined to. 
 
 Here it is that we ought to search out our 
 pleasure, where the field is large, and full of 
 variety, and of an enduring nature; sickness, 
 poverty, or disgrace, not being able to shake it ; 
 because it is not under the moving influences of 
 worldly contingences. 
 
 The satisfaction of those that do so is in well- 
 doing, and in the assurance they have of a future 
 reward ; but they are best loved of those they love 
 most ; and that they enjoy and value the liberty of 
 their minds above that of their bodies : having the 
 whole creation for their prospect ; the most noble 
 M 2 
 
164 
 
 and wonderful works and providences of God, the 
 histories of the ancients, and in tliem the actions 
 and examples of the virtuous ; and, lastly, them- 
 selves, their affairs, and family, to exercise their 
 minds and friendship upon. 
 
 Nothing can be more entire and without reserve ; 
 nothing more zealoos, affectionate and sincere; 
 nothing more contented and constant, than such a 
 couple ; nor is there any greater temporal felicity 
 than to be one of them. 
 
 Between a man and his wife, nothing ought to 
 rule but love. Authority is for children and ser- 
 vants ; yet not without sweetness. 
 
 As love ought to bring them together, so it is the 
 best way to keep them well together. 
 
 Wherefore use not thy wife as a servant, whom 
 thou wouldst, perhaps, have served seven years to 
 have obtained. 
 
 A husband and wife that love and value one 
 another, shew their children and servants that 
 they should do so too. Others visibly lose their 
 authority in their families by their contempt of 
 one another, and teach their children to be unna- 
 tural by their own examples. 
 
 It is a general fault, not to be more careful to 
 
165 
 
 preserve nature in children : who, at least in the 
 second descent, hardly have a feeling of their rela- 
 tion : which must be an unpleasant reflection to 
 affectionate parents. 
 
 Frequent visits, presents, intimate correspond- 
 ence, and intermarriages within allowed bounds, 
 are means of keeping up the concern and affection 
 that nature requires from relations. 
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 Friendship is the next pleasure we may hopo 
 for : and where we find it not at home, or have no 
 home to find it in, we may seek it abroad. It is an 
 union of spirits, a marriage of hearts, and the bond 
 thereof virtue. 
 
 There can be no friendship where there is no 
 freedom. Friendship loves a free air, and will not 
 be penned up in straight and narrow inclosures. 
 It will speak freely, and act so too ; and take no- 
 thing ill, where no ill is meant ; nay, where it is, 
 it will easily forgive, and forget loo, upon small 
 acknow ledgments. 
 
 Friends are true twins in soul ; they sympathize 
 in every thing, and have the same love and aversion. 
 
166 
 
 One is not happy without the other; nor can 
 either of them be miserable alone. As if they 
 could change bodies, they take their turns in pain 
 as well as in pleasure ; relieving one another in 
 their most adverse conditions. 
 
 What one enjoys the other cannot want. Like 
 the primitive Christians, they have all things in 
 common, and no property, but in one another. 
 
 QUALITIES OP A FRIEND. 
 A true friend unbosoms freely, advises justly, as- 
 sists readily, adventures boldly, takes all patiently, 
 defends courageously, and continues a friend un- 
 changeably. 
 
 These being the qualities of a friend, we are to 
 find them, before we choose one. 
 
 The covetous, the angry, the proud, the jealous, 
 the talkative, cannot but make ill friends as well 
 as false ones. 
 
 In short, choose a friend as thou dost a wife, till 
 death separate you. 
 
 Yet be not a friend beyond the altar, but let vir- 
 tue bound thy friendship ; else it is not friendship, 
 but an evil confederacy. 
 
167 
 
 If my brother, or kinsman, will be niy t'ricnti, 1 
 onght to prefer him before a stranger; or I siie^ 
 little duty or nature to my parents. 
 
 And as we ought to prefer our kindred in point 
 of affection, so too in point of charity, if equally 
 needing and deserving. 
 
 CAUTION AND CONDUCT. 
 
 Be not easily acquainted ; lest finding reason to 
 cool, thou shouldst make an enemy instead of a 
 good neighbour. 
 
 Be reserved, but not sour ; grave, but not formal ; 
 bold, but not rash ; humble, but not servile ; patient, 
 not insensible ; constant, not obstinate ; cheerful, 
 not light ; rather sweet, than familiar ; familiar, 
 than intimate ; and intimate with very few, and 
 upon very good grounds. 
 
 Return the civilities thou receivest ; and be ever 
 grateful for favours. 
 
 REPARATION. 
 If thou hast done an injury to another, rather 
 own it than defend it. One way thou gaiuest for- 
 giveness; the other, thou doiiblcst the wrong and 
 reckoning. 
 
168 
 
 Some oppose bouuiii to Eubinb&iou; but it can be 
 nuhoiiour to maintain, what it is dishonourable to do. 
 
 To confess a fault that is none, out of fear, is in- 
 deed mean: but not to be afraid of standing in one, 
 is brutish. 
 
 We should make more haste to right onr neigh- 
 bour, than we do to wrong him; and instead of 
 being vindictive, we should leave him to judge of 
 his own satisfaction. 
 
 True honour will pay treble damages, rather 
 than justify one wrong by another. 
 
 In controversies, it is but too common for some 
 persons to say, " Both are to blame," to excuse 
 their own unconceruedness ; which is a base neutra- 
 lity. Others will cry, " They are both alike ;" 
 thereby involving the injured with the guilty, to 
 mince the matter for the faulty, or cover their 
 own injustice to the wronged party. 
 
 Fear and gain are great perverters of mankind : 
 and where either prevails, the judgment is violated. 
 
 RULES OF CONVERSATION. 
 Avoid company, where it is not profitable or 
 necessary: and on those occasions, speak little, 
 and last. 
 
169 
 
 Sileuce ii wisdom wlierc .speakiug is fully, and 
 always safe. 
 
 Some are so foolish, as to interrupt and antici- 
 pate those that speak, instead of hcarini; and think- 
 ing before they answer : a practise as uncivil, as it 
 is silly. 
 
 If thou thinkest twice before thou speakest once, 
 thou wilt speak twice the better for it. 
 
 Better say nothing than not to the purpose. And 
 to speak pertinently, consider both what is fit, and 
 when it is fit to speak. 
 
 In all debates let tnUh be thy aim ; not victory, 
 or an unjust interest : and endeavour to gain, thy 
 antagonist, rather than to expose him. 
 
 Give no advantage in argument, nor lose any 
 that is oflfered. This is a benefit which arises from 
 temper. 
 
 Do not use thyself to dispute against thine own 
 judgment, to shew wit ; lest it prepare thee to be 
 too indifferent about what is right : nor against 
 another man, to vex him, or for mere trial of skill; 
 since to inform, or to be informed, ought to be the 
 end of all conferences. 
 
 Men are too apt to be more concerned for their 
 credit than for the cause. 
 
170 
 
 ELOQUENCE. 
 
 There is a truth and beauty in rhetoric; but it 
 oftener serves ill turns than good ones. 
 
 Elegancy is a good mien and address given to 
 matter, be it by proper or by figurative speech : 
 where the words are apt, and allusions very natural, 
 certainly it has a moving grace ; but it is too artifi- 
 cial for simplicity, and oftentimes for truth. The 
 danger is, lest it delude the weak; who, in such 
 cases, may mistake the handmaid for the mistress, 
 if not error for truth. 
 
 It is certain, truth is least indebted to it, because 
 she has least need of it, and least uses it. 
 
 Buc it is a reprovable delicacy in men to despise 
 truth in plain clothes. 
 
 Such luxuriants have but false appetites; like 
 those gluttons, that by sauces force them, where 
 they have no stomach : and sacrifice to their palate, 
 not their health, which cannot be, without great 
 vanity ; nor that without some sin. 
 
 TEMPER. 
 
 Nothing does reason more benefit, than the 
 coolness of those that offer it: for truth often suffers 
 
171 
 
 more by the heat of its defenders, than from the 
 arguments of its opposers. 
 
 Zeal ever follows an appearance of truth, and 
 the assured are too apt to be warm ; but it is their 
 weak side in argument : zeal being better shewn 
 against sin, than persons, or their mistakes. 
 
 TRUTH. 
 
 Where thou art obliged to speak, be sure to 
 speak the truth : for equivocation is half-way to 
 lying ; as lying, the whole way to hell. 
 
 JUSTICE. 
 
 Believe nothing against another, but upon good 
 authority : nor report what may hnrt another, un- 
 less it be a greater hurt to others to conceal it. 
 
 SECRECY. 
 
 It is wise not to seek a secret : and honest not 
 to reveal one. 
 
 Trust thyself only, and another shall not betray 
 thee. 
 
172 
 
 Openness has the mischief, though not the malice 
 of treachery, 
 
 COMPLACENCY. 
 Never assent merely to please others. For that 
 is, besides flattery, often-times untrath; and dis- 
 covers a mind liable to be servile and base : nor 
 contradict to vex others; for that shews an ill- 
 temper, and provokes, but profits nobody. 
 
 SHIFTS. 
 
 Do not accuse others to excnse thyself; for that 
 is neither generous nor just. But let sincerity and 
 ingenuousness be thy refuge, rather than craft and 
 falsehood : for cunning borders very near upon 
 knavery. 
 
 Wisdom never uses nor wants it. Cunning to 
 wisdom, is as an ape to a man. 
 
 INTEREST. 
 Interest has the security, though not the vir- 
 tue, of a principle. As the world goes, it is the 
 surest side ; for men daily leave both relations and 
 religion to follow it. 
 
173 
 
 It is an odd siglit, but a very common one, that 
 families and nations of cross religions and humour* 
 unite against those of their own, where tliey fin<l 
 an interest to do it. 
 
 We are tied down by our senses to this world; 
 and where that is in question, it can be none with 
 worldly men, whether they should not forsake all 
 other considerations for it. 
 
 INQUIRY. 
 
 Have a care of vulgar errors. Dislike, as well 
 as allow, reasonably. 
 
 Inquiry is human ; blind obedience is brutal. 
 Truth never loses by the one, but often suffers by 
 the other. 
 
 The most useful truths are the plainest : and 
 while we keep to them, our ditfercnces cannot rise 
 high. 
 
 There may be a wantonness in search, as well 
 as a stupidity in trusting. It is great wisdom 
 equally to avoid the extremes. 
 
 RIGHT TIMING. 
 
 Do nothing improperly. Some are witty, kind. 
 
174 
 
 cold, angry, easy, stiff, jealous, careless, caQtioas, 
 confident, close, open, but all in the wrong place. 
 
 It is ill mistaking, where the matter is of impor- 
 tance. 
 
 It is not enough that the thing be right, if it be 
 not fit to be done. If not prudent,, though just, it 
 is not adviseable. He that loses by getting, had 
 better lose than get. 
 
 KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 Knowledge is the treasure, but judgment the 
 treasurer of a wise man. 
 
 He that has more knowledge than judgment, is 
 made for another man's use, more than for his own. 
 
 That cannot be a good constitution, where the 
 appetite is great, and the digestion weak. 
 
 There are some men, like dictionaries, to be 
 looked into upon occasion ; but who have no con- 
 nection, and are little entertaining. 
 
 Less knowledge than judgment will always have 
 the advantage over the injudicious knowing man. 
 
 A wise man makes what he learns his own ; the 
 other shews he is but a copy, or a collection at most. 
 
175 
 
 WIT. 
 
 Wit is a bappy and striking way of expressing 
 a thought. 
 
 It is not often though it be lively and mantling, 
 that it carries a great body with it. 
 
 Wit is therefore fitter for diversion than business, 
 being more grateful to the fancy than the judgment. 
 
 Less judgment than wit, is more sail than ballast. 
 
 Yet it must be confessed, that wit gives an edge 
 to sense, and recommends it extremely. 
 
 Where judgment has wit to express it, there is 
 the best orator. 
 
 OBEDIENCE TO PARENTS. 
 
 If thou wouldst be obeyed, being a father ; being 
 a son, be obedient. 
 
 He that begets thee, owns thee ; and has a natural 
 right over thee. 
 
 Next to God, are thy parents ; next to Ihem, the 
 magistrate. 
 
 Remember that thou art not more indebted to 
 thy parents for thy nature, than for their love 
 and care. 
 
 Rebellion therefore in children was made death 
 
176 
 
 by God's law, and in the people, the next sin to 
 idolatry, which is renouncing of God, the great 
 parent of all. 
 
 Obedience to parents is not only our duty, but 
 our interest. If we received our life from them, 
 we prolong it by obeying them ; for obedience is 
 the first commandment with promise. 
 
 The obligation is as indissoluble as the relation. 
 
 If we must not disobey God to obey them, at 
 least we must let them see, that there is nothing 
 else in our refusal ; for some unjust commands 
 cannot excuse the general neglect of our duty. 
 They will be our parents, and we must be their 
 children still : and if we cannot act for them 
 against God, neither can we act against them for 
 ourselves, or for any thing else. 
 
 BEARING. 
 
 A man of business must put up many affronts if 
 he loves his own quiet. 
 
 We must not pretend to see all that we see, if 
 we would be easy. 
 
 It were endless to dispute upon every thing that 
 is disputable. 
 
177 
 
 A vindictive temper is not only uneasy to others, 
 but to them that iiavc it. 
 
 PROMISING. 
 
 Rarely promise : but, if lawful, constantly per- 
 form. 
 
 Hasty resolutions are of the nature of vows ; and 
 to be equally avoided. 
 
 " I will never do this," says one, yet does it. " I 
 am resolved to do that," says another ; but flags 
 upon second thoughts: or does it, though awkward- 
 ly, for his word's sake ; as if it were worse to break 
 his word, than to do amiss in keeping it. 
 
 Wear none of thine own chains ; but keep free, 
 whilst thou art free. 
 
 To lay thyself under resolutions that cannot be 
 well made, and are yet worse if performed, is an 
 •'ffect of passion, which wisdom corrects. 
 
 FIDELITY. 
 
 Avoid, all thou canst, being entrusted ; but do 
 thy utmost to discharge the trust thou hast under- 
 taken : for carelessness is injurious, if not unjust. 
 N 
 
178 
 
 The glory of a servant is fidelity ; wbich cannot 
 be without diligence, as well as truth. 
 
 Fidelity has enfranchised slaves, and adopted 
 servants to be sons. 
 
 Reward a good servant well: and rather quit 
 than disquiet thyself with an ill one. 
 
 MASTER. 
 
 Mix kindness with authority: and rule more by 
 discretion than rigour. 
 
 If thy servant be faulty, strive rather to convince 
 him of his error, than discover thy passion : and 
 when be is sensible forgive him. 
 
 Remember he is thy fellow-creature; and that 
 Go<rs goodness, not thy merit, has made the differ- 
 ence betwixt thee and him. 
 
 Let not thy children domineer over thy servants; 
 nor suffer thy servants to slight thy children. 
 
 Suppress tales in the general; but where a mat- 
 ter requires notice, encourage the complaint, and 
 right the aggrieved. 
 
 If a child, he ought to entreat, and not to com- 
 mand ; and if a servant, to comply, where he docs 
 not obey. 
 
 Thongb there sbonld be but one master and mis- 
 
179 
 
 ties8 iu a family, yet servants should know that 
 children have the reversion. 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 Indulge not thy master's children, in unseemly 
 things, nor refuse them what is fitting : for the one 
 is the highest unfaithfulness, and the other indis- 
 cretion, as well as disrespect. 
 
 Do thine own work honestly and cheerfully ; and 
 when that is done, help thy fellow, that so another 
 time he may help thee. 
 
 If thou wilt be a good servant, thou must be 
 true ; and thou canst not be true, if thou defraudest 
 thy master. 
 
 A master may be defrauded in many ways by a 
 servant : as in time, care, pains, money, trust. 
 
 But, a true servant is the contrary : he is dili- 
 gent, careful, trusty. He tells no tales, reveals no 
 secrets, refuses no pains, is not to be tempted by 
 gain, or awed by fear, to unfaithfulness. 
 
 Such a servant serves God, in serving his mas- 
 ter ; and has double wages for his work, to wit, 
 here and hereafter. 
 
 N 2 
 
180 
 
 JEALOUSY. 
 
 Be not fancifully jealous, for that is foolish; as 
 lo be reasonably so is wise. 
 
 He that superfines upon other men's actions, 
 cozens himself, as well as injures them. 
 
 To be very subtle and scrupulous in business is as 
 hurtful, as being over confident and secure. 
 
 In difficult cases such a temper is timorous, and 
 in dispatch, irresolute. 
 
 Experience is a safe guide ; and a practical head 
 is a great happiness in business. 
 
 POSTERITY. 
 
 We are too careless of posterity; not considering 
 that as they are, so the next generation will be. 
 
 If we would amend the world, we should mend 
 ourselves ; and teach our children to be, not what 
 we are, but what they should be. 
 
 We are too apt to awaken and tunc up their 
 passions by tlic example of our own ; and to teacli 
 ihera to be pleased, not wilh what is best, but with 
 what pleases best. 
 
 It is our duty, and ouglit to be our care, lo ward 
 against that passion in them, which is more cspc- 
 
181 
 
 cially oar own weakness and affliction : for we arc 
 in great measure accountable for them, as well as 
 for ourselves. 
 
 We are in this, also, true turners of the world 
 upside down : for money is first, and virtue last, 
 and least in our care. 
 
 It is not how we leave our children, but what 
 we leave them. 
 
 To be sure, virtue is but a supplement, and not a 
 principal, in their portion and character ! and 
 therefore we see so little wisdom or goodness 
 among the rich, in proportion to their wealth. 
 
 A COUNTRY LIFE. 
 
 The country life is to be preferred, for there we 
 see the works of God ; but in cities, little else but 
 the works of men : and the one makes a better 
 subject for our contemplation than the other. 
 
 As puppets arc to men, and babies to children; 
 so is man's workmanship to God's : we are the 
 picture, he the reality. 
 
 God's works declare his power, wisdom, an(J 
 goodness ; but man's works, for the most part, his 
 pride, folly, and excess. The one is for use, the 
 other, chiefly, for ostentation and lust. 
 
182 
 
 The country is both the philosopher's garden and 
 library, in which he reads and contemplates the 
 power, wisdom, and goodness of God. 
 
 It is his food, as well as study ; and gives him 
 life as well as learning. 
 
 A sweet and natural retreat from noise and talk, 
 and allows opportunity for reflection, and gives the 
 best subjects for it. 
 
 In short, it is an original, and the knowledge and 
 improvement of it man's oldest business and trade, 
 and the best he can be of. 
 
 ART AND PROJECT. 
 Art is good, where it is beneficial. Socrates 
 wisely bounded his knowledge and instruction by 
 practice. 
 
 Have a care, therefore, of projects ; and yet de- 
 spise nothing rashly, or in the lump. 
 
 Ingenuity, as well as religion, sometimes suffers 
 between two tliieves : pretenders and despisers. 
 
 Though injudicious and dishonest projectors often 
 discredit art ; yet the most useful and extraordi- 
 nary inventions have not, at first, escaped the scorn 
 of ignorance; as their authors rarely have cracking 
 of their heads, or breaking of their backs. 
 
183 
 
 Undertake no experiment in speculation, that ap- 
 pears not true in art; nor then, at thine own cost, 
 if costly or hazardous in inakino;. 
 
 As many hands make light work ; so several 
 purses make cheap experiments. 
 
 INDUSTRY. 
 
 Industry is certainly very commendable, and 
 supplies the want of parts. 
 
 Patience and diligence, like faith, remove 
 mountains. 
 
 Never give out while there is hope ; but hope 
 not beyond reason : for that shews more desire 
 than judgment. 
 
 It is a profitable wisdom, to know when we have 
 done enough : much time and pains are spared, in 
 not flattering ourselves against probabilities. 
 
 TEMPORAL HAPPINESS. 
 Do good with what thou hast, or it will do thee 
 no good . 
 
 Seek not to be rich, but happy. The one lies in 
 bags, the other in content ; which wealth can never 
 give. 
 
184 
 
 We are apt to call things by wrong names. We 
 will have prosperity to be happiness, and adversity 
 to be misery ; though that is the school of wisdom, 
 and oftentimes the way to eternal happiness. 
 
 If thon wonldst be happy, bring thy mind to thy 
 condition, and have an indifferency for more than 
 what is sufficient. 
 
 Have but little to do, and do it thyself : and do to 
 others as thou wouldst have them do to thee : so 
 thou canst not fail of temporal felicity. 
 
 The generality are the worse for their plenty. 
 The voluptuous consumes it, the miser hides it ; it 
 is the good man that uses it, and to good purposes. 
 But such are hardly found among the prosperous. 
 
 Be rather bountiful than expensive. 
 
 Neither make nor go to feasts, but let the laborious 
 poor bless thee at home in their solitary cottages. 
 
 Never voluntarily want what thou hast in posses- 
 sion ; nor so spend it, as to involve thyself in want 
 unavoidable. 
 
 Be not tempted to presume by success ; for many, 
 tliat have got largely, have lost all by coveting to 
 get more. 
 
 To hazard much to get much, has more of avarice 
 than wisdom. 
 
185 
 
 It is great prudence, both to bound and use pros- 
 perity. 
 
 Too few know when they have enough ; and 
 fewer know how to employ it. 
 
 It is equally advisable not to part lightly with 
 what is hardly gotten, and not to shut up closely 
 what flows in freely. 
 
 Act not the shark upon thy neighbour ; nor take 
 advantage of the ignorance, prodigality, or necessity 
 of anyone : for that is next door to a fraud, and, 
 at best, makes but an unblessed gain. 
 
 It is oftentimes the judgment of God upon greedy 
 rich men, that he suffers them to push on their de- 
 sires of wealth to the excess of over-reaching, 
 grinding, or oppression, which poisons all they 
 have gotten : so that it commonly runs away as 
 fast, and by as bad ways, as it was heaped up 
 together. 
 
 RESPECT. 
 
 Never esteem any man, or thyself, the more for 
 money ; nor think the meaner of thyself, or ano- 
 theri for want of it : virtue being the just reason 
 of respecting, and the want of it of slighting any 
 one. 
 
186 
 
 A man, like a watch, is to be valued for his 
 goings. 
 
 He that prefers him on other accounts, bows to 
 an idol. 
 
 Unless virtue guide us, our choice must be wrong. 
 
 An able bad man is an ill instrument, and to be 
 shunned as the plague. 
 
 Be not deceived with the first appearances of 
 things ; but give thyself time to be in the right. 
 
 Show is not substance : realities govern wise men. 
 
 Have a care, therefore, where there is more sail 
 than ballast. 
 
 HAZARD. 
 
 In all business, it is best to put nothing to 
 hazard : but where it is unavoidable, be not rash, 
 but firm and resigned. 
 
 We should not be troubled for what we cannot 
 help : but if it were our fault, let it be so no more. 
 Amendment is repentance, if not reparation. 
 
 As a desperate game needs an able gamester ; so 
 consideration often would prevent, what the best 
 skill in the world cannot recover. 
 
 Where the probability of advantage exceeds not 
 that of loss, wisdom never adventures. 
 
187 
 
 To shoot well flying, is well; but to choo?c i(, 
 has more of vanity than judgment. 
 
 To be dexterous in danger, is a virtue ; but to 
 court danger to show it, is weakness. 
 
 DETRACTION. 
 
 Have a care of that base evil, detraction. It is 
 the fruit of envy, as that is of pride, the imme- 
 diate offspring of the devil, who of an angel, a 
 Lucifer, a son of the morning, made himself a 
 serpent, a devil, a Beelzebub, and all that is ob- 
 noxious to the Eternal Goodness. 
 
 Virtue is not secure against envy. Men will 
 lessen what they will not imitate. 
 
 Dislike what deserves it ; but never hate, for that 
 is of the nature of malice ; which is almost ever to 
 persons, not things ; and is one of the blackest 
 qualities sin begets in the soul. 
 
 MODERATION. 
 It were an happy day, if men could bound and 
 qualify their resentments with charity to the offend- 
 er : for then our anger would be without sin, and 
 better convict and edify the guilty ; which alone 
 can make it lawful. 
 
188 
 
 Not to be provoked is best ; bat if moved, never 
 correct till the fume is spent ; for every stroke our 
 fury strikes, is sure to hit ourselves at last. 
 
 If we did but observe the allowances our reason 
 makes upon reflection, when our passion is over, 
 we could not want a rule how to behave ourselves 
 again on the like occasions. 
 
 We are more prone to complain than redress, and 
 to censure than excuse. 
 
 It is next to unpardonable, that we can so often 
 blame what we will not once mend. It shows that 
 we know, but will not do, our Master's will. 
 
 They that censure, should practice ; or else, let 
 them have the first stone, and the last too. 
 
 TRICK. 
 
 Nothing needs a trick, but a trick; sincerity 
 loaths one. 
 
 We must take care to do things rightly : for a 
 just sentence may be unjustly executed. 
 
 Circumstances give great light to true judgment, 
 if well weighed. 
 
 PASSION. 
 
 Passion is a sort of fever in the mind, which 
 ever leaves us weaker than it found us. 
 
189 
 
 But, being intermitting, to be sure it is curable 
 with care. 
 
 It, more than any thing, deprives us of the use 
 of our judgment ; for it raises a dust very hard to 
 see through. 
 
 Like wine, wliose lees fly up, being jogged, it is 
 too muddy to drink. 
 
 It may not unfltly be termed the mob of the man, 
 that commits a riot on his reason. 
 
 I have oftentimes thought, that a passionate man 
 is like a weak spring, that cannot stand long locked. 
 
 And it is as true, that those things are unfit for 
 use, that cannot bear small knocks without breaking. 
 
 He that will not hear cannot judge; and he that 
 cannot bear contradiction, may with all his wit, 
 miss the mark. 
 
 Objection and debate sift out truth ; which needs 
 temper as well as judgment. 
 
 But above all, observe it in resentments ; for 
 there passion is most extravagant. 
 
 Never chide for anger, but instruction. 
 
 He that corrects out of passion, raises revenge 
 •ooner than repentance. 
 
 It has more of wantonness than wisdom; and re- 
 sembles those that eat to please their palate rather 
 than their appetite. 
 
190 
 
 It is the difference between a wise and a weak 
 man; this judges by the lump, that by parts, and 
 their connection. 
 
 The Greeks used to say, " All cases arc governed 
 by their circumstances." The same thing may be 
 well and ill, as they change or vary the matter. 
 
 A man's strength is shewn by his bearing. Bonum 
 agere, et mali pati, regis est. 
 
 PERSONAL CAUTION. 
 
 Reflect without malice, but never without need. 
 
 Despise no body, nor any condition ; lest it come 
 to be thine own. 
 
 Never rail, nor taunt. The one is rude, the other 
 is scornful, and both evil. 
 
 Be not provoked by injuries, to commit them. 
 
 Upbraid only ingratitude. 
 
 Haste makes work, which caution prevents. 
 
 Tempt no man ; lest thou fall for it. 
 
 Have a care of presuming upon after-games ; for 
 if that miss, all is gone. 
 
 Opportunities should never be lost, because they 
 can hardly be regained. 
 
 It is well to cure, but better to prevent a distcm- 
 
191 
 
 per. The first shows more skill, but the last more 
 wisdom. 
 
 Never make a trial of skill in difficult or hazard- 
 ous cases. 
 
 Refuse not to be informed : for that shews pride 
 or stupidity. 
 
 Humility and knowledge in poor clothes, excel 
 pride and ignorance in costly attire. 
 
 Neither despise, nor oppose, what thou dost not 
 understand. 
 
 BALANCE. 
 
 We must not be concerned above the value of 
 the thing that engages ns; nor raised above reason, 
 in maintaining what we think reasonable. 
 
 It is too common an error, to invert the order of 
 things, by making an end of that which is a means, 
 and a means of that which is an end. 
 
 Religion and government escape not this mis- 
 chief : the first is too often made a means, instead 
 of an end, the other an end, instead of a means. 
 
 Thus men seek wealth, rather than subsistence ; 
 and the end of clothes is the last reason for 
 theii- use. Nor is the satisfying of our appetite 
 our end in eating, so much as the pleasing our 
 
192 
 
 palate. The like may also be said of building, 
 furniture, &c. where the man rules not the beast, 
 and appetite submits not to reason. 
 
 It is great wisdom to proportion our esteem to 
 the nature of the thing ; for as that way things will 
 not be undervalued, so neither will they engage us 
 above their intrinsic worth. 
 
 If we suflFer little things to have great hold upon 
 us, we shall be as much transported for them, as if 
 they deserved it. 
 
 It is an old proverb. Maxima bella ex levissimig 
 causis; The greatest feuds have had the smallest 
 beginnings. 
 
 No matter what the subject of the dispute be, 
 but what place we give it in our minds ; for that 
 governs our concern and resentment. 
 
 It is one of the most fatal errors of our lives, when 
 we spoil a good cause by an ill management : and 
 it is not impossible but we may mean well in an 
 ill business ; but that will not defend it. 
 
 If we are but sure the end is right, we are too 
 apt to gallop over all bounds to compass it : not 
 considering that lawful ends may be very unlaw- 
 fully attained. 
 
 Let us be careful to take just ways to compass 
 
193 
 
 just things ; that they may last in tlieir benefits to 
 us. 
 
 There is a troublesome humour some men have, 
 that if tiiey may not lead, they will not follow ; 
 but had rather a thing were never done, than not 
 done their own way, though otherwise very desi- 
 rable. 
 
 This comes of an overfulness of ourselves, and 
 shews we are more concerned for praise, than the 
 success of what we think a good thing. 
 
 POPULARITY. 
 
 Affect not to be seen, and men will less see 
 thy weakness. 
 
 They that shew more than they are, raise an 
 expectation they cannot answer ; and so lose their 
 credit as soon as they are found out. 
 
 Avoid popularity. It has many snares, and tio 
 real benefit to thyself; and uncertainty to others. 
 
 PRIVACY. 
 
 Remember the proverb, Bene qui latuit, bene 
 wtxt^,.— They are happy that live retiredly. 
 
 If this be true, princes and their grandees, of all 
 O 
 
194 
 
 men, are the unhappiest; for they live least alone : 
 and they tliat must be enjoyed by every body, can 
 never enjoy themselves as they should. 
 
 It is the advantage little men have upon them : 
 they can be private, and have leisure for family 
 comforts, which are the greatest worldly contents 
 men can enjoy. 
 
 But they that place pleasure in greatness, seek it 
 there ; and, we see, rule is as much the ambition 
 of some natures, as privacy is the choice of others. 
 
 GOVERNMENT. 
 
 Government has many shapes; but it is sove- 
 reignty, though not freedom, in all of them. 
 
 Rex and Tyrannus are very different characters: 
 one rules his people by laws, to which they consent; 
 the other by his absolute will and power. That is 
 called freedom; this, tyranny. 
 
 The first is endangered by the ambition of the 
 populace, which shakes the coi|stitution ; the other 
 by an ill administration, which hazards the tyrant 
 and his family. 
 
 It is great wisdom, in princes of both sorts, not 
 to strain points too high with their people; for 
 
195 
 
 whether the people have a right to oppose them or 
 not, they are ever sure to attempt it, when thingn 
 are carried too far : though the remedy oftentimes 
 proves worse than the disease. 
 
 Happy that king who is great by justice, and 
 that people who are free by obedience. 
 
 Where the ruler is just, he may be strict; else it 
 is two to one it turns upon him : and though he 
 should prevail, he can be no gainer, where hi? 
 people are the losers. 
 
 Princes must not have passions in government, 
 nor resent beyond interest and religion. 
 
 Where example keeps pace with authority, 
 power hardly fails to be obeyed, and magistrates 
 to be honored. 
 
 Let the people think they govern, and they will 
 be governed. 
 
 This cannot fail, if those they trust are trusted. 
 
 That prince who is just to them in great things, 
 and humours them oftentimes in small ones, is 
 sure to have and keep them from all the world. 
 
 For the people is the politic wife of the prince, 
 that may be better managed by wisdom, than 
 ruled by force. 
 
 But where the magistrate is partial, and serves 
 O 2 
 
196 
 
 ill turns, he loses his authority with the people, 
 and gives the populace opportunity to gratify their 
 ambition : and so lays a stumbling-block for his 
 people to fall. 
 
 It is true, that where a subject is more popular 
 than the prince, the prince is in danger; but it is 
 as true, that it is his own fault : for nobody has the 
 like means, interest, or reason, to be popular, as he. 
 
 It is an unaccountable thing, that some princes 
 incline rather to be feared than loved, when they 
 see, that fear does not oftener secure a prince, 
 against the dissatisfaction of his people, than love 
 makes a subject too many for such a prince. 
 
 Certainly, service upon inclination is like to go 
 farther than obedience upon compulsion. 
 
 The Romans had a just sense of this, when they 
 placed Optimus before Maximus, to their most 
 illustrious captains and Caesars. 
 
 Besides, experience tells us that goodness raises 
 a nobler passion in the soul, and gives a better 
 sense of duty, than severity. 
 
 What did Pharaoh get by increasing the Israel- 
 ites' task ? Ruin to himself in the end. 
 
 Kings chiefly in this, should imitate God ; Jhcir 
 mercy should be above all their works. 
 
 The difference between the prince and the pea- 
 
197 
 
 sant is in this world ; but a temper ought to be 
 observed by him that has the advanage here, 
 because of the judgment of the next. 
 
 The end of every thing should direct the means : 
 now that of government being the good of the 
 whole, nothing less should be the aim of the prince. 
 
 As often as rulers endeavour to attain just ends 
 by just mediums, they are sure of a quiet and easy 
 government ; and as sure of convulsions, where the 
 nature of things is violated, and their order over- 
 ruled. 
 
 It is certain, princes ought to have great allow- 
 ances made them for faults in government, since 
 they see by other people's eyes, and hear by their 
 ears : but ministers of state, their immediate con- 
 fidants, and instruments, have much to answer for, 
 if, to gratify private passions, they misguide the 
 prince to do public injury. 
 
 Ministers of state should undertake their posts at 
 their peril. If princes overrule them let them show 
 the law, and humbly resign ; if fear, gain, or 
 flattery prevail, let them answer it to the law. 
 
 The prince cannot be preserved, but where the 
 minister is pimishable ; for people, as well a& 
 princes, will not endure "iinperium in imperio." 
 
198 
 
 If ministers are weak or ill men, and bo spoil 
 their places, it is the prince's fault that chose 
 them ; but if their places spoil them, it is their own 
 fault to be made worse by them. 
 
 It is but just that those that reign by their 
 princes, should suffer for their princes : for it is a 
 safe and necessary maxim, not to shift hands in 
 government, while the heads are in being that 
 should answer for them. 
 
 And yet it were intolerable to be a minister of 
 state, if every body may be accuser and judge. 
 
 Let, therefore, the false accuser no more escape 
 an exemplary punishment, than the guilty minister. 
 
 For it profanes government to have the credit of 
 the leading men in it subject to vulgar censnre, 
 which is often ill grounded. 
 
 The safety of a prince, therefore, consists in a 
 well chosen council : and that only can be said to 
 be 80, where the persons that compose it are quali- 
 fied for the business that comes before them. 
 
 Who would send to a tailor to make a lock, or to 
 a smith to make a suit of clothes ? 
 
 Let there be merchants for trade, seamen for the 
 admiralty, travellers for foreign affairs, some of the 
 leading men of the country for home business, and 
 
199 
 
 commou ami civil lawyers to advise of legality ami 
 right. Mho should always keep to the strict rules 
 of law. 
 
 Three tilings contribute much to ruin ^overn- 
 raent ; looseness, oppression, and envy. 
 
 Where the reins of government are too slack, 
 there the manners of the people are corrupted : and 
 that destroys industry, begets etfeminacy, and pro- 
 vokes heaven against it. 
 
 Oppression makes a poor country, and a despe- 
 rate people, who always wait an opportunity to 
 change. 
 
 " He that ruleth over men must be just, ruling 
 in the fear of God;" said an old and wise king. 
 
 Envy disturbs and distracts government, clogs 
 the wheels, and perplexes the administration ; and 
 nothing contributes more to this disorder, tlian a 
 partial distribution of rewards and punishments in 
 the sovereign. 
 
 As it is not reasonable that men should be com- 
 pelled to serve ; so those that have employments 
 should not be endured to leave them humoursomely. 
 
 Where the state intends a man no attVont, lie 
 should not affront the state. 
 
200 
 
 A PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 A PRIVATE life is to be preferred; ihe honor and 
 gain of pablic posts bearing no proportion with the 
 comfort of it. The one is free and quiet, the other 
 'crvile and noisy. 
 
 It was a great answer of the Sbunamite woman, 
 " I dwell among my own people." 
 
 They that live of their own, neither need, nor 
 often list, to wear the livery of the public. 
 
 Their subsistence is not daring pleasure, nor have 
 they patrons to please or present. 
 
 If they are not advanced neither can they be 
 disgraced ; and as they know not the smiles of 
 majesty, so they feel not the frowns of greatness, 
 or the effects of envy. 
 
 If they want the pleasures of a court, they also 
 < i-cape the temptations of it. 
 
 Private men, in tine, are so much their own, 
 that, paying common dues, they are sovereigns of 
 ail the rest. 
 
 A PUBLIC LIFE. 
 Y£T the public must and will be served; and 
 they that do it well, deserve public marks of honor 
 and profit. 
 
•20 i 
 
 To <lo so, iiicu must liave public luiiuls, as will 
 as salaries ; or they will serve private ends at the 
 public cost, 
 
 Goveruments can uever be well adniiuislere'l, 
 but where those entrusted make conscience of well 
 discharging their places. 
 
 QUALIFICATIONS. 
 Five things are requisite to a good otficer ; ability, 
 clean hands, despatch, patience, and impartiality. 
 
 CAPACITY, 
 
 He that understands not his employment, what- 
 ever else he knovrs, must be unfit for it ; and the 
 public sutler by his inexpertness. 
 
 They that are able should be just too; or the 
 government may be the worse for their capacity. 
 
 CLEAN HANDS. 
 CovETOusNESs in such men prompts them to 
 prostitute the public for gain. 
 The taking of a bribe, or gratuity, should be 
 
202 
 
 punished with as severe penalties as the defrauding 
 of the state. 
 
 Let men have sufficient salaries, and exceed them 
 at their peril. 
 
 It is a dishonour to government, that its officers 
 should live of benevolence ; as it ought to be in- 
 famous for officers to dishonour the public, by 
 being twice paid for the same business. 
 
 But to be paid, and not to do business, is rank 
 oppression. 
 
 DESPATCH. 
 
 Despatch is a great and good quality in an 
 officer, where duty, not gain, excites it. But of 
 this too many make their private market, and over- 
 plus to their wages. Thus the salary is for doing, 
 and the bribe for despatching the business ; as if 
 business could be done before it were despatched ; 
 or they were to be paid apart, one by the govern- 
 ment, the other by the party. 
 
 Despatch is as much the duty of an officer, as do- 
 ing; and very much the honour of the government 
 be serves. 
 
 Delays have been more injurious than direct 
 injustice. 
 
203 
 
 They too often starve tliose they dare not deny. 
 The very winner is made a loser, because he pays 
 twice for his own ; like those tliat purchase estates, 
 mortgaged before to the full value. 
 
 Our law says well,— "To delay justice is in- 
 justice." 
 
 Not to have a right, and not to come at it, differ 
 little. 
 
 Refusal, or despatch, is the duty and wisdom of a 
 good officer. 
 
 PATIENCE. 
 
 Patiencb is a virtue every where ; but it shines 
 with greatest lustre in the men of government. 
 
 Some are so proud or testy, they will not hear 
 what they should redress. 
 
 Others so weak, they sink or burst under the 
 weight of their olfice ; though they can lightly run 
 away with the salary of it. 
 
 Business can never be well done, that is not well 
 understood : which cannot be without patience. 
 
 It is cruelty, indeed, not to give the unhappy a 
 hearing, whom we ought to help; but it is the top 
 of oppression to brow-beat the humble and modest 
 miserable, when they seek relief. 
 
204 
 
 Some, it is true, are unreasonable in their desires 
 and hopes; but then we should inform, not rail at 
 and reject them. 
 
 It is, therefore, as great an instance of wisdom as 
 a man in business can give, to be patient under the 
 impertinencies and contradictions that attend it. 
 
 Method goes far to prevent trouble in business : 
 for it makes the task easy, hinders confusion, saves 
 abundance of time, and instructs those that have 
 business depending, what to do, and what to hope, 
 
 IMPARTIALITY. 
 
 Impartiality, though it be the last, is not the 
 least part of the character of a good magistrate. 
 
 It is noted as a fault in holy writ, even to regard 
 the poor in judgment ; how much more the ricfi / 
 
 If our compassions must not sway us ; less should 
 our fears, profits, or prejudices. 
 
 Justice is justly represented blind, because she 
 sees no difference in the parties concerned. 
 
 She has but one scale and weight, for rich and 
 poor, great and small. 
 
 Her sentence is not guided by the person, but by 
 the cause. 
 
205 
 
 The impartial judge, in judgment, knows nothing 
 but the law; the prince, no more than tlie peasant; 
 his kindred, than a stranger. Nay, liis enemy is 
 sure to be upon equal terms with his friend, when 
 he is upon the bench. 
 
 Impartiality is the life of justice, as justice is of 
 government. 
 
 Nor is it only a benetit to the state ; for private 
 families cannot subsist comfortably without it. 
 
 Parents that are partial, are ill obeyed by their 
 children ; and partial masters not better served by 
 their servants. , 
 
 Partiality is always indirect, if not dishonest ; 
 for it shows a bias, where reason would have none ; 
 if not an injury, which justice every where forbids. 
 
 As it makes favourites without reason, so it uses 
 no reason in judging of actions : confirming the 
 proverb, " The crow thinks her own bird the 
 fairest." 
 
 What some see to be no fault in one, they will 
 have criminal in another. 
 
 Nay, how ugly do those failings look to us in the 
 persons of others, which yet we see not in ourselves. 
 
 And but too common it is, for some people not to 
 know their own maxims and principles in 4lie 
 
206 
 
 months of other men, when they give occasion to 
 use them. 
 
 Partiality corrupts our judgment of persons and 
 things, of ourselves and others. 
 
 It contributes more than any thing else to fac- 
 tions in the government, and feuds in families. 
 
 It is a prodigal passion, that seldom retnrns till it 
 is hunger-bit, and disappointments bring it within 
 bounds. 
 
 And yet we may be indifferent to a fault. 
 
 INDIFFERENCE. 
 
 Indifference is goo<l in judgment, but bad in 
 relation, and stark naught in religion. 
 
 And even in judgment, our indifference must be 
 to the persons, not to the causes ; for one is certain- 
 ly right. 
 
 NEUTRALITY. 
 
 Neutrality is something else than indifference; 
 and yet of kin to it too. 
 
 A judge ought to be indifferent ; and yet he can- 
 not be said to be neutral. 
 
207 
 
 The one being to be even in judgment, and the 
 other not to meddle at all. 
 
 And where it is lawful, it is certainly best to be 
 neutral. 
 
 He that espouses parlies, can hardly divorce 
 himself from their fate ; and more fall with their 
 party, than rise with it. 
 
 A wise neutral joins with neither ; but uses both, 
 as his honest interest leads him. 
 
 A neutral only has room to be a peace-maker : 
 for being of neither side, he has the means of me- 
 diating a reconciliation of both. 
 
 A PARTY. 
 
 And yet where right or religion gives a call, a 
 neutral must be a coward or a hypocrite. 
 
 In such cases we should never be backward, nor 
 yet mistaken. 
 
 When our right or our religion is in question, 
 then is the fittest time to assert it. 
 
 Nor must we always be neutral, where our 
 neighbour is concerned : for though meddling is a 
 fault, helping is a duty. 
 
208 
 
 We have a call to do good, as often as we have 
 the power and occasion. 
 
 If Heathens could say, " We are not born for 
 ourselves surely Christians should practice it. 
 
 They are taught so by His example, as well as 
 doctrine, from whom they have borrowed their 
 name. 
 
 OSTENTATION. 
 
 Do what good thou canst unknown ; and be not 
 vain of what ought rather to be felt than seen. 
 
 The humble, in the parable of the day of judg- 
 ment, forgot their good works, " Lord, when did 
 we 80 and so 1" 
 
 He that does good for good's sake, seeks neither 
 praise nor reward, though sure of both at last. 
 
 COMPLETE VIRTUE. 
 Content not thyself that thou art virtuous in the 
 general: for one link being wanting tlie chain is 
 defective. 
 
 Perhaps thou art rather innocent than virtuous, 
 and owest more to thy constitution tlian thy 
 religion. 
 
209 
 
 To be innocent is to be not guilty ; but to be vir- 
 tuous is to overcome our evil inclinations. 
 
 If thou hast not conquered thyself in that which 
 is thy own particular weakness, thou hast no title 
 to virtue, though thou art free from other men's 
 vices. 
 
 For a covetous man to inveigh against prodi- 
 gality, an atheist against idolatry, a tyrant against 
 rebellion, or a liar against forgery, and a drunkard 
 against intemperance, is for the pot to call the ket- 
 tle black. 
 
 Such reproof would have but little success, be- 
 cause it would carry but little authority with it. 
 
 If thou wouldst conquer thy weakness, thou must 
 never gratify it. 
 
 No man is compelled to evil ; his consent only 
 makes it his. 
 
 It is no sin to be tempted, bst to be overcome. 
 
 What man in his right mind, would conspire his 
 own hurt ? Men are beside themselves, when they 
 transgress against their convictions. 
 
 If thou wouldst not sin, do not desire ; if thou 
 wouldst not Inst, do not embrace the temptation ; 
 no, not look at it, nor think of it. 
 
 P 
 
210 
 
 Thou wouldst take niucb pains to save thy body , 
 take some, piithee, to save thy soul. 
 
 RELIGION. 
 
 Religion is the fear of God, and its demonstra- 
 tion good works ; and faith is the root of both : 
 " for without faith we cannot please God ;" nor 
 can we fear what we do not believe. 
 
 The devils also believe and know abundantly ; 
 but in this is the difference, their faith works not 
 by love, nor their knowledge by obedience ; and 
 therefore they are never the better for them. And 
 if ours be such, we shall be of their church not of 
 Christ's; for as the head is, so must the body be. 
 
 He was holy, humble, harmless, meek, and mer- 
 ciful, when among us ; to teach us what we should 
 be when he was gone : and yet he is among us 
 still, and in us too, a living and perpetual preacher 
 of the same grace, by his Spirit in oar consciences. 
 
 A minister of the gospel ought to be one of 
 Christ's making, if be would pass for one of 
 Christ's ministers. 
 
 And if he be one of his making, he knows and 
 does, as well as believes. 
 
211 
 
 That minister, whose life is not the model of his 
 doctrine, is a babbler rather than a preacher — a 
 quack rather than a physician of value. 
 
 Of old time they were made ministers by the 
 Holy Ghost : and the more that is an ingredient 
 now, the fitter they are for that work. 
 
 Running streams are not so apt to corrupt as 
 standing water, nor itinerent, as settled preachers : 
 but they are not to run before they are sent. 
 
 As they freely receive from Christ, so they give. 
 
 They will not make that a trade, which they 
 know ought not, in conscience, to be one. 
 
 Yet there is no fear of their living, that design 
 not to live by it. 
 
 The humble and true teacher meets with more 
 than he expects. 
 
 He accounts content with godliness great gain; 
 and be therefore seeks not to make a gain of gu<l- 
 liness. 
 
 As the ministers of Christ are made by him, and 
 are like him, so they beget people into the same 
 likeness. 
 
 To be like Cliiist, then, is to be a Christian. 
 And regeneration is the only way to the kingdom 
 (if God, which \vc pray for. 
 
 P 2 
 
21'2 
 
 Let us to-day, therefore, bear his voice, and not 
 harden our hearts, who speaks to us many ways : — 
 in the Scriptures, in our hearts, by bis servants 
 and providences — and the sum of all his holiness 
 and charity. 
 
 St. James gives a short draft of the matter, but 
 very full and teaching :— " Pure religion, and un- 
 defiled before God the Father, is this, to visit the 
 fatherless and the widow in their affliction, and to 
 keep ourselves unspotted from the world :" which 
 is comprised in these two words, charity and piety. 
 
 They who truly make these things their aim, 
 will find them their attainment ; and, with them, 
 the peace that follows so excellent a condition. 
 
 Amuse not thyself, therefore, with the numerous 
 opinions of the world ; nor value thyself upon ver- 
 bal orthodoxy, philosophy, or thy skill in tongues, 
 or knowledge of the fathers ; (too much the busi- 
 ness and vanity of the world) but in this rejoice, 
 " That thou knowest God, that is the Lord, who 
 exerciseth loving-kindness, and judgment, and 
 righteousness in the earth." 
 
 Public worship is very commendable, if well 
 performed. We owe it to God and good example. 
 But we must know, that God is not tied to time or 
 place, who is every where at the same time ; and 
 
213 
 
 this we shall know, as far as we are capable, if, 
 wherever we are, our desires are to be willi him. 
 
 Serving God, people generally confine to acts of 
 public and private worship : and those the more 
 zealous do often repeat, in hopes of acceptance. 
 
 But, if we consider that God is an Infinite Spirit, 
 and, as such, every where ; and that our Saviour 
 has taught us, that he will be worshipped in spirit 
 and in truth, we shall see the shortness of such a 
 notion. 
 
 For serving God concerns the frame of our spirits, 
 in the whole course of our lives ; in every occasion 
 we have, in which we may show our love to his law. 
 
 For as men in battle are continually in the way 
 of shot, so we, in this world, are ever within the 
 reach of temptation: and herein do we serve God, 
 if we avoid what we are forbid, as well as do what 
 he commands. 
 
 God is better served in resisting a temptation to 
 evil than in many formal prayers. 
 
 This is but twice or thrice a day ; but that every 
 hour and moment of the day. So much more is 
 our continual watch, than our evening and morning 
 devotion. 
 
 Wouldst tliou then serve God? Do not that 
 
214 
 
 alone, which thou wouldst not that another should 
 see thee do. 
 
 Do not take God's name in vain, or disobey thy 
 parents, or wrong thy neighbour, or commit adul- 
 tery, even in thine heart. 
 
 Neither be vain, lascivious, proud, drunken, re- 
 vengeful, or angry ; nor lie, detract, backbite, over- 
 reach, oppress, deceive or detray ; bflt watch vigor- 
 ously against all temptations to these things, as 
 knowing that God is present, the overseer of all thy 
 ways and most inward thoughts, and the avenger of 
 his own law upon the disobedient; and thus thou 
 w ilt acceptably serve God. 
 
 Is it not reasonable, if we expect the acknow- 
 ledgments of those to whom we are bountiful, that 
 we should reverently pay ours to God, our most 
 munificent and constant benefactor? 
 
 The world represents a rare and sumptuous 
 palace ; mankind, the great family in it ; and God, 
 the might Lord and Master of it. 
 
 We are all sensible what a stately seat it is ; the 
 heavens adorned with so many glorious luminaries ; 
 and the earth with groves, plains, valleys, hills, 
 fountains, ponds, lakes, and rivers ; and variety of 
 fruits and creatures for food, pleasure, and profit : 
 
ill short, how noble a house he keeps, and the plen- 
 ty, and variety, and excellency of his table; his 
 orders, seasons, and suitableness of every time and 
 thing. Bat we must be as sensible, or at least ought 
 to be, what careless and idle servants we are, and 
 how short and disproportionabie our behaviour is 
 to his bounty and goodness; how long he bears, 
 how often he reprieves and forgives us : how, not- 
 withstanding our breach of promises, and repcate<i 
 neglects, he has not yet been provoked to break up 
 house, and send us to shift for ourselves. Should 
 not this great goodness raise a due sense in us of 
 our undutifulness, and a resolution to alter our 
 course and mend our manners, that we may be, for 
 the future, more worthy communicants at our good 
 and great Master's table? Especially since it is 
 not more certain that we deserve his displeasure, 
 than that we shall feel it, if we continue to be un- 
 profitable servants. 
 
 But though God has repleni!^hed this world w itii 
 abundance of good things for man's life and com- 
 fort, yet they are all but imperfect goods. He only 
 is the perfect gootl, to whom they point. But, 
 alas ! men cannot ?ee him for them ; though they 
 -houM always see him in ihem. 
 
216 
 
 I have often wondered at the iinaccoiintableness 
 of man in this, among other things, that, though he 
 loves changes so well, he should care so little to 
 hear or think of his last, great, and, if he pleases, 
 his best change. 
 
 Being, as to our bodies, composed of changeable 
 elements, we, with the world, are made up of, and 
 subsist by, revolution ; but our souls being of ano- 
 ther and nobler nature, we should seek our rest in 
 a more enduring habitation. 
 
 The truest end of life is to know the life that 
 never ends. 
 
 He that makes this his care, will find it his 
 crown at last. 
 
 Life were else a misery, rather than a pleasure ; 
 a judgment, and not a blessing. 
 
 For to know, regret, and resent, to desire, hope, 
 and fear, more than a beast, and not live beyond 
 him, is to make a man less than a beast. 
 
 It is the amends of a short and troublesome life, 
 that doing good, and suffering ill, entitles man to 
 one longer and better. 
 
 This ever raises the good man's hope, and gives 
 him tastes beyond this world. 
 
 As it is his aim, so none else can bit the mark. 
 
217 
 
 Many make it their speculation, hut it is the good 
 man's practice. 
 
 His work keeps pace with his life, and so he 
 leaves nothing to be done when he dies. 
 
 And he that lives to live for ever, never fears 
 dying. 
 
 Nor can the means be terrible to him that hear- 
 tily believes the end. 
 
 For though death be a dark passage, it leads to 
 immortality; and that is recoinpence enough for 
 the suffering of it. 
 
 And yet faith lights us even through the grave ; 
 being the evidence of things not seen. 
 
 And this is the comfort of the good, that the grave 
 cannot hold them, and that they live as soon as 
 they die. 
 
 For death is no more than a turning us over from 
 time to eternity. 
 
 Nor can there be a revolution without it ; for it 
 supposes the dissolution of one form, in order to 
 the succession of another. 
 
 Death, then, being the way and condition of life, 
 we cannot love to live, if we cannot bear to die. 
 
 Let us, then, not cozen ourselves with the shells 
 and husks of things ; nor prefer form to power, noi 
 
218 
 
 shadows to substance : pictures of bread will not 
 satisfy hunger, nor those of devotion please God, 
 
 This world is a form ; our bodies are forms ; and 
 no visible acts of devotion can be without forms. 
 But yet the less form in religion, the better ; for 
 God is a spirit, and the more mental our worship, 
 the more adequate it is to the nature of God ; the 
 more silent, the more suitable to the language of a 
 spirit. 
 
 Words are for others, not for ourselves : nor for 
 God, who hears not as bodies do, but as spirits 
 should. 
 
 If we would know this dialect, we must learn of 
 the divine principle in us ; as we hear the dictates 
 of that, so God hears us. 
 
 There we may see him, too, in all his attributes ; 
 though but in little, yet as much as we can appre- 
 hend or bear ; for as he is in himself, he is incom- 
 prehensible, and " dwelleth in that light no eye can 
 approach." But in his image we may behold his 
 glory ; enough to exalt our apprehensions of God ; 
 and to instruct us in that worship which pleaseth 
 him. 
 
 Men may tire themselves in a labyrinth of 
 search, and talk of God ; but if we would know him 
 
219 
 
 indeed, it must be from tlie impressions we receive 
 of liim, and the softer our liearts are, the deeper 
 and livelier those will be upon us. 
 
 If he lias made us sensible of his justice, by his 
 reproof ; of his patience, by his forbearance ; of his 
 mercy, by his forgiveness ; of his holiness, by the 
 sauctification of our hearts through the spirit; we 
 have a grounded knowledge of God. — This is ex- 
 perience, that speculation ; this enjoyment, that 
 report. In short, this is undeniable evidence, with 
 the realities of religion, and will stand all winds 
 and weathers. 
 
 As our faith, so our devotion, should be lively. 
 Cold meat will not serve at those repasts. 
 
 It is a coal from God's altar must kindle our fire : 
 and without fire, true fire, no acceptable sacrifice. 
 
 " Open thou my lips, and then," said the royal 
 prophet, " my mouth shall praise Go<l." But not 
 till then. 
 
 The preparation of the heart, as well as the 
 answer of the tongue, is of the Lord : and to have 
 it, our prayers must be powerful, and Qur worship 
 grateful. 
 
 Let us choose, therefore, to commune where there 
 is the warmest sense of reliijion ; where devotion 
 
220 
 
 exceeds formality, and practice most corresponds 
 with profession ; and where there is, at least, as 
 much charity as zeal : for where this society is to 
 be found, there shall we find the church of God. 
 
 As good, so ill men, are all of a church ; and 
 every body knows who must be the head of it. 
 
 The humble, meek, merciful, just, pious, and de- 
 vout souls, are every where of one religion ; and 
 when death has taken oflf the mask, they will know 
 one another, though the diverse liveries they wear 
 here make them strangers. 
 
 Great allowances are to be made for education 
 and personal weaknesses ; but it is a rule with me, 
 " That man is truly religious, that loves the persua- 
 sion he is of, for the piety, rather than the cere- 
 mony, of it." 
 
 They that have one end can hardly disagree when 
 they meet. At least their concern in the greater, 
 moderates their value for, and difference about, the 
 lesser things. 
 
 It is a sad reflection, that many men have hardly 
 any religion at all, and most men have none of 
 their own ; for that which is the religion of their 
 education, and not of their judgment, is the religion 
 <»f another, and not theirs. 
 
221 
 
 To have religiun upon authority, and not upon 
 conviction, is like a fingcr-watch, to be set forwards 
 or backwards, as he that has it in keeping pleases. 
 
 It is a preposterous thing, that men can venture 
 their souls, wtere they will not venture their 
 money : for tliey will take their religion upon trust, 
 but not trust a synod about the goothiess of halt-a- 
 crown. 
 
 They will follow their own judgment when their 
 money is concerned, whatever they do for their 
 souls. 
 
 But, to be sure, that religion cannot be riglit, 
 that a man is the worse for having. 
 
 No religion is better than an unnatural one. 
 
 Grace perfects, but never sours or spoils, nature. 
 
 To be unnatural in defence of grace is a contra- 
 diction. 
 
 Hardly any thing looks worse than to defend re- 
 ligion by ways that shew it has no credit with us. 
 
 A devout man is one thing, a stickler is quite 
 another. 
 
 When our minds exceed their just bounds, we 
 must needs discredit what we would recommend. 
 
 To be furious in religion, is to be irreligiously 
 religious. 
 
222 
 
 If he that is without bowels be not a man, how 
 then can he be a Christian ? 
 
 It were better to be of no church, than to be 
 bitter for any. 
 
 Bitterness comes very near to enmity, and that 
 is Beelzebub, because the perfectioii of wickedness. 
 
 A good end cannot sanctity evil means ; nor must 
 we ever do evil that good may come of it. 
 
 Some folk think they may scold, rail, hate, rob, 
 and kill too, so it be but for God's sake. 
 
 But nothing in us that is unlike him can please 
 him. 
 
 It is a great presumption to send our passions 
 upon God's errands, as it is to palliate them with 
 God's name. 
 
 Zeal dropt in charity, is good ; withont it, good 
 for nothing ; for it devours all it comes near. 
 
 They must first judge themselves, that presume 
 to censure othej-s ; and such will not be apt to 
 overshoot the mark. 
 
 We are too ready to retaliate, rather than to 
 forgive, or to gain by love and information. 
 
 And yet we could hurt no man that we believe 
 loves us. 
 
 Let us, then, try what love will do : for if men 
 
223 
 
 flo once see we love them, we should soon find Ihcy 
 would not harm us. 
 
 Force may subdue, but love gains ; and he that 
 forgives first, wins the laurel 
 
 If I am even with my enemy, the debt is paid ; 
 but if I forgive it, I oblige him for ever. 
 
 Love is the hardest lesson in Christianity ; but 
 for that reason, it should be most our care to learn 
 it. " Difficilia qua; pulchra" 
 
 It is a severe rebuke upon us, that God makes 
 ns so many allowances, and we make so few to our 
 neighbour : as if charity had nothing to do with 
 religion ; or love with faith, that ought to work 
 by it. 
 
 I find all sorts of people agree, whatsoever were 
 their animosities, when humbled by the approach 
 of death ; then they forgive, then they pray for, 
 and love one another : and this shews as, that it is 
 not our reason, but our passion, th»t makes and 
 holds up the feuds that reign among men in their 
 health and fulness. They, therefore, that live 
 nearest to that state in which they should die, 
 must certainly live the best. 
 
 Did we believe a final reckoning and judgment, 
 or did we think enough of what we do believe, we 
 
224 
 
 should allow more love in religion than we do : 
 since religion itself is nothing else but love to God 
 and man. 
 
 "He that lives in love, lives in God," says the 
 beloved disciple : and to be sure, a man can no 
 where live better. 
 
 It is most reasonable men should value that 
 benefit which is most durable. Now tongues shall 
 cease, and prophecy fail, and faith shall be con- 
 summated in sight, and hope in enjoyment; but 
 love remains. 
 
 Love is indeed heaven upon earth ; since heaven 
 above would not be heaven without it ; for where 
 there is not love there is fear ; but " Perfect love 
 casts out fear." And yet we naturally fear most 
 to offend what we most love. 
 
 What we love, we will hear ; what we love, we 
 will trust ; and what we love, we will serve, aye, 
 and suffer for too. " If you love me," says our 
 blessed Redeemer, " keep my commandments." 
 Why? — Why then, he will love us, and then we 
 shall be his friends ; then he will send us the Com- 
 forter ; then whatever we ask, we shall receive ; 
 and then, where he is we shall be also, and that 
 for ever. Behold the fruits of love; the power, 
 virtue, benefit, and beauty of love ! 
 
22o 
 
 Love is above all; and when it prevails in us all, 
 we shall all be lovely, and in love with God, and 
 one with another. Amen. 
 
 THE RIGHT MORALIST. 
 
 A RIGHT moralist is a great and good man ; but, 
 for that reason, ho is rarely to be found. 
 
 There is a class of people that arc fond of the 
 character, who, in my opinion, have but little title 
 to it. 
 
 They think it enough, not to defraud a man of 
 his pay, or betray his friend ; but never consider, 
 that the law forbids the one at his peril, and that 
 virtue is seldom the reason of the other. 
 
 Bat certainly, he that covets can no more be a 
 moral mail, than he that steals ; since ite does so in 
 his mind. Nor can he be one that robs his neigh- 
 bour of his credit, or that craftily undermines him 
 of his trade or office. 
 
 If a man pays his tailor but debauches his wife, 
 is he a current moralist ? 
 
 But what shall we say of the man that rebels 
 agiunst his father, is an ill husband, or an abnsive 
 neighbour; one that is lavish of his time, of his 
 
 Q 
 
226 
 
 health, and of his estate, in which his family is so 
 nearly concerned? Mast he go for a right moralist 
 because he pays his rent well ? 
 
 I would ask some of those men of morals, whe- 
 ther he that robs God, and himself too, though 
 he should not defraud his neighbour, be a moral 
 man ? 
 
 Do I owe myself nothing? And do I not owe 
 all to God ? And, if paying what we owe makes 
 the moral man, is it not fit we should begin to ren- 
 der our dues where we owe very our beginning; 
 aye, our all ? 
 
 The complete moralist begins with God; he 
 gives him his dae, bis heart, his love, his service : 
 the bountiful giver of his well-being, as well as 
 being. 
 
 He ithat lives without a sense of this dependence 
 and obligation, cannot be a moral man, because be 
 does not know his returns of love and obedience, 
 as becomes an honest man, and a sensible creature : 
 which very term implies he is not iiis own; and 
 it cannot be very honest to misemploy another's 
 goods. 
 
 But how ! can there be no debt but to a fellpw- 
 creatnre ? Or will our exactness in paying those 
 
227 
 
 trifling ones, while we neglect our weightier obli- 
 gations, cancel the bonds we lie under, and render 
 us rigid and thorough moralists? 
 
 As judgments are paid before bonds, and bonds 
 before bills or book-debts, so the moralist considers 
 his obligations according to their several dignities. 
 
 In the first place. Him to whom he owes him- 
 self ; next, himself, in his health and livelihood ; 
 lastly, his other obligations, whether rational or 
 pecuniary : doing to others, to the extent of his 
 ability, as he would have them do unto him. 
 
 In short, the moral man is he, who loves God 
 above all, and his neighbour as himself : which 
 fulfils both tables at once. 
 
 THE WORLD'S ABLE MAN. 
 
 It is by some thought the character of an able 
 man to be dark and not understood. But I am 
 sure that is not fair play. 
 
 If he be so by silence, it is better ; but if by 
 disguises, it is insincere and hateful. 
 
 Secrecy is one thing, false lights are another. 
 
 The honest man, that is rather free than open, 
 is always to be preferred ; especially when sense 
 is at 'the helm, 
 
 Q i 
 
228 
 
 The glorying of the other humour is in a vice ; 
 for it is not human to be cold, dark, and uncon- 
 versable. I was going to say they are like pick- 
 pockets in a crowd, where a man must ever have 
 his hand upon his purse ; or as spies in a garrison, 
 that, if not prevented, betray it. 
 
 They are the reverse of human nature : and yet 
 this is the present world's wise man and politician : 
 excellent qualities for Lapland ! where they say 
 witches, (though not many conjurers) dwell. 
 
 They are like highwaymen, that rarely rob with- 
 out vizards, or in the same wigs and clothes, but 
 have a dress for every enterprise. 
 
 At best be may be a cunning man, which is a 
 sort of Inrcher in politics. 
 
 He is never too hard for the wise man upon the 
 square ; for that is out of his element, and puts 
 him quite by his skill. Nor are wise men ever 
 caught by him but when they trust him. 
 
 But as cold and as close as he seems, he can and 
 will please all if he gets by it ; though it should 
 neither please God nor himself at bottom. 
 
 He is for every cause that brings him gain ; but 
 implacable if disappointed of success. 
 
 And what he cannot hinder, he will be sure (o 
 spoil by over-doing it. 
 
229 
 
 None so zealous then as he, for that which he 
 cannot abide. 
 
 What is it he will not, or cannot do, to hide his 
 true sentiments? 
 
 For his interest he refuses no side or party ; and 
 he will take the wrong by the hand, when the other 
 will not do, with as good a grace as the right 
 
 Nay, he commonly chooses the worst, because 
 that brings the best bribe ; his cause being ever 
 money. 
 
 He sails with all winds, and is never out of his 
 way, where any thing is to be had. 
 
 A privateer, indeed, and everywhere a bird of 
 prey. 
 
 True to nothing but himself; and false to all 
 persons and parties, to serve his own turn. 
 
 Talk with him as often as you please, he will 
 never pay you in good coin ; for it is either false 
 or clipped. 
 
 But to give a false reason for any thing, let niy 
 reader never learn of him, no more -than to give 
 a brass half-crown for a good one : not only because 
 it is not true, but because it deceives the person to 
 whom it is given ; which I take to be an im- 
 morality. 
 
230 
 
 Silence is much preferable; for it saves the 
 secret, as well as the person's honour. 
 
 Such as give themselves the latitude of saying 
 what they do not mean, come to be errant jockies 
 at more things than one ; but in religion and poli- 
 tics it is pernicious. 
 
 To hear two men talk the reverse of their own 
 sentiments, with all the good breeding and appear- 
 ance of friendship imaginable, on purpose to cozen 
 or pump each other, is, to a man of virtue and 
 honour, one of the most melancholy, as well as the 
 most nauseous things in the world. 
 
 But that it should be the character of an able 
 man, is to disinherit wisdom, and paint out our 
 degeneracy to the life, by setting up fraud, an errant 
 impostor, in her room. 
 
 The trial of skill between these two is, who shall 
 believe least of what the other says : and he that 
 has the weakness, or good nature, to give out first, 
 (viz. to believe any thing the other says) is looked 
 upon to be tricked. 
 
 I cannot see the policy, any more than the neces- 
 sity, of a man's mind giving the lie to his mouth, or 
 his mouth giving false alarms of his mind : for no 
 man can be long believed, that teaches all men to 
 
231 
 
 distrust him : and, since Ihe ablest have someiimes 
 need of credit, where lies the advantage of their 
 politic cant or banter upon mankind ? 
 
 I remember a passage of one of Queen Eliza- 
 beth's great men, as advice to his friend : " The 
 advantage," says he, "I had upon others at court, 
 was, that I always spoke as I thought ; which being 
 not believed by them, I both preserved a good co'i- 
 science, and suffered no damage from that free- 
 dom :" which, as it shows the vice to be older than 
 our times, so does it that gallant man's integri.y to 
 be the best way of avoiding it. 
 
 To be sure it is wise, as well as honest, neither 
 to flatter other men's sentiments, nor dissemble, 
 and less to contradict, our own. 
 
 To hold one's tongue, or speak tnith, or talk 
 only of indifferent things, is the fairest con- 
 versation. 
 
 Women that rarely go abroad without vizard 
 masks, have none of the best reputation. But when 
 we consider what all this art and disguise are for, 
 it equally heightens the wise man's wonder and 
 aversion : perhaps it is to betray a father, a bro- 
 ther, a master, a friend, a neighbour, or one's own 
 party. 
 
232 
 
 A fine conquest ! one which noble Grecians and 
 Romans abhorred : as if government could not sub- 
 sist without knavery, and that knaves were the 
 most useful props to it ; though the basest as well 
 as the greatest, perversions of the ends of it. 
 
 But that it should become a maxim shows but too 
 grossly the corruptions of the times. 
 
 I confess I have heard the stile of " A useful 
 knave," but ever took it to be a silly or a knavish 
 saying ; at least an excuse for knavery. 
 
 It is as reasonable to think a harlot makes the 
 best wife, as a knave the best officer. 
 
 Besides, employing knaves encourages knavery, 
 instead of punishing it, and alienates the reward of 
 virtue : or, at least, must make the world believe 
 the country yields not honest men enough, able to 
 serve her. 
 
 Art thon a magistrate ? Prefer such as have 
 clean characters where they live; and men of 
 estates to secure a just discharge of their trusts, 
 that are nnder no temptation to strain points for a 
 fortune : for sometimes such may be found sooner 
 than they are employed. 
 
 Art thon a private man ? Contract thy acquaint- 
 ance in a narrow compass, and choose those for (be 
 
•233 
 
 subjects of it that arc uieu uf piinciplc ; »uch as will 
 make full stops, where honour will not lead them 
 on; and that had rather bear the disgrace of not 
 being thorough-paced men, than forfeit their peace 
 and reputation by a base compliance. 
 
 THE WISE MAN. 
 
 The wise man governs himself by the reason of 
 his case, and because what he does is best: best, in 
 a moral and prudent, not a sinister, sense. 
 
 He proposes just ends, and employs the fairest 
 and most probable means and methods to attain 
 them. 
 
 Though you cannot always penetrate his design, 
 or his reasons for it, yet you shall ever see his ac- 
 tions of a piece, and his performance like a work- 
 man : they will bear the touch of wisdom and 
 honour, as often as they are tried. 
 
 He scorns to serve himself by indirect frieans, or 
 to be an interloper in government ; since just 
 enterprises never want any unjust ways to succeed 
 them. 
 
 To do evil that good may come of it, is for 
 bunglars in politics as well as morals. 
 
234 
 
 Like those surgeons that will cut oflf an arm they 
 cannot cure, to hide their ignorance and save their 
 credit. 
 
 The wise man is cautious but not cunning; judi- 
 cious but not crafty; making virtue the measure 
 of using his excellent understanding in the conduct 
 of his life. 
 
 The wise man is equal, ready, but not officious ; 
 has in every thing an eye to a sure footing ; he 
 offends nobody; nor is easily offended; and is 
 always willing to compound for wrongs, if not for- 
 give them. 
 
 He is never captious, nor critical ; hates banter' 
 and jests; he may be pleasant but not light; he 
 never deals but in substantial ware, and leaves the 
 rest for the toy-pates, (or shops) of the world; 
 which are so far from being his business, that they 
 are not so much as his diversion. 
 
 He is always for some solid good, civil or moral : 
 as to make his country more virtuous, preserve her 
 peace and liberty, employ her poor, improve land, 
 advance trade, suppress vice, encourage industry, 
 and all mechanic knowledge ; and that they should 
 be the care of the government, and the blessing 
 and praise of the people. 
 
235 
 
 To conclude, he is just, and fears God, hates 
 covetousness, and eschews evil, and loves his 
 neighbour as himself. 
 
 OF THE GOVERNMENT OF THOUGHTS. 
 
 Man being made a reasonable and so a thinking 
 creature, there is nothing more worthy of his being 
 than the right direction and employment of his 
 thoughts: since upon this depends both his useful- 
 ness to the public, and his own present and future 
 benefit in all respects. 
 
 The consideration of this has often obliged me 
 to lament the unhappiness of mankind, that, 
 through too great a mixture and confusion of 
 thoughts, have been hai-dly able to make a right or 
 mature judgment of things. 
 
 To this is owing the various nncertainty and con- 
 fusion we see in the world, and the intemperate zeal 
 that occasions them. 
 
 To this, also, is to be attributed the imperfect 
 knowledge we have of things, and the slow progress 
 we make in attaining to a better : like the children 
 of Israel, who were forty years upon their journey 
 from Egypt to Canaan, which might have been 
 performed in less than one. 
 
336 
 
 In fine, it is to this that we ought to ascribe, if 
 not all, at least most of the infelicities we labour 
 under. 
 
 Clear, therefore, thy head, and rally and manage 
 thy thoughts rightly, and thou wilt save time, and 
 see and do thy business well : for thy judgment 
 will be distinct, thy mind free, and thy faculties 
 strong and regular. 
 
 Always remember to bound thy thoughts to the 
 present occasion. 
 
 If it be thy religious duty, suffer nothing else to 
 fehare in them. And if any civil or temporal 
 affair, observe the same caution ; and thou wilt be 
 a whole man to every thing, and do twice the 
 business in the same time. 
 
 If any point over-labour thy mind, divert and 
 relieve it by some other subject, of a more sensible 
 or manual nature, rather than what may affect the 
 understanding : for this were to write one thing 
 upon another, which blots out our former impres- 
 sions, or renders them illegible. 
 
 They that are least divided in their care, always 
 give the best account of their business. 
 
 As, therefore, thon art always to pursue the 
 present subject till thou hast mastered it; so, if it 
 
237 
 
 fall out that thou hast more affairs than one upon 
 thy hand, be sure to prefer that which is of most 
 moment, and will least wait thy leisure. 
 
 He that judges not well of the importance of his 
 affairs, though he may be always busy, must make 
 but a small progress. 
 
 But make not more business necessary than is 
 so; and rather lessen than augment work for thy- 
 self. 
 
 Nor yet be over-eager in pursuit of any thing ; 
 for the mercurcal too often happen to leave judg- 
 ment behind them, and sometimes make work for 
 repentance. 
 
 He that over-runs his business leaves it for him 
 that follows more leisurely to take it up : which 
 has often proved a profitable harvest to them that 
 never sowed. 
 
 It is the advantage that slower tempers have 
 upon the men of lively parts, that though they 
 do not lead, they will follow well, and glean 
 clean. 
 
 Upon the svhole matter, employ thy thoughts as 
 thy business requires, and let that have place 
 according to merit and urgency, giving every thing 
 a review and due digestion ; and thou wilt prevent 
 
238 
 
 many errors and vexations, as well as save much 
 time to thyself in the course of thy life. 
 
 OF ENVY. 
 
 It is a mark of ill-nature to lessen good actions, 
 and aggravate ill ones. 
 
 Some men do as much begrudge others a good 
 name, as they want one themselves : and perhaps 
 that is the reason of it. 
 
 But certainly they are in the wrong that think 
 they are lessened, because others have their due. 
 
 Such people generally have less merit than am- 
 bition, that covet the reward of other men's ; and, 
 to be sure, a very ill nature, that will rather rob 
 others of their due, than allow them their praise. 
 
 It is more an error of our will than oar judg- 
 ment : for we know it to be an effect of onr passion, 
 not of our reason ; and we are therefore the more 
 culpable in our partial estimates. 
 
 It is as envious as unjust, to under-rate another's 
 actions, where their intrinsic worth recommends 
 them to disengaged minds. 
 
 Nothing shows more the folly, as well as fraud 
 of man, than clipping merit and reputation. 
 
239 
 
 And dS some men think it an alloy to themseWes, 
 that others have their right ; so they know no end 
 of pilfering, to raise their own credit. 
 
 This envy is the child of pride ; and misgives 
 rather than mistakes. 
 
 It will have charity to be ostentation ; sobriety, 
 covetousness ; humility, craft; bounty, popularity. 
 In short, virtue must be design, and religion only 
 interest. Nay, the best of qualities must not pass 
 without a but to alloy their merit, and abate their 
 praise. Basest of tempers ! and they that have it, 
 the worst of men. 
 
 But jnst and noble minds rejoice in other men's 
 success, and help to augment their praise. 
 
 And, indeed, they are not without a love to vir- 
 tue, that take a satisfaction in seeing her rewarded ; 
 and such deserve to share her character, that do 
 abhor to lessen it. 
 
 OF MAN'S LIFE. 
 
 Why is man less durable than the works of his 
 hands, but because this is not the place of his rest ? 
 
 And it is a great and just reproach upon him, 
 that he should fix his mind where he cannot stHy 
 himself. 
 
240 
 
 Were it not more his wisdom to be concerned 
 about those works that will go with him, and erect 
 a mansion for him, where time has power neither 
 over him nor it? 
 
 It is a sad thing for a man so often to miss his 
 way to his best, as well as his most lasting, home. 
 
 OF AMBITION. 
 
 They that soar too high, often fall hard ; whicli 
 makes a low and level dwelling preferable. 
 
 The tallest trees are most in the power of the 
 winds ; and ambitious men of the blasts of fortune. 
 
 They are most seen and observed, and most en- 
 vied ; least quiet but most talked of, and not often 
 to their advantage. 
 
 Those builders have need of a good foundation, 
 who lie so much exposed to weather. 
 
 Good works are a rock that will support their 
 credit; but ill ones, a sandy foundation, that yields 
 to calamities. 
 
 And truly they ought to expect no pity in their 
 fall, who, when in power, had no bowels for tlie 
 unhappy. 
 
 The worst of distempers; always craving and 
 
4 
 
 thirsty, restless and hated : a perfect delirium \u' 
 the mind ; unsufferablc in success, and in disap- 
 pointments most revens;eful. 
 
 OF PRAISE OR APPLAUSE. 
 
 We are apt to love praise but not to deserve it. 
 
 But if we would deserve it, we must love virtue 
 more than that. 
 
 As there is no passion in us sooner moved, or 
 more deceivable ; so, for that reason, there is none 
 over which we ought to be more watchful, whether 
 we give or receive it : for if we give it, we must 
 be sure to mean it, (".nd measure it too. 
 
 If we are penurious, it shows emulatioo ; if we 
 exceed, flattery. 
 
 Good measure belongs to good actions ; more 
 looks nauseous, as well as insincere : besides, it is 
 persecuting the meritorious, who is out of coun- 
 tenance to hear what he deserves. 
 
 It is much easier for him to merit applause, than 
 to hear of it: and he never doubts himself more, or 
 the person that gives it, than when he hears so 
 much of it. 
 
 But, to say true, there need not many cautions 
 R 
 
242 , 
 
 on this hand; since the worhl is rarely just enongh 
 to the deserving. 
 
 However, we cannot be too circumspect how we 
 receive praise : for if we contemplate ourselves in 
 a false glass, we are sure to be mistaken abont our 
 dues : and because we are too apt to believe what 
 is pleasing, rather than what is true, we may be 
 too easily swelled beyond our just proportion, by 
 the windy compliments of men. 
 
 Make ever, therefore, allowances for what is 
 said on such occasions ; or thou exposest, as well 
 as deceivest, thyself. 
 
 For an over-value of ourselves, gives us but a 
 dangerous security in many respects. 
 
 We expect more than belongs to us ; take all that 
 is given us, though never intended for us ; and fall 
 out with those who are not so full of us, as we are 
 of ourselves. 
 
 In short, it is a passion that abuses our judgment, 
 and makes us both unsafe and ridiculous. 
 
 Be not fond, therefore, of praise ; but seek virtue 
 that leads to it. 
 
 And yet no more lessen or dissemble thy merit, 
 than over-rate it : for though humility he a virtue, 
 an affected one is none. 
 
243 
 
 OF CONDUCT IN SPEECH. 
 
 Inql'IRe often, but judge rarely, and thou wilt 
 not often be mistaken. 
 
 It is safer to learn than to teach ; and he who 
 conceals his opinion has nothing to answer for. 
 
 Vanity or resentment often engages us, and it is 
 two to one that we come off losers ; for one shows 
 a want of judgment and humility, as the other docs 
 of temper and discretion. 
 
 Not that I admire the reserved ; for they are next 
 to unnatural that are not communicable. But if 
 rcservedness be at any time a virtue, it is in 
 throngs, or ill company. 
 
 Beware also of affectation in speech : it often 
 wrongs matter, and ever shows a blind side. 
 
 Speak properly, and in as few words as you can, 
 but always plainly : for the end of speech is not 
 ostentation, but to be understood. 
 
 They that aflfect words more than matter, will 
 dry up what little they have. 
 
 Sense never fails to give them that have it words 
 enough to make them understood. 
 
 But it too often happens in some couversationi<, 
 as in apothecaries' shops; that those pots that are 
 R 2 
 
244 
 
 empty, or have things of small value in them, are 
 as gaudily dressed and flourished as those that are 
 full of precious drugs. 
 
 This labouring of slight matte'r with flourished 
 turns of expression is fulsome, and worse than the 
 modern imitation of tapestry, and East India goods, 
 in staff's and linens. In short, it is but tawdry talk, 
 and next to very trash. 
 
 UNION OF FRIENDS. 
 
 They that love beyond the world cannot be 
 separated by it. 
 
 Death cannot kill what never dies. 
 
 Nor can spirits ever be divided, that love and 
 live in the same divine principle, the root and re- 
 cord of their friendship. 
 
 If absence be not death, neither is theirs. 
 
 Death is but crossing the world, as friends do the 
 <ens ; they live in one another still. 
 
 For they must needs be present, that love and 
 live in that which is omnipresent. 
 
 In this divine glass they see face to face ; and 
 their converse is free as well as pure. 
 
 Thi« is the comfort of friends that though (hey 
 
245 
 
 may be saul to die, yet their friendshii) and sot i- 
 cty are, in the best sense, ever present, because 
 immortal. 
 
 ON BEING EASY IN LIVING. 
 
 It is a happiness to be delivered from a curious 
 mind, as well as from a dainty palate. 
 
 For it is not only a troublesome, but slavislj 
 thing to be nice. 
 
 They narrow their own freedom and comforts, 
 that make so much requisite to enjoy them. 
 
 To be easy in living is much of the pleasure of 
 life ; but difficult tempers will always want it. 
 
 A careless and homely breeding is therefore 
 preferable to one nice and delicate. 
 
 And he that is taught to live upon little, owes 
 more to his father's wisdom, than he that has a 
 great deal left him does to his father's care. 
 
 Children cannot well be too hardily bred : for 
 besides that it fits them to bear the roughest pro- 
 vidences, it is more active and licalthy. 
 
 Nay, it is certain, that the liberty of the mind is 
 mightily preserved by it : for so it is served, instead 
 
246 
 
 of being a servant, indeed a slave to sensnal deli- 
 cacies. 
 
 As nature is soon answered, so are such satisfied. 
 
 The memory of the ancients is hardly in any 
 thing more to be celebrated than in a strict and 
 useful institution of youth. 
 
 By labour they prevented luxury in their young 
 people, till wisdom and philosophy had taught 
 them to resist and despise it. 
 
 It must be, therefore, a gross fault to strive so 
 hard for the pleasure of our bodies, and to be so 
 insensible and careless of the freedom of our souls. 
 
 OF MAN'S INCONSIDERATENESS AND 
 PARTIALITY. 
 It is very observable, if our civil rights are 
 invaded or encroached upon, we are mightily 
 touched, and fill every place with our resentment 
 and complaint ; while we suffer ourselves, our 
 better and nobler selves, to be the property and 
 vassals of sin, the worst of invaders. 
 
 In vain do we expect to be delivered from such 
 troubles, till we are delivered from the cause of 
 them, our disobedience to God. 
 
247 
 
 When he has his dues from h«, it will be time 
 enough for Him to give us ours out of one another. 
 
 It is our great happiness, if we couM understand 
 it, that we meet with such checks in the career oi 
 our worhlly enjoyments : lest we should forget the 
 giver, adore the gift, and terminate our felicity 
 here, which is not man's ultimate bliss. 
 
 Our losses are often made judgments by our 
 guilt, and mercies by our repentance. 
 
 Besides it argues great folly in men to let their 
 satisfaction exceed the true value of any temporal 
 matter; for disappointments are not always to be 
 measured by the loss of the thing, but the over- 
 value we put upon it. 
 
 And thus men improve their own miseries, for 
 want of an equal and just estimate of what they 
 enjoy or lose. 
 
 There lies a proviso upon every thing in this 
 world, and we must observe it at our own peril, 
 vii. to love God above all, and act for judgment ; 
 the last I mean. 
 
 ON THE RULE OF JUDGING. 
 In all things reason should prevail: it is quite 
 another thing to be stiff, than steady in an opinion. 
 
248 
 
 This may be reasonable, but that is ever wilful. 
 
 lu such cases it always happens, that the clearer 
 the argument, the greater the obstinacy, where the 
 design is not to be convinced. 
 
 This is to value humour more than truth, and 
 prefer a sullen pride to a reasonable submission. 
 
 It is the glory of a man to vaii to truth: as it is 
 the mark of a good nature to be easily intreated. 
 
 Beasts act by sense, man should act by reason ; 
 else he is a greater beast than ever God made : and 
 the proverb is verified, "The corruption of the best 
 things is the worst and most oflfensive." 
 
 A reasonable opinion must ever be in danger 
 where reason is not judge. 
 
 Though there is a regard due to education, and 
 the tradition of our fathers, truth will ever deserve, 
 as well as claim, the preference. 
 
 If, like Theophilus and Timothy, we have been 
 brought up in the knowledge of the best things, it 
 is our advantage ; but neither they nor we lose by 
 trying the truth : for so we learn their, as well its 
 intrinsic worth. 
 
 Truth never lost ground by inquiry; because she 
 is, most of all, reasonable. 
 
249 
 
 Nor can that need another authority (hat is self- 
 evident. 
 
 If my own reason be on the side of a principle, 
 with what can I dispute or withstand it? 
 
 And if men would ouce consider one another 
 reasonably, they would either reconcile their differ- 
 ences, or maintain them more amicably. 
 
 Let that, therefore, be the standard, that has 
 most to say for itself : though of that let every man 
 be judge for himself. 
 
 Reason, like the sun is common to all : it is fur 
 want of examining all by the same light and mea- 
 sure, that we are not all of the same mind ; for all 
 iiave it to that end, though all do not use it so. 
 
 OF FORMALITY. 
 
 Form is good, but not formality. 
 
 In the use of the best of forms there is too much 
 of that, I fear. 
 
 It is absolutely necessary that this distinction 
 should go along with the people in their devotioir; 
 for too many are more apt to rest upon what they 
 do, than how they do their duty. 
 
 If it were considered, that it is the frame of the 
 
250 
 
 mind that gives our performances acceptance, we 
 should lay more stress on onr inward preparation 
 than our outward action. 
 
 O? THE MEAN NOTION WE HAVE OF 
 GOD. 
 
 Nothing more shews the low condition man is 
 fallen into, than the unsuitable notion we must 
 have of God, by the ways we take to please him. 
 
 As if it availed any thing to him, that we per- 
 formed so many ceremonies and external forms 
 of devotion ; who never meant more by them, than 
 to try our obedience, and, through them, to shew 
 us something more excellent and durable beyond 
 them. 
 
 Doing while we are undoing is good for nothing. 
 
 Of what benefit is it to say our prayers regularly, 
 go to church, receive the sacrament, and, may be, 
 go to confession too ; aye, feast the priest, and give 
 alms to the poor; and yet lie, swear, curse, be 
 drunk, covetous, unclean, proud, revengeful, vain, 
 or idle, at the same time. 
 
 Can one excuse or balance the other ? Or will 
 God think himself well served, where his law is 
 
251 
 
 violated t Or well used, where there is so much 
 more show than substance 1 
 
 It is a most dangerous error, for a man to think 
 to excuse himself in the breach of a moral duty, by 
 a formal performance of positive worship ; and still 
 less, when that worship is of human invention. 
 
 Our blessed Saviour most rightly and clearly dis- 
 tinguished and determined this case, when he told 
 the Jews, " That they were his mother, his brethren , 
 and sisters, who did the will of his Father." 
 
 OF THE BENEFIT OF JUSTICE. 
 
 Justice is a great support of society, because 
 an insurance to all men of their property: this 
 violated, there is no security ; which throws all 
 into confusion to recover it. 
 
 An honest man is a fast pledge in dealing. A man 
 is sure to have it, if it be to be bad. 
 
 Many are so merely of necessity ; others not so, 
 only for the same reason ; but such an honest man 
 is not to be thanked ; and such a dishonest man i.s 
 to be pitied. 
 
 But he that is dishonest for gain is next to a 
 robber, and to be punished, for example. 
 
252 
 
 And, indeed, there are few dealers bat what are 
 faulty; which makes trade difficult, and a great 
 temptation to men of virtue. 
 
 It is not what they should, but what they can, 
 get : faults or decays must be concealed, big words 
 given where they are not deserved, and the igno- 
 rance or necessity of the buyer must be imposed 
 upon, for unjust profit. 
 
 These are the men that keep their words for 
 their own ends; and are only just for fear of the 
 magistrate. 
 
 A politic rather than a moral honesty ; a con- 
 strained, not a chosen justice ; according to the 
 proverb, " Patience per force, and thank you for 
 nothing." 
 
 But of all injustice, that is the greatest that 
 passes under the name of law. A cut-purse in 
 Wesminster Hall exceeds : for that advances in- 
 justice to oppression, where law is alleged for 
 that which it should punish. 
 
 OF JEALOUSY. 
 The jealous are troublesome to others, but a tor- 
 ment to themselves. 
 
Jealousy is a kinrl of civil war in the soul, 
 where judgment and imagination are at perpetual 
 jars. 
 
 This civil disstntion in the- inliid, lilte tiiat of 
 the body politic, commit!' great disorders and lays 
 all waste. 
 
 Nothing stands safe in its way :' nature, interest, 
 religion, must yield to its fury. 
 
 It violates contracts, dissolves society, breaks 
 wedlock, betrays friends and neighbours : nobody 
 is good, and every one is either doing or design- 
 ing them a mischief. 
 
 It has a venom that more or less rankles where- 
 ever it bites : and as it reports fancies or facts, so 
 it disturbs its own house, as often as other folks. 
 
 Its rise is guilt or ill-nature : and by reflection 
 it thinks its own faults to be other men's : as he 
 that is over-run with the jaundice takes others to 
 be yellow. 
 
 A jealous man sees only his own spectrum when 
 he looks upon other men, and gives his character 
 in theirs. 
 
254 
 
 OF STATE. 
 
 I LOVE service, but not state : one is useful, the 
 other superfluous. 
 
 The trouble of this, as well as charge, is real : 
 but the advantage only imaginary. 
 
 Besides, it helps to set us up above ourselves, 
 and augments our temptation to disorder. 
 
 The least thing out of joint, or omitted, makes 
 us uneasy ; and we are ready to think ourselves ill 
 served about that which is of no real service at 
 all ; or so much better than other men, as we have 
 the means of greater state. 
 
 But this is all for want of wisdom, which car- 
 ries the truest and most forcible state along with it. 
 
 He that makes not himself cheap by indiscreet 
 conversation, puts value enough on himself every 
 where. 
 
 The other is rather pageantry than state. 
 
 OF A GOOD SERVANT. 
 
 A TRUE and a good servant are the same thing. 
 But no servant is true to his master that de- 
 frauds him. 
 
•255 
 
 Now there are luaiiy ways of defrauding a mas- 
 ter, as of time, care, pains, respect, and reputa- 
 tion, as well as money. 
 
 He that neglects his work robs his master, since 
 he is fed and paid as if he did his best : and he 
 that is not as diligent in the absence, as in the 
 presence of his master, cannot be a true servant. 
 
 Nor is he a true servant, that buys dear to share 
 in the profit with the seller. 
 
 Nor yet he that tells tales without doors; or 
 deals basely in his master's name, with other peo- 
 ple ; or connives at others' loiterings, wastings, or 
 dishonourable reflections. 
 
 So that a true servant is diligent, secret, and 
 respectful: more tender of his master's honour 
 and interest, than of his own profit. 
 
 Such a servant deserves well ; and if modest 
 under his merit, should liberally feel it at his 
 master's hand. 
 
 OF AN IMMODERATE PLRSUIT OF THE 
 WORLD. 
 
 It, shews a depraved state of mind, to cark and 
 care for that which one does not need. 
 
256 
 
 Some are as eager to be rich, as to live ; as 
 anxious for superfluity, as for subsistence. 
 
 But that plenty should augment covetousness, is 
 a perversion of Providence ; and yet the generality 
 are the worse for their riches. 
 
 But it is strange, that old men should excel ; for 
 generally money lies nearest them,- that are nearest 
 their graves ; as if they would augment their love, 
 in proportion to the little time they have left to en- 
 joy it : and yet their pleasure is without enjoyment, 
 since none enjoy what they do not use. 
 
 So that instead of learning to leave their great 
 wealth easily, they hold it the faster because they 
 must leave it : so sordid is the temper of some 
 men. 
 
 Where charity keeps pace with gain, industry is 
 blessed : but to slave to get, and keep it sordidly, 
 is a sin against Providence, a vice in government, 
 and an injury to their neighbours. 
 
 Such as they, spend not one-tifth of their income ; 
 and, it may be, give not one-tenth part of what 
 they spend to the needy. 
 
 This is the worst sort of idolatry, because there 
 can be no religion in it, nor ignorance pleaded in 
 excuse of it ; and that it wrongs other folks, that 
 ought to have a share therein. 
 
•257 
 
 OF THE INTEREST OF THE PUBLIC IN 
 OUR ESTATES. 
 
 Hardly any thing is given us fot ourselves, 
 but the public may claim a share with us. But of 
 all we call ours, we are most accountable to Gotl, 
 and the public, for our estates: in this we are but 
 stewards ; and to hoard up all to ourselves, is great 
 injustice as well as ingratitude. 
 
 If all men were so far tenants to the public, that 
 the superfluities of gain and expence were applie<l 
 to the exigencies thereof, it would put an end to 
 taxes, leave not a beggar, and make the greatest 
 bank for national trade in Europe. 
 
 It is a judgment upon us, as well as weakness, 
 though we will not see it, to begin at the wrong 
 end. 
 
 If the taxes we give are not to maintain pride, 
 I am sure there would be less, if pride were made 
 a tax to the government. 
 
 I confess I have wondered that so many lawful 
 and useful things are excised by laws, and pride 
 left to reign free over them and the public. 
 
 But, since people are more afraid of the laws 
 of man than of God, because their punishment 
 S 
 
258 
 
 seems to be nearest, I know not how magistrates 
 can be excused in their suffering such excess with 
 impunity. 
 
 Our noble English patriarchs, as well as patriots, 
 were so sensible of this evil, that they made several 
 excellent laws, commonly called sumptuary, to 
 forbid, at least limit, the pride of the people ; and, 
 because the execution of them would be our in- 
 terest and honour, their neglect must be our just 
 reproach and loss. 
 
 It is but reasonable that the punishment of 
 pride and excess should help to support the govern- 
 ment; since it must otherwise inevitably be ruined 
 by them. 
 
 But some say, " It ruins trade, and will make 
 the poor burdensome to the public;" but if such 
 trade, in consequence, ruins the kingdom, is it not 
 time to ruin that trade ? Is moderation no part of 
 our duty ; and is temperance an enemy to govern- 
 ment ? 
 
 He that will get money by any thing is a Judas. 
 
 To wink at a trade that effeminates the people, 
 and invades the ancient discipline of the kingdom, 
 is a crime capital, and to be severely puni.shed, 
 instead of being excused by the magistrate. 
 
259 
 
 Is th€rc no better eniploymeut for the poor than 
 luxury? Miserable nation ! 
 
 What did they, before they fell into these for- 
 bidden methods? Is there not land enough in 
 England to cultivate, and more and better manu- 
 factures to be made ? 
 
 Have we no room for them in our plantations, 
 about things that may augment trade without 
 luxury 1 
 
 In short, let pride pay, and excess be well 
 excised : and if that will not cure the people, it 
 will help to keep the kingdom. 
 
 THE VAIN MAN. 
 
 But a vain man is a nauseoas creature: he is 
 so full of himself, that he has no room for any 
 thing else, be it ever so good or deserving. 
 
 It is I, at eveiy turn, that does this, or can do 
 that. And as be abounds in his comparisons, so 
 he is sure to give himself the better of every bo<iy 
 else; according to the proverb, "All his geese are 
 swans." 
 
 They are certainly to be pitied that can be so 
 much mistaken at home. 
 
 S 2 
 
260 
 
 And yet I have sometimes thought, that such 
 people are, in a sort, happy, that nothing can put 
 out of coantenance with themselves, though they 
 neither have, nor merit other people's. 
 
 But, at the same time, one would wonder they 
 should not feel the blows they give themselves, or 
 gi;t from others, for this intolerable and ridiculous 
 temper ; nor shew any concern at that, which 
 makes others blush for, as well as at them, viz. 
 their unreasonable assurance. 
 
 To be a man's own fool is bad enough ; but the 
 vain man is every body's. 
 
 This silly disposition comes of a mixture of 
 ignorance, confidence, and pride : and as there b 
 more or less of the last, so it is more or less 
 offensive, or entertaining. 
 
 And yet, perhaps, the worst part of this vanity 
 is its unteachableness. Tell it any thing, and it 
 has known it long ago; it outruns information and 
 instruction, or else proudly sneers at it. 
 
 Whereas the greatest understandings doubt most, 
 are readiest to learn, and least pleased M'ith 
 themselves; this, with nobody else. 
 
 For though they stand on higher ground, and so 
 see further than their neighbours, they are yet 
 
261 
 
 humbled by their prospect, since it shows them 
 something so much higher above their reach. 
 
 And truly then it is that sense shines with the 
 greatest beauty, when it is set in humility. 
 
 An humble able man is a jewel worth a king- 
 dom : it is often saved by him, as Solomon's poor 
 wise man did the city. 
 
 May we have more of them, or less need of 
 them. 
 
 THE CONFORMIST. 
 
 It is reasonable to concur, where conscience 
 does not forbid a compliance ; for conformity is at 
 least a civil virtue. 
 
 But we should only press it in necessaries: the 
 rest may prove a snare or temptation to break 
 society. 
 
 But, above all, it is a weakness in religion and 
 government, where it is carried to things of an 
 indififerent nature; since, besides that it makes 
 way for scruples, liberty is always the price of it. 
 
 Such conformists have little to boast of, and 
 therefore the less reason to reproach others that 
 have more latitude. 
 
262 
 
 And yet the latiladinarian that I love is one that 
 is only so in charity : for the freedom 1 recom- 
 mend is no scepticism in judgment, and much less 
 so in practice. 
 
 THE OBLIGATIONS OF GREAT MEN TO 
 ALMIGHTY GOD. 
 
 It seems but reasonable that those whom God 
 has distinguished from others by his goodness, 
 should distinguish themselves to him by their 
 gratitude. 
 
 For though he has made of one blood all nations, 
 he has not ranged or dignified them upon the level, 
 bat La a sort of subordination and dependency. 
 
 If we look upwards, we find it in the heavens, 
 where the planets have their several degrees of 
 glory; and also the other stars, of magnitude and 
 lustre. 
 
 If we look upon the earth, we see it among the 
 trees of the wood, from the cedar to the bramble ; 
 among the fishes, from the leviathan to the sprat ; 
 in the air, among the birds, from the eagle to the 
 sparrow; among the beasts, from the lion to the 
 cat ; and among mankind, from the king to the 
 ■scavenger. 
 
263 
 
 Oar great men, doubtless, were designed, by the 
 wise framer of tlie world, for our religious, moral, 
 and politic, planets; for lights and directions to 
 the lower ranks of tlie numerous company of their 
 own kind, both in precepts and examples; and 
 they are well paid for their pains too, who have 
 the honour and service of their fellow creatures, 
 and the marrow and fat of the earth for their share. 
 
 But is it not a most unaccountable folly, that 
 men should be proud of the providences that 
 should humble them ; or think the better of them- 
 selves, instead of Him that raised them so much 
 above the level ; or of being so in their lives, in 
 return of his extraordinary favours? 
 
 But it is too near akin to us, to think no further 
 than onrselves, either in acquisition, or use, of our 
 wealth and greatness : when, alas ; they are tht 
 preferments of heaven, to try our wisdom, bounty, 
 and gratitude. 
 
 It is a dangerous perversion of the end of Pro- 
 vidence, to consume the time, power and wealth, 
 he has given as above other men, to gratify our 
 sordid passions, instead of playing the good stew- 
 ards, to the honour of our great Benefactor, and to 
 the good of our fellow-creatures. 
 
264 
 
 But it is an injustice too; since those higher 
 ranks of men are but the trustees of heaven, for 
 the benefit of lesser mortals : who, as minors, arc 
 entitled to all their care and provision. 
 
 For though God has dignified some men above 
 their brethren, it never was to serve their plea- 
 sures ; but that they might take pleasure to serve 
 the public. 
 
 For this cause, doubtless, it was that they were 
 raised above necessity, or any trouble to live, that 
 they might have more time and ability to care for 
 others: and it is certain where that use is not 
 made of the bounties of Providence, they are em- 
 bezzled and wasted. 
 
 It has often struck me with a serious reflection, 
 when I have observed the great inequality of the 
 world ; that one man should have such numbers of 
 his fellow-creatures to wait upon him, who have 
 souls to be saved as well as he ; and this not for 
 business but state. Certainly a poor employment of 
 bis money, and a worse of their time. 
 
 But that any one man should make work for 
 so many, or rather keep them from work to make 
 up a train, has a levity or luxury in it very 
 reprovable, both in religion and government. 
 
265 
 
 But even in allowable services, it has a humbling 
 consideration, and what should raise the thankful- 
 ness of the great men to Him who has so much 
 bettered their circumstances ; and moderate the 
 use of their dominion over those of their own 
 kind. 
 
 When the poor Indians hear us call any of our 
 family by the name of servants, they cry out, 
 " What ! call brethren, servants ! we call our dogs 
 servants, but never men." The moral certainly 
 can do us no harm, but may instruct us to abate 
 our height, and narrow our state and attendance. 
 
 And what has been said of their excess may, in 
 some measure, be applied to other branches of 
 luxury, that set ill examples to the lesser world, 
 and to rob the needy of their pensions. 
 
 God Almighty touch the hearts of our grandees 
 with a sense of his distinguishing goodness, and 
 the true end of it ; that they may better distinguish 
 themselves in their conduct, to the glory of Him 
 that has thus liberally preferred them, and to the 
 benefit of their fellow-creatures. 
 
266 
 
 OF REFINING UPON OTHER MEN'S 
 ACTIONS OR INTERESTS. 
 
 This seems to be the master-piece of our poli- 
 ticians; but no one shoots more at random than 
 these refiners. 
 
 A perfect lottery, and mere hazard ! since the 
 true spring of the actions of men is as invisible as 
 their hearts ; and so are their thoughts too, of their 
 several interests. 
 
 He that judges of other men by himself, does not 
 always hit the mark ; because all men have not 
 the same capacity, nor passions in interest. 
 
 If an able man refines upon the proceedings of 
 an ordinary capacity, according to his own, he 
 must ever miss it: but much more the ordinary 
 man, when he shall pretend to speculate on the 
 motives of the able man's actions : for the able 
 man deceives himself, by making the other wiser 
 than he is in the reason of his conduct; and the 
 ordinary man makes himself so, in presuming to 
 judge of the reasons of the able man's actions. 
 
 It is, in short, a wood, a maze ; and of nothing 
 are we more uncertain, nor in any thing do we 
 oftencr befool ourselves. 
 
•267 
 
 The mischiefs are many that follow this humour, 
 and dangerous : for men misguide Uiemselves, act 
 upon false measures, and meet frequently witli 
 mischievous disappointments. 
 
 It excludes all confidence in commerce; allows 
 of no such thing as a principle in practice : sup- 
 poses every man to act upon other reasons than 
 what appear; and that there is no such thing as 
 uprightness or sincerity among mankind : a trick, 
 instead of truth. 
 
 Neither allowing nature, or religion, but some 
 worldly turn or advantage, to be the true, the hid- 
 den motive of all men. 
 
 It is hard to express its uncharitableness, as well 
 as uncertainty ; and has more of vanity than benefit 
 in it. 
 
 This foolish quality gives a large field ; but let 
 what I have said serve for this time. 
 
 OF CHARITY. 
 
 Charity has various senses, but it is excellent 
 in all of them. 
 
 It imports, first, the commisseration of the poor 
 and unhappy of mankind, and it extends an helping 
 hand to meet their condition. 
 
268 
 
 They that feel nothing of this are, at best, not 
 above half of kin to human race ; since they must 
 have no bowels, which makes such an essential 
 part thereof, who have no more nature. 
 
 A man ! and yet not have the feeling of the 
 wants or needs of his own flesh and blood ! a 
 monster rather ! and may he never be suffered to 
 propagate such an unnatural stock in the world. 
 
 Such an uncharitableuess spoils the best gains ! 
 and two to one but it entails a curse upon the 
 possessors. 
 
 Nor can we expect to be heard of God in our 
 prayers, if we turn the deaf ear to the petition of 
 the distressed amongst our fellow-creatures. 
 
 God sends the poor to try us, as well as he tries 
 them by being such : and he that refuses them a 
 little, out of the great deal that God has given him, 
 lays up poverty in store for his own posterity. 
 
 I will not say these works are meritorious, but I 
 dare say they are acceptable, and go not without 
 their reward ; though, to humble us in our fulness, 
 and liberality too, we only give what is given us 
 to give, as well as to use : for if we ourselves are 
 not our own, less is that so with which God has 
 intrusted us. 
 
2GU 
 
 Mcxl, charity makes tbe best coiiistruclion ot 
 things and persons ; aud is so far front being an 
 evil spy, a back-biter, or a detractor, that it excuses 
 weakness, extenuates miscarriages, makes the best 
 of every thing, forgives every body, serves all, 
 and hopes to the end. 
 
 It moderates extremes, is always for expedients, 
 labours to accommodate differences, and had rather 
 suffer than revenge; and is so far from exacting 
 the utmost farthing, that it had rather lose, than 
 seek its own violently. 
 
 As it acts freely, so does it zealously too; but ii 
 is always to do good, for it hurts nobody. 
 
 It is a universal remedy against discord, and 
 a holy cement for mankind. 
 
 And lastly, it is love to God and the brethren, 
 which raises the soul above all worldly considera- 
 tions ; aad as it gives a taste of heaven upon 
 earth, so it is heaven, in the fulness of it, to the 
 truly charitable here. 
 
 This is the noblest sense charity has : after 
 which all should press, as that "more excellent 
 way." 
 
 Nay, most excellent : for as faith, hope, and 
 charity, were the more excellent way that the 
 
270 
 
 great ApoBtle discovered to the Christians : (too 
 apt to stick in outward gifts and church per- 
 formances) so, of that better way, he preferred 
 charity as the best part, because it would out-last 
 the rest, and abide for ever. 
 
 Wherefore a man can never be a true and good 
 Christian without charity, even in the lowest sense 
 of it, and yet he may have that part thereof, and 
 atill be none of the Apostle's true Christian : since 
 he tells us, " That though we should give all our 
 goods to the poor, and want charity (in her other 
 and higher senses) it would profit us nothing." 
 
 Nay, " Though we have all tongues, all know- 
 ledge, and even gifts of prophecy, and were 
 preachers to others, aye, and had zeal enough to 
 give our bodies to be burned ; yet if we wanted 
 charity, it would not avail us for salvation." 
 
 It seems it was his (and indeed ought to be our) 
 *' Unum necessarium," or the " One thing needful 
 which our Saviour attributed to Mary, in pre- 
 ference to her sister Martha, who seems not to 
 have wanted the lesser parts of charity. 
 
 Would to God this divine virtue were more 
 implanted and diffused among mankind, the pre- 
 tenders to Christianity especially : and wc should 
 
271 
 
 certainly mind piety more than controversy : and 
 exercise love and compassion, instead of censur- 
 ing and persecuting one another, in any manner 
 whatever. 
 
 t, Hajr, Printer, 16, Canoon Street, Dorer. 
 
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