of the FRIENDS were brightened with joy. And when he was done they assured him how happy they were that one so young and of such high standing in the world, should think of making an offering of himself to God. William then told them, that he was indeed thankful, and could never be sufficiently so, that God had called him while so young, to the glory of his service. And, as to his wealth and high standing in the world, he felt there too that the more he had, the more he owed to God, and the stronger his obligations to a pious life and that now he was come on purpose to cast in his lot among them.

They all smiled, and asked him if he was in good earnest. William looked surprised.-They said they had asked him this question because they were afraid he had not counted the cost.

O yes, replied he, I trust I have.

They all shook their heads; when Whitehead, with great meekness, said, I fear, friend William, thee art almost too young for calculations of this sort. Thee ought to remember that we are a "little flock," and withal much despised, and that "not many rich, not many wise, not many great of this world," have sought fel lowship with us.

William said he had pondered all these things.

Well then, said Whitehead, thee has done well in so doing; but still, friend William, there is something against us much worse than all this yet.

William wanted to know what that was.

Why, friend William, said Whitehead, thee must know that our religion is the hardest in the whole world. Here, William seeming to look as if he did not entirely comprehend this, Whitehead repeated "yes, friend William, ours is the hardest religion in the world." Other religions go chiefly on NOTIONS, ours on LOVE. And thou wilt learn, by and bye, that it is easier to harangue about a thousand new fangled notions, than to mortifiy one old lust. If thou soughtest

fellowship with many other societies, thou mightest easily gain thy point by subscribing to their articles contending for their creeds; confessing their notions, as about the trinity, and baptisms; &c. and by assenting that all ought to be burnt who differ from them in these things. But friend William, we have not so learned Jesus. If his religion stood in these things, it were easy to be a Christian. Corrupt nature has always had a strong leaning to religion of this sort. The heathens gloried in their showy temples and gaudy sacrifices. The Jews vaunted in their tythings of mint, anise and cummin. Many CHRISTIANS also make a great to do about creeds and catechisms, about sacraments and notions; because all the zeal they display on these points, though it may bring them much fame and wealth, need not cost them one dear lust or passion! But the quakers, friend William, put no confidence in these things. We feel ourselves constrained to a deeper work, even that hard lesson of Christ, "the perfect love out of a pure heart." And now since thou art come to join our society; and, as is common when persons apply for membership with us, we would ask thee a question or two, but not concerning thy NOTIONS, but concerning thy affections. Hast thou then a perfect hatred of sin, and dost thou sincerely desire to be holy? Hast thou the "faith that worketh by love?" and does this vital principle in thy heart manifest itself in every thought and act of thy life? Is it the staid purpose of thy soul never to shed thy brother's blood in war or private strife? Wilt thou never provoke him to hate by suing him at the law? Wilt thou never indulge thyself in gaudy attire, or furniture, or equipage, to the depriving thy poor brother of the comforts of thy charity, and thyself of the pleasure of extending it to him? Wilt thou not only not put thy bottle to him, but wilt thou drive from thy house all GIN and ardent spirits that might prove a stumbling block to him? Wilt thou never thyself rob him of his liberty, and wilt thou set thy

face against those who would? Wilt thou in thy furniture and equipage, also in thy cookery and manners of living, maintain whatever is plain and cheap, lest by a contrary example thou shouldst tempt him to live above his means, and thus involve him in debt and suffering?

These things, friend William, will serve to show thee the genius of our religion; what we would be ourselves, and what we expect of all who enter into communion with us. Now as thou art young and of a great family in the world, thou mayest not relish doctrines so mortifying to pride and carnal sense, and which require that simplicity and perfect love so distasteful to corrupt nature. We would therefore advise thee to take time and revolve these things in thy mind, lest thou shouldst fall into the condemnation of those who are very ready to follow the Lord in the days of "the loaves and fishes," but soon as he begins to preach his heavenly morality that would pull down the brute and set up the angel in man, strait they are offended and will walk no more with him."

William's eyes sparkled, as friend Whitehead spoke in this way; then with a smile he replied, that he had no need to take time to revolve these things. He was already persuaded, that every pulse of the heart towards the world and the flesh was, but fostering a fever fatal to true peace of mind; that it was the desire of his soul to be crucified to the world and the flesh, as the only wisdom for a happy life. And as to the SIMPLICITY and SELF-DENYING doctrines of the people called quakers, and also, the contempt they put on all NOTIONAL religion, in comparison of that "PERFECT LOVE" which so strongly inclines to do, in all cases, to others, as we would they should do to us, he was always charmed with them. He would not he said, so highly prize the religion of Christ, if it were not for this sweet spirit that runs through and animates the whole. He had within himself, added he, the witness of the

divinity of this religion of Christ-its tendency to heal all the ills, and brighten all the goods of life. Repeated experience had taught him, that in proportion as his heart was warmed and sweetened with this divine charity, he had a disposition to feel for his brother as for himself; to pity him; to forgive him; to mourn his vices and misfortunes, and to rejoice in his virtues and prosperities; and therefore instead of being offended thereat, he thought it the very best employment God could set himself upon in this life to crucify inordinate self with all its pride, and envy, and hate, and to perfect himself in that pure love which, by giving him a tender interest in the welfare of others, would make him a partaker in all their good."

Upon this, they all gave him the right hand of fellowship, and he was formally received as a FRIEND, not more to the surprise and comfort of that benevolent and despised people, than to the astonishment and displeasure of the proud ones and great of the dominant church, who from that day marked him as the butt of their spite.

CHAPTER XIII.

It was about the twenty-fourth year of his life that William Penn became a preacher among the quakers; whence it appears, that, being only eighteen when he joined them, he must have been six years preparing himself for his "high calling," the ministry. What we are to learn from that singular fact in the life of Christ, that he was nine years after he came of age, as we say, before he began to preach, I know not. But of William Penn we may safely say this in the hearing of young candidates for holy orders, that when they remember that his talents were certainly of the first class, and his

life equally spotless; and when they remember too that his convictions of the transcendent charm and worth of religious affections, were very early and deep, and yet he delayed coming forth to the public until his twenty-fourth year, they ought, we think, to be very cautious, lest, "running before they are sent, they fall into the snare of the devil, and by bringing much reproach on their holy profession, pierce themselves through with many sorrows."

What particular books and bodies of divinity Willim Penn studied during those six years of seclusion, I have never been able to learn; but on reading the numerous tracts, which, like polished shafts of the quiver, flew from his pen against the adversaries of the humble and loving gospel, (as set forth in the lives of the quakers,) we are at a loss whether most to admire the extent of his reading, or the powers of his memory and judgment.

As a skilful chemist, from a waggon load of plants, will extract an essence which though compressible into an ounce vial, shall yet contain the choice odour and virtues of the whole heap, leaving the residue a mere caput mortuum fit only for the dunghill-so, in passing through the alembic of William Penn's brain, the grossest bodies of divinity appeared all at once decomposed; the bonds whereby sophistry had coupled truth and error, are instantly dissolved; and the vile and the precious are shown in such characteristic colours, that a child can easily mark the difference. The result of all this was a plainness and purity in his principles and practice which can hardly be enough admired and imitated.

We read of the wise king of Israel, that after all his sprightly songs, and pregnant proverbs, and grave discourses, he winds up with a single text-"fear God and keep his commandments; for that is the whole duty of Even so, William Penn, after all his deep reading and reflection on that great subject, throws the

man."