ble and despised, he felt that he was laying the foundation of future greatness. His mind inclined somewhat toward enthusiasm

sorrow.

watch, to take care that they do so no more. Then thoughts as well as words and works will

come to judgment; which is the way to holi

ness in which the redeemed of the Lord walk. Then they will come to love God above all, and their neighbor as themselves. Nothing hurts, nothing harms, nothing makes afraid in this holy mountain. Now they come to be Christ's indeed, for they are in his nature and spirit, and not their own. And when they are his, Christ is theirs, and not before. And here communion with the Father and Son they will know, and the efficacy of the blood of cleansing; even the blood of Jesus Christ, that immaculate Lamb, which speaketh better things than that of Abel; and which cleanseth from all sin the consciences of all who come through the living faith, to be sprinkled with it from dead works to serve the living God."

With this statement of Christian doctrine every man who has felt God's work within him will have a sympathy. It contains within it the doctrines of repentance and justification, as held by evangelical Churches. The Quakers went further, and taught, as Wesley did after them, the doctrine of Christian perfection, and proclaimed it until the people were offended. Fox said: "The professors were in a rage; all pleading for sin and imperfection, and could not endure to hear talk of perfection, and of a holy and sinless life."

Such was the perfection of the early Quakers; and from Penn's description of it, we may recognize it as that taught by Wesley, and held now by his followers. He says: "The Friends believe in perfection from sin; but they never held perfection in wisdom or glory in this life, or from natural infirmities and death." Did the founder of Methodism ever state the doctrine in stronger language?

In 1649, when he was only twenty-five years of age, we find him in the midst of his career. He was then itinerating throughout England. He was even then conscious that he was acting an important

every circumstance which addressed his hope. A man named Brown had died, who, in his expiring moments, foretold a bright destiny for the poor shoemaker. Fox, in his journal, recorded his deathvision, with an intimation that it was true. He thought too, at this time, that the sense of discerning spirits had been given to him. But what he valued most were

the impressions made upon his mind, and which he often too hastily supposed to be divine. All these acted as stimuli upon him, and nerved him for his work. They even rendered him exceedingly bold and often imprudent.

But bonds and afflictions awaited him. It was not long ere his conduct was the occasion of his imprisonment. He was in Nottingham, and on the first day of the week, the Sabbath bell, which to many is so welcome a sound, "struck at his life." It called him to the "steeple-house." The man in "leathern breeches " appeared among the congregation as any other worshiper. The "priest" arose and announced his text. It was from Peter: "But we have a more sure word of prophecy, unto which ye do well to take heed." The subject was the fullness and sufficiency of the Scriptures. Fox listened. The minister closed, and soon a new scene occurred. The layman confronted the parson; the leather breeches stood up against broad-cloth. "It is not so," said George; "the Scriptures are not the 'more sure word of prophecy;' but the spirit of Christ, which inspired them. The Scriptures are the words of Christ: Christ only is the word; Christ within you. He shineth as a light in a dark place, and ye do well to take heed to him." This doctrine was paradoxical. Priest and people were concerned at the audacity of the man who had intruded so strange a matter upon their thoughts. The offense could not be tolerated. It must be punished. The next day the offender was committed to prison. Fox was in bonds; but his voice was not bound. It broke through the prison walls and grates. It won its way to the hearts of the people. It made the ministers themselves "tender." It convinced May

or Reckless, and so converted this officer of the law into a preacher of righteousness, that he ran out into the streets and market-houses of the town, and proclaimed the very doctrines for which Fox had been imprisoned. It was soon thought best to set him at liberty.

In the following year (1650) he was imprisoned again. This was at Derby. It was here that he began to write epistles to "Friends" and others. His jailer was very severe upon him, and mightily withstood his words; yet he was firm in duty and strong in faith. Few heard him who did not receive deep impressions. "Tremble at the word of the Lord," was an expression which he often and powerfully repeated, until from its use, and visible effect, the people who were convinced by him were called Quakers. This is the true origin of the name. Fox prayed for his jailer, and was answered. He was walking in his room one day, when he heard some conversation in the room beneath, and was attracted by the sounds to listen. The jailer and his wife were talking; and he heard the former distinctly say: "Wife, I have seen a vision of the day of judgment, and I saw George there, and was afraid of him." This was a blessed vision for Fox; it changed his persecutor, who soon apologized to him, and asked his pardon. From that hour the rigors of his confinement were at an end.

The next fight of persecution he endured was in Lancashire. His preaching there had convinced one James Lancaster, who himself began to "prophesy ;" but in this case the house was divided. Mrs. Lancaster adhered to her former views, and withal felt some bitterness against the disturber of her family. She had many sympathizers, who became partners with her in a most violent attack upon him. These evilly entreated him, and even attempted to drown him; which perhaps they had done, had not the Lord interposed for his deliverance. But the persecutions on took another form. He was brought before Justices Lawry and Thomson on a charge of blasphemy; and forty ministers he calls them priests-withstood him before the court. But these he confounded, and not only secured his acquittal, but had the pleasure of witnessing the conversion of Thomas Briggs, who afterward became an eminent minister of the gospel.

Fox, during his life, was imprisoned" nine times. But we need not follow him through all these persecutions. There is one remark, however, which may be made in respect to every one of them. It is this. He always proved the victor in litigation, and gained an important conquest in every trial: for either some person of distinction was convinced, or some principle established.

Few could withstand his words. He even won upon Oliver Cromwell, England's stern Protector, so as to avert any evil he may have intended against him and his people. In 1656, through the influence of Colonel Hacker and Captain Drury, he was brought before Cromwell. Cromwell, ever jealous and fearful, had been afraid of his influence, and wished to certify himself of his character and principles; while Fox, who cared not much who ruled, if he could only live in quietness, was intent on impressing his mind favorably toward himself. When ushered into his presence, he neither bowed nor uncovered himself; but did what was far more effectual. He burst into language similar to the following: "Peace be to this house. Keep in the fear of God, that thou mayest receive wisdom from it, and by it be ordered, and order all things under thy hand to his glory." This pleased the Protector. He cared but little for hat-honor, if he might be honored in reality; and the blessing of the Quaker contained within it enough of this to satisfy him. They were now soon in conversation. Fox assured him of his good-will, and of the peaceful intentions of his people. "But," said Cromwell, "why do you quarrel with the priests?" Fox replied, "We do not; they quarrel with us:" forgetting, no doubt, that he had been the first aggressor by going into their churches and declaiming against them. After the Protector, however, had fully satisfied himself of his own safety, he was not too inquisitive; but dismissed him with these words: "Come again to my house; for if I and thou were together but an hour of the day, we should be nearer one to the other. I wish thee no more harm than I do to my own soul."

As Fox was retiring, he received an invitation to dinner; which he declined, by saying, "I will eat no meat here:" and this saying being reported to Cromwell, he remarked that he had found a people whom

neither he nor his opponents could corrupt.

But the worst treatment Fox met with was two years after this, while yet Cromwell was in power. He was at St. Ives, and the oath of abjuration was tendered to him, which he refused to swear. He did this on principles to which, for years previous, he had surrendered his conscience. But though this circumstance pleaded strongly in his favor, it was utterly disregarded. A warrant was issued safely to conduct him and his companion, Edward Piott, to Launceston Jail, Pendennis Castle. After they were arrested, they were treated with great indignity by the soldiers, whose rudeness it was impossible to subdue, until getting a sight of the warrant, Fox contended that it secured unto them a safe and quiet conduct. This, for a season, acted like a charm but soon fresh indignities were committed; to which they were obliged to submit. Still, however, their courage did not give way, nor their zeal abate. They preached at Redruth and Falmouth; and seemed to have but little care either for Colonel Peter Ceely or Captain Keats, their chief persecutors; so greatly were they strengthened of God. After an imprisonment for some time, they were brought before Judge Glynn; Peter Ceely being with him upon the bench. And here a scene occurred. The judges wished the Quakers to take off their hats. The request met with a stern refusal; which was soon succeeded by an extended argument upon law and propriety. Fox said: "The law does not command it." The judges could not say it did; and were compelled to acknowledge that custom, however mighty in itself, was here, at least, without the sanction of law. Then, as to history, the Quaker contended that it gave no sanction to the flattering usage. Judge Glynn gave a reason for this: "The ancients," said he, "were without hats." "Not so," replied the shoemaker; "for the three Hebrew children were bound in their coats, hosen, and hats, and cast into the fiery furnace." The court were confounded; still they thought it was a good custom but Fox showed that it only tended to feed man's pride. During the controversy, the hats of the prisoners were taken off, and placed in their hands; but they immediately restored them to their heads.

Thus, in the matter of hats, the Qua

kers fairly outdid the judges. They also gained an advantage over them with respect to swearing. They had refused to take the oath; and now, before their honors, they were sternly required to do so: but they as sternly persisted in their refusal. Indeed, Edward Piott drew up a paper on the subject, which was handed to the judges. This irritated them, and caused Judge Glynn to inquire of the prisoners, whether they were the authors of it. Fox demanded that it should be read aloud before he would reply. The court hesitated; they feared its effect. But Fox was determined, and succeeded. The paper spoke for itself; and the Quakers, when they knew their opinions had found their way into the minds of those present, had no difficulty in acknowledging their production.

The angry court now knew not what to do. Glynn presided somewhat as Felix did, when he trembled. Ceely raged. He became the accuser of Fox; and Fox commanded him to leave the bench, and meet him as a man. But he held on to his seat. Yet though he was there, he was confounded. At length he produced a new accusation, and one which quite overwhelmed the prisoner. He said, "Fox had given him the severest blow he had ever received." This was, indeed, a grave charge against the father of the Quakers, and for a moment he was struck dumb with astonishment. At length he asked for the evidence of it. Ceely referred to Captain Keats. By this time Fox had regained his courage. He fixed his penetrating gaze on the captain, and asked the question, "Did I strike Major Ceely?" There was no response; a slight nod of the head was the only notice taken of the inquiry. "Speak up," said Fox; "let the court hear from thee." But the witness was dumb; he could not lie before the Quaker, nor speak the truth before his superior. After the court adjourned, however, he made his breast clean before Fox. Said he: "Thou didst strike Major Ceely, when having met thee one day, he said, Mr. Fox, how do you do?' and thou toldest him to beware of hypocrisy. This, he said, was the severest blow he ever received."

The Quakers were remanded to prison, and there suffered the greatest indignities that could be inflicted.

It was thus Fox realized that the path

of the reformer is truly a thorny one: his own person bore witness to it. But besides this, there came news to his ears that others were suffering. In Carlisle Jail, a young lad of sixteen years, James Purnell, who had been preaching, and was imprisoned for the offense, suffered death; but continually testified concerning the grace of God. In New-England, the strict Puritan could not endure the presence of the strict Quaker, and a violent persecution broke forth, in which four persons were hung. And throughout England, many saw their goods spoiled, and felt in their own persons the shocks of persecution. These things affected Fox deeply. He sympathized with the suffering; and though he rejoiced that the world hated them, he made what effort was in his power to disarm its rage. Suffering Friends everywhere were relieved by those who had been successful in escaping loss; the protection of the laws was invoked; addresses calculated to destroy the prejudices of their opposers were circulated; and intercessions were made with potentates and princes. All these things had their effect. Cromwell protected, but too feebly, this despised people. After his death, General Monk issued this proclamation in their favor. It is dated St. James, March 9, 1659:

"I do require all officers and soldiers to forbear to disturb the peaceable meetings of the Quakers; they doing nothing prejudicial to the Parliament or Commonwealth of England.

"GEORGE MONK."

And Charles II., who ordered Fox to be discharged from an imprisonment, is well known to have been the friend and patron of William Penn.

As the early Quakers were deeply penetrated with an inward, spiritual life, so were they admirably fitted for missionary labors. They had an itinerant ministry, and constituted a prayerful and energetic Church. They were zealous. Throughout England, Ireland, and Scotland; in Germany and France, and in America and the West Indies, they sowed the good seed, which under their care sprang up and increased. One of the most interesting portions of Fox's history is the account of his visit to the two places last named. He made it in 1671, upward of ten years previous to the founding of Philadelphia. He left England in company with several Friends; among whom were

Thomas Briggs and J. Foster. They were seven weeks on their voyage. When they had been three weeks out, the crew and passengers observed a strange and swiftsailing vessel on their track, and in apparent pursuit of them. They all supposed her to be a Turkish pirate, and in their alarm applied to Fox for advice. He counseled them to pray, and led himself in the devotions. It was a trying time to all. The vessel seemed to approach them constantly. But prayer prevailed. The Lord turned aside the threatened danger. After a hot pursuit, the dreaded sail fell back, and in a short time was out of sight.

They reached the Island of Barbadoes on the 3d of August. But Fox had not well endured the sea-voyage. He had been attacked with sea-sickness; and having been previously much abused by his labor and persecutions, it had a very injurious effect upon his health; for some time, therefore, he could do but little preaching. The "Friends," however, called upon him, together with many of the chief men of the island, with whom he conversed as best he could, and instructed them in the things pertaining to God.

He found many of the Quakers in the possession of slaves, but had the prudence not to prejudice the cause of Christ by any unwarrantable interferences with this most painful institution. In this respect he trod in the footsteps of the apostle to the Gentiles. He did all that he could to ameliorate the condition of the oppressed, but did not feel himself authorized to denounce God's judgment against all whose relation to others gave them a right to demand their services. Whether the system of slavery be right or wrong, it becomes us not now to discuss. That it is liable to great abuses, admits of no question; and that it may be the occasion of the exercise of some of the noblest impulses of our nature, sanctified by grace, is also a fact that has been demonstrated by many whom Providence has seen fit should be connected with it. How noble does that master appear, who is willing to live in moderate poverty, that his slaves may enjoy freedom of conscience, religious instruction, and a comfortable remuneration of their toils! And how praiseworthy is his conduct, who, while the laws under which he lives give him a right to claim

another man's services for fifty years, and while his interest demands them, yet contents himself with but eight or ten, that the servant who chooses to be free may be gratified! There are many such noble sons of America now on our soil, who are infinitely superior to their southern brethren or northern persecutors. To lead the slaveholder into these safe and pleasant paths was the object of Mr. Fox; for his efforts tended not to enrage the master, and render the slave discontented; but to soften the former toward his servants, and incline him to make their burden light, or to remove it altogether, and to lead the slave to honor, obey, and serve him whose relation in life had constituted him his protector and provider.

From Barbadoes, Fox and his companions went to Jamaica, and from thence they came to Maryland. In those days there were "Friends" there, and some large meetings were held among them, which were also attended by the leading men of the province. But the country then being but thinly settled, a short time sufficed for their labors. These being ended, the preachers started for Rhode Island, to visit another portion of their flock. But such a journey as they undertook can scarcely be imagined. We, who are removed nearly two centuries from the date of this tour, and who have our postroads, our turnpikes, our bridges, our railroads, our thickly-settled villages, and our crowded cities, can scarcely realize-we cannot realize at all-that where these things now are, once reigned the "forest solitude." But at the time of this journey it was thus. Through all their intended route there was scarcely a habitation. They described their progress not by towns, but rivers. On the eastern side of the Chesapeake-that which they traveled-there was no Easton, Centerville, Chestertown, or Elkton, though every one of these towns look like old ones now. But there were Miles, Chester, Sassafras, and Bohemia Rivers to be forded; and these they did ford on their journey. Newcastle, of all the towns in Delaware, only had a name. It was a Dutch colony. Fox spent a night in it. The next day he and his company crossed the Delaware, and soon were traveling in the "wilderness of the Jerseys." They rode onward; but saw no towns, nor heard of any cities. An Indian, now and then, was seen gliding

through the dense forests; but the tongues of the two races were strange to each other, and Penn had not yet taught the savage to reverence the men with straight coats and broad-brimmed hats. There was then no Philadelphia. The virgin forest stood then upon this mart of commerce. Few persons had penetrated into it; no! not one tree had been blazed, nor white child born, where thousands of children of the Caucasian race now shout and play. Two miles beyond the Schuylkill, on what is now called the Lancaster turnpike, one Warner, a Dutchman, a squatter and trapper, lived, who had been there for thirteen years. His history is the first link in that abundant chain of narratives which time has forged out since his day. But he did not see Fox, nor Fox him. The good old man, as he trod the Jersey soil, opposite Philadelphia, was utterly unconscious of how near he was to the place where future generations would erect a monument-composed of a living, active race-to his memory, and have it baptized with his principles. Ten years afterward he might have dreamed of such a thing. Then Penn had his charter; then the city was laid out; then the first white child, Driver, was born in Philadelphia. He passed also near New-York; but has not named it in his journal; and at length reached Rhode Island, where he held meetings among the "Friends." And having finished this service, he returned to England.

| The remainder of his life was spent in the work to which he had devoted his youth. When about thirty-six years of age, he married the widow of Judge Fell, one of his early converts. They lived together in great happiness. In his letters, he styled her his "dear heart." She threw no obstacles in the way of his itinerant career, and he therefore continued in it. He was approaching his threescore years and ten, when one day, after preaching, he said he felt cold about his heart, and lay down to rest: but his rest was destined to be long-and the coldness never left the seat of life, and he fell asleep in death.

He shall wake again when the light of immortality shall gild the day of Christ's coming; and perhaps shall be surprised that so many of his spiritual posterity have denied the Lord who bought them, and the resurrection of the dead.