ing more of the spirit and sweets of devotion in these warm little exercises with one another, than in the cold formalities at the established church, they began to absent themselves, and to spend their sabbaths together in the aforesaid excellent way. This their secession from the church was soon noticed by the professors of the college, and with much pain, on account indeed of them all, but chiefly of William Penn, partly because of his father, a favourite officer with the nation, but still more for himself, whose extraordinary talents at the green age of fifteen, had advanced him to the first honours of the University, and whose singular sweetness of spirit and many manly virtues had rendered him the object of general partiality. "A youth of such amiableness and promise, was not to be lost." He was of course sent for by the principal, who, with an air of parental tenderness, began with him by expressing his regret, that he had not followed the advice he lately gave him. He also expressed his astonishment that a young man of his rank and genius should so dishonour both, by exchanging the rational and dignified service of the church, for a worship so insipid and childish as that of the quakers.

William replied, with great modesty, that Christ himself had invited the little children to come unto him; for that his kingdom, or church, was composed of such. He added, "that however the great ones of this world, when waited on by their inferiors, might look for pomp and parade; yet to the Almighty all this was abomination in comparison of that approach of the soul to him in the meek and docile spirit of a child."

The principal branded all this as mere delusion, and entreated him, by all that he owed his parents, to whom he might afford a long life of comfort-by all that he owed his country, to which he might be a bright ornament-and by all that he owed the church, to whose glory such talents and early piety as his would

greatly conduce, to give up his fanatical notions, and return to the faith he was born and brought up in.

William replied, that all this was very flattering, and far beyond any thing he could think himself entitled to; but that if it were ten times greater, he could not grieve the Spirit and darken the Light within him.

This latter phrase appeared to hurt the principal; for knitting his brow, he said, he hoped Mr. Penn would not compel him to use severe measures.

William asked what he meant by that.

"Why, sir, I shall be obliged to indict you for nonconformity."

That is, in plain English, you mean to persecute me; to drive me to your church contrary to my own reason and conscience. And what good can you expect to do me by that?"

"It is to keep you, sir, from the crying sin of schism. There cannot be a greater sin, sir, than for Christians to separate from one another."

"I see no ground, sir," said William, "for such a fear. I do not see how Christians can possibly separate from one another in a bad sense of the word. The lambs of the fold never separate, yea, though they may differ in the colours of their fleeces, some white and some black, yet still being all the same in innocence and gentleness, they do not separate, but cleave to one another by a natural affection. Even so, and indeed much more must Christians cleave to one another. I am sure they have infinitely sweeter and dearer ties to bind them together. For what is it, sir, that makes real Christians but perfect love out of a PURE HEART;' and how can they who possess it themselves, but be charmed in others with that blessed spirit which is to do away all fraud and violence from the earth, and fill it with all the precious fruits of universal righteousness?"

"Well then, sir," said the principal, how can you separate from the good Christians of our church, and

that too the very church your were born and brought up in ?"

William replied, with the trepidation of one who feared he should give offence, that he had retired from the church he was born and brought up in, because he had not found in it what he prized above all thingsthe sweet society of loving Christians.

To this the principal returned with warmth, that it was great presumption in one so young as he was, to pass such a sentence on any church, and especially on the venerable mother church of the nation.

"I was afraid, sir," replied William, "that you would be offended. I did not wish it: but as you talked of persecuting and fining me for non-conformity, I felt it a duty to tell you my reasons. And now, sir, let me add, that, though I do not pretend to know their hearts, yet while I sce among the members of the church, so little of the spirit of Christ, so little love for their brethren, or so little delight in doing them good; and, ou the other hand, so much pride, and hate, and revenge, and flesh-pleasing of all sorts, how can I think them loving Christians?"

A profound silence ensued; when the principal, calling him "an incorrigible young man," took up his hat; and, as he turned to go away, advised him to look sharp, and be constant at church, or he should soon hear from him again.

But to cut short this shameful story, I will just first inform the reader, that William Penn and his religious young friends, for "assembling themselves together to worship God, contrary to law," were summoned before the HIGHER POWERS, and severely fined!!

CHAPTER VII.

As soon as it was known in college that he had turned Quaker, that he had been cited before the principal, and fined for non-conformity, the looks and manners of his acquaintance were sadly altered towards him; and he had the mortification to find that those who had caressed and courted him, because of his talents and high standing, now squinted at him as though he had just come out of the pillory.

That William Penn, by bravely combining the wisdom of the serpent with the harmlessness of the dove, might ultimately have borne down this prejudice, and turned his enemies into friends, there can be no doubt. People may laugh at the Quakers if they please, but laughing cannot alter the nature of things. Born to be happy, men naturally love happiness, and hate misery. And as virtue naturally makes men happy, and vice naturally makes them miserable, this natural loveliness of the one and hatefulness of the other, will force themselves upon us in spite of all the nicknames we can give 'em. And this conviction will daily grow stronger, as we grow wiser to understand the curses of the one and the blessings of the other. The young man who, by lies, keeps his acquaintance in hot water --or picks their pockets by his gambling-or cuts their throats in duels,-will quickly be abhorred, no matter how much he is cried up as a Churchman. While the youth who is uniformly virtuous and good humoured, will soon become the esteem and love of all, even though fools should at first laugh at him as a Quaker. That young Penn and his friends, by dint of persevering prudence and affection, would have gained this triumph, is unquestionable. But oh the weakness of poor human nature! how prone to error, and by excess of folly to throw "dead flies into the apothecary's sweetest ointment." These same young men, viz.

D

Wm. Penn & Co. who but a few days before had been smartly taxed for not conforming to other people's no tions, were ready now to tax others for not conforming to their notions; and having given up all variety of dress themselves, they thought that others ought to do so too, and even to be compelled to do it. This is confirmed by their own act; for meeting some of their young college acquaintance in dresses that to them seemed highly fantastical and unchristian, they began to remonstrate with them against such levity: and be cause the young fellows laughed at them as "fanatics," they fell upon them outright, and by main force ren' their clothes from their shoulders!! This most impu dent act was to William Penn like the uncorking of the vial of the seventh angel. It was followed by such floods and storms of trouble, that had not his mind been stayed on the "rock of ages," he must have been utterly swept away. He was instantly cited before the Professors and Trustees of the College, in the presence of the assembled students, and after having his conduct arraigned of such hypocrisy and folly as were sufficient to burn his cheeks to cinders, he was formal ly expelled!

This, though a most severe trial to an ingenuous youth like William Penn, was but a trifle in compari son of what he yet saw before him—the red fiery tem pest of his father's face when he should be told of his expulsion from college, and the cause of it! and. worse still, the sudden paleness of his dear mother' checks, and her starting tears, on hearing of his disgrace. Willing, long as possible to delay giving them this pain, he purposely declined writing to his parents. preferring to be the bearer himself. Accordingly he set out for Penn's Dale, where his sudden appearance struck them with surprise. "Hallo William !" cried his father with joy, giving him his hand; why, what, my son! returned to port aiready! I hope you hav'nt met with foul weather!" His mother, roused by the