CHAPTER TWELVE.

The beams of the evening sun were streaming through a deep bay window of

the country house of Worminghurst, in Sussex, on the heads of two men

seated at a large oak writing table in a room which, lined as it was

with bookcases, showed that it was devoted to study.

The heads of both of them betokened high intellect, traces of care and

thought being especially discernible on the countenance of the elder,--

that lofty intellect to be quenched, ere a few short years were over, by

the executioner's axe,--a deed as cruel and unjust as any caused by the

cowardice and tyranny of a monarch.

The table was covered with parchments, papers, books, and writing

materials. Both were holding pens in their hands, now and then making

note from the documents before them, at other times stopping and

addressing each other. The younger man was William Penn, who, lately

having obtained a grant of a large tract of country on the American

continent, was now engaged in drawing up a constitution for its

government, assisted by the elder,--the enlightened patriot and

philosopher, Sidney.

"See! such a constitution as this for Carolina will not suit a free

people such as will be our colonists!" said the former, pointing to a

document before him, "albeit it emanated from the brain of John Locke.

Here we have a king, though with the title of palatine, with a whole

court and two orders of nobility. Laws to prevent estates accumulating

or diminishing. The children of leet men to be leet men for ever, while

every free man is to have power over his negro slaves. Truly, society

will thus be bound hand and foot. All political rights to be taken from

the cultivators of the soil. Trial by jury virtually set aside. The

Church of England to be alone the true and orthodox, and to be supported

out of the coffers of the State."

"In truth, no," said Sidney. "John Locke has not emancipated himself

from his admiration of the feudal system. Let this be our principle,--

that those whose lives, properties, and liberties are most concerned in

the administration of the laws shall be the people to form them. Let

there be two bodies to be elected by the people,--a council and an

assembly. Let the council consist of seventy-two persons, to be chosen

by universal suffrage, for three years, twenty-four of them retiring

every year, their places to be supplied by new election. Let the

members of the assembly be elected annually, and all votes taken by

ballot. The suffrage to be universal. Let it have the privilege of

making out the list of persons to be named as justices and sheriffs, and

let the governor be bound to select one half of those thus recommended.

Now we must consider numerous provisional laws relating to liberty of

conscience, provision for the poor, choice of civil officers, and so on,

which can be in force until accepted by the council. We shall thus,

dear friend, I trust, have secured freedom of thought, the sacredness of

person and property, popular control over all powers of the state; and

we will leave our new democracy to develop itself in accordance with its

own genius, unencumbered with useless formalities and laws."

"Yes; I trust that the simplicity of our constitution will secure its

permanence," said Sidney. "I will take the papers home with me to

Penshurst, and there maturely consider over all the points."

Left alone, William Penn might have been seen lifting up his hands in

earnest prayer to heaven that his noble scheme might prosper. He was

interrupted by a knock at the door, and a servant announced a visitor.

In another minute a young man entered the room with modest air and in

sober costume.

"Who art thou?" said Penn, looking up.

"Wenlock Christison," answered the visitor. "I came at the desire of

Friend Mead."

"Yea; I wish to see thee, young friend," said Penn; "but when thou

earnest into the room I did not at first recognise thee. Thou art

somewhat changed, I may say, for the better. Sit down, and I will tell

thee what I require. Look at this map of the American continent. See

this magnificent river,--the Delaware, entering the Atlantic between

Cape Henlopen and Cape May. See those other fine rivers,--the

Susquehannah, the Ohio, and the Alleghany. Here is a country but a

little less than the size of England; its surface covered with a rich

vegetable loam capable of the highest cultivation, and of producing

wheat, barley, rye, Indian corn, hemp, oats, flax. Here too are mighty

forests supplying woods of every kind, abounding too in wild game and

venison, equal to any in England. The rivers are full of fish, oysters,

and crabs in abundance. On the coast the most luscious fruits grow

wild, while the flowers of the forest are superior in beauty to any

found in our native land. A few settlers from Sweden are already there,

and some Hollanders. The native red men have hitherto proved friendly;

and I trust by treating them kindly, with due regard to their just

rights, we may ever remain on brotherly terms with them. They are mere

wanderers over the land, build no cities, nor permanently cultivate the

ground. I trust before to-morrow's sun has set, unless I am deceived,

to obtain a grant of this territory, in lieu of a debt owing by the

government to my father of nearly 15,000 pounds. I wish forthwith to

despatch a vessel with certain commissioners authorised to purchase

lands from the natives; and as Friend Mead has spoken favourably of

thee, it is my wish to send thee with them. Wilt thou accept my offer?

I will tell thee, if thou wilt, more particularly of thy duties."

Wenlock's heart somewhat sunk within him at this proposal. He had been

hoping to make Mary Mead his wife; yet he was sure her father would not

allow her to go forth into a new settlement, and to undergo all the

incidental risks and hardships. How long a time might pass before he

could return, he could not tell. Of one thing only he felt sure, that

she would be faithful to him.

Some time had passed since he left Rotterdam, his friend Van Erk having

given him permission to go over to England to enter the employment of

William Mead. He had, since then, been living in his family, enjoying

an almost daily intercourse with Mary; not yet, however, having obtained

a position to enable him to marry her. Her father had resolved to put

his patience and constancy to the test. Here, however, was a trial he

had not expected; and when Penn had sent for him, he had, with the

sanguine spirit of youth, hoped that it was to receive some appointment

which would enable him to realise the wishes of his heart. Still the

offer was a flattering one, and he felt that it would be unwise in him

to decline it. He therefore, in suitable language, accepted the offer.

"Stay here then," said Penn, "as I have abundance of work for thee for

some days to come, and I will then more fully explain to thee my

wishes."

While Penn was still speaking, a messenger arrived from London. He

brought a summons for him to attend a council at Whitehall, a note from

a friend at court informing him that it was to settle the matter of the

colony. He hastened up to London. In the council chamber were already

assembled his majesty's privy councillors, and at the farther end of the

room was the king himself, hat on head. William Penn, not the least

conspicuous among them for his height and manly bearing, advanced up the

room in his usual dignified manner; but neither did he doff his hat nor

bend his knee before the king's majesty, although he has come in the

hope of obtaining an object among the dearest to his heart.

"I have come at thy desire, and thank thee for the invitation," said

Penn, standing before the king.

"Verily thou art welcome," said the monarch, with a smile on his lips;

at the same time removing his hat and placing it by his side.

"Friend Charles, why dost thou not keep on thy hat?" said Penn with

perfect gravity; at the same time making no attempt to remove his own.

"Ha! ha! ha! knowest thou not, Friend William, that it is the custom of

this place for only one person to remain covered at a time?" answered

the king, laughing heartily. "To business, however, my lords," he

added. "And what name hast thou fixed on for this new province, Master

Penn?"

"As it is a somewhat mountainous country, I would have it called New

Wales," answered the Quaker.

Here Master Secretary Blathwayte, who was a Welshman, interposed; in

reality objecting to have the country of a sect to which he was no

friend called after his native land.

"Well then, as it hath many noble forests, let it be called Sylvania,"

said Penn.

"Nay, nay; but I have a better name still," exclaimed the king. "We

will call it Pennsylvania, in honour of your worthy father,--the great

admiral. The forest land of Penn, that shall be it; and my word shall

be as the law of the Medes and Persians."

At this the courtiers laughed, not, perchance, considering the king's

word of much value. However, the name was thus fixed, the patent being

then and there issued under the king's inspection.

With the charter in his possession, Penn returned home to make the final

arrangements with Sidney for the great work he had undertaken. The

document was written on a roll of parchment. At the head of the first

sheet there is a well-executed portrait of Charles the Second, while the

borders are handsomely emblazoned with heraldic devices. Great had been

the opposition made to Penn's receiving this grant. Sidney had come

back to Worminghurst.

"God hath given it to me in the face of the world," exclaimed Penn, as

the friends met. "He will bless and make it the seed of a nation."

Truly has that prediction been fulfilled.

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