« PreviousContinue »
Jons. In his love of controversy and of printiig, indeed, this worthy sectary seems to have >een the very Priestley of the 17th century, rie not only responded in due form to every л-ork in which the principles of his sect were iirectlyor indirectly attacked,—but whenever ,'.' heard a sermon that he did not like,— )r learned that any of the Friends had been ¡fut in the stocks ;—whenever he was prerented from preaching,—or learned any ediying particulars of the death of a Quaker, or jf a persecutor of Quakers, he was instantly it the press, with a letter, or a narrative, or m admonition—and never desisted from the contest till he had reduced the adversary to silence.
The members of the established Church, indeed, were rarely so unwary as to make any rejoinder; and most of his disputes, accordingly, were with rival sectaries; in whom the «pint of proselytism and jealous zeal is always stronger than in the members of a larger and moi-e powerful body. They were not always contented indeed with the regular and general war of the press, but frequently challenged each other to personal combat, in the form of solemn and public disputations. William Penn rnd the honour of being repeatedly appointed the champion of the Quakers in these theological duels; and never failed, according to his partial biographer, completely to demolish his opponent;—though it appears that he did not always meet with perfectly fair play, and that the chivalrous law of arms was by no means correctly observed in these ghostly encounters. His first set to, was with one Vincent. the oracle of a neighbouring congregation of Presbyterians; and affords rather a ludicrous example of the futility and indecorum which are apt to characterise all such exhibitions.— After the debate had gone on for some time, Vincent made a long discourse, in which he openly accused the Quakers of blasphemy; and as soon as he had done, he made off, and desired all his friends to follow him. Penn insisted upon being heard in reply: but the Presbyterian troops pulled him down by the skirts; and proceeding to blow out the candles, (for the battle had already lasted till midnight,) left the indignant orator in utter darkness! He was not to be baffled or appalled, however, by a privation of this description; and accordingly went on to argue and retort in the dark, with such force and effect, that it was thought advisable to send out for his fugitive opponent, who, after some time, reappeared with a candle in his hand, and begged that the debate might be adjourned to another day. But he could never be prevailed on, Mr. Clarkson assures us, to renew the combat; and Penn, after going and defying him in his own meeting-house, had recourse, as usual, to the press; and put forth "The Sandy Foundation Shaken," for which ne had the pleasure of being committed to the Tower, on the instigation of the Bishop of London; and solaced himself, during his confinement, by writing six other pamphlets. Soon after his deliverance, he was again liken up, and brought to trial before the Lord
Mayor and Recorder for preaching in a Quaker meeting. He afterwards publ ished an account of this proceeding;—and it is in our opinion one of the most curious and instructive pieces that ever came from his pen. The times to which it relates, are sufficiently known to have been times of gross oppression and judicial abuse ;—but the brutality of the Court upon this occasion seems to us to exceed any thing that is recorded elsewhere ;— and the noble firmness of the jury still deserves to be remembered, for example to happier days. The prisoner came into court, according to Quaker costume, with his hat on his head ;—but the doorkeeper, with a due zeal for the dignity of the place, pulled it off as he entered.—Upon this, nowever, the Loid Mayor became quite furious, and ordered the unfortunate beaver to be instantly replaced— which was no sooner done than he fined the poor culprit for appearing covered in his presence ! — William Penn now insisted upon knowing what law he was accused of having broken,—to which simple question the Recorder was reduced to answer, "that he was an impertinent fellow,—and that many had studied thirty or forty years to understand the law, which he was for having expounded in a moment!" The learned controversialist however was not to be silenced so easily ;—ho quoted Lord Coke and Magna Charta on his antagonist in a moment; and chastised his insolence by one of the best and most characteristic repartees that we recollect ever to have met with. "I tell you to be silent," cried the Recorder, in a great passion; "if we should suffer you to ask questions till to-morrow morning, you will be never the wiser!"— "That," replied the Quaker, with his immovable tranquillity, "that is, according as the answers are."—"Take him away, take him away?" exclaimed the Mayor and the Recorder in a breath—"turn him into the Bale Dock ;"—and into the Bale Dock, a filthy and pestilent dungeon in the neighbourhood, he was accordingly turned—discoursing calmly all the way on Magna Charter and the righta of Englishmen;—while the courtly Recorder delivered a very animated charge to the Jury, in the absence of the prisoner.
The Jury, however, after a short consultation, brought in a verdict, finding him merely "guilty of speaking in Grace-Church Street." For this cautious and most correct deliverance, they were loaded with reproaches by the Court, and sent out to amend their verdict,— but in half an hour they returned with the same ingenious finding, written out at large, and subscribed with all their names. The Court now became more furious than ever, and shut them up without meat, drink, or fire, till next morning; when they twice over came back with the same verdict;—npon which they were reviled, and threatened so outrageously by the Recorder, that William Penn protest eil against this plain intimidation of the persons, to whose free suffrages the law had entrusted his cause. The answer of the Recorder was, "Stop his mouth, jailor—bring fetter» and stake him to the ground." William Penn replied with the temper of a Quaker, and the spirit of a martyr, “Do your pleasure—I matter not your fetters!” And the Recorder took occasion to observe, “that, till now, he had never understood the policy of the Spaniards in suffering the Inquisition among them. But now he saw that it would never be well with us, till we had something like the Spanish Inquisition in England l’” After this sage remark, the Jury were again sent back,-and kept other twenty-four hours, without food or refreshment. On the third day, the natural and glorious effect of this brutality on the spirits of Englishmen was at length produced. Instead of the special and unmeaning form of their first verdict, they now, all in one voice, declared the prisoner Not GUILTY. The Recorder again broke out into abuse and menace; and, after “praying God to keep his life out of such hands,” proceeded, we really do not see on what pretext, to fine every man of them in forty so and to order them to prison till payment. William Penn then demanded his liberty; but was ordered into custody till he o the fine imposed on him for wearing his at; and was forthwith dragged away to his old lodging in the Bale Dock, while in the very act of quoting the twenty-ninth chapter the Great Charter, “Nullus liber homo,” &c. As he positively refused to acknowledge the legality of this infliction by paying the fine, he might have lain long enough in this dungeon; but his father, who was now reconciled to him, sent the money privately; and he was at last set at liberty. The spirit, however, which had dictated these proceedings was not likely to cease from troubling; and, within less than a year, the K. Quaker was again brought before the agistrate on an accusation of illegal preaching; and was again about to be dismissed for want of evidence, when the worthy Justice ingeniously bethought himself of tendering to the Fo the oath of allegiance, which, as well as every other oath, he well knew that his principles would oblige him to refuse. Instead of the oath, W. Penn, accordingly offered to give his reasons for not swearing; but the Magistrate refused to hear him: and an altercation ensued, in the course of which the Justice having insinuated, that, in spite of his sanctified exterior, the young preacher was as bad as other folks in his practice, the Quaker forgot, for one moment, the systematic meekness and composure of his sect, and burst out into this triumphant appeal—
“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 one 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 pollutions, and who from a child begot an hatred in me towards them. Thy words shall be thy burthen, and I trample thy slander as dirt under my feet!”—pp, 99, 100.
The greater part of the audience confirmed this statement; and the judicial calumniator had nothing for it, but to sentence this unreasonable Puritan to six months' imprisonment
in Newgate; where he amused himself, as usual, by writing and publishing four pamphlets in support of his opinions. It is by no means our intention, however, to digest a chronicle either of his persecutions or his publications. In the earlier part of his career, he seems to have been in prison every six months; and, for a very considerable pe. riod of it, certainly favoured the world with at least six new pamphlets every year. In all these, as well as in his public appearances there is a singular mixture of earnestness and sobriety—a devotedness to the cause in which he was engaged, that is almost sublime; and a temperance and patience towards his opponents, that is truly admirable: while in the whole of his private life, there is redundant testimony, even from the mouths of his enemies, that his conduct was pure and philanthropic in an extraordinary degree, and distino at the some time for singular prudence and judgment in all ordinary affairs. His virtues and his sufferings appear at last to have overcome his father's objections to his peculiar tenets, and a thorough and cordial reconciliation took place previous to their final separation. On his death-bed, indeed, the admiral is said to have approved warmly of every part of his son's conduct; and to have predicted, that “if he and his friends kept to their plain way of preaching and of living they would speedily make an end of the priests, to the end of the world.”—By his father's death he succeeded to a handsome es. tate, then yielding upwards of 1500l. a year; but made no change either in his professions or way of life. He was at the press and in Newgate, after this event, exactly as before: and defied and reviled the luxury of the age, just as vehemently, when he was in a condition to partake of it, as in the days of his poverty. Within a short time after his succes. sion, he made a pilgrimage to Holland and Germany in company with George Fox; where it is said that they converted many of all ranks, including young ladies of quality and old professors of divinity. They were ill used, however, by a surly Graf or two, who sent them out of their dominions under a corporal’s guard; an attention which they repaid, by long letters of expostulation and advice. which the worthy Grass were probably neither very able nor very willing to read. In the midst of these labours and trials, he found time to marry a lady of great beauty and accomplishments; and settled himself in a comfortable and orderly house in the coun try—but, at the same time, remitted nothin: of his zeal and activity in support of the cause in which he had embarked. When the penal statutes against Popish recusants were about to be passed, in 1678, by the tenor of which, certain grievous punishments were inflicted upon all who did not frequent the established church, or purge themselves upon oath, from Popery, William Penn was allowed to be heard before a Committee of the House of Commons, in support of the Quakers' application for some exemption from the unintended severity of these edicts;–and what has been preserved irf his speech, upon that occasion, certainly is not the least respectable of his performances. It required no ordinary magnanimity for any one, Hi the very- height of the frenzy of the Popish plot, boldly to tell the House of Commons, "that it was unlawful to inflict punishment upon Catholics themselves, on account of a conscientious dissent." This, however, William Penn did, with the firmnessof a true philosopher; but, at the same time, with so much of the meekness and humility of a Quaker, that he was heard without offence or interruption :—and having thus put in his protest against the general principle of intolerance, he proceeded to plead his own cause, and that of his brethren, with admirable force and temper as follows :—
"I was bred a Protestant, and that etricily too. I lost nothing by time or study. For years, rending, travel, and observation, made the religion of my education the religion of my judgment. My alteration hath brought none lo tnat belief; and though l he posture I am in may eeem 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 acain. and here solemnly declare, in the presence of the Almighty God, and before you 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 hy those first Protestants and Reformers nf Germany, and our own martyrs at home, against !h? see of Rome: And therefore it is, we think it hard, that though we deny in common with yon those doctrines of Rome so zealously protested against, (from whence the name of Protestants,) yet that we should be so unhappy as to suffer, and that with extreme severity, by laws made only 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 mink ourselves an useful people. We are sure we are я peaceable people; vet, if we must still suffer, let us not suffer as Pop»h Recusants, but as Protestant Dissenters."
pp. 220, 221.
About the same period we find him closely leagued with no less a person than Algernon Sydney, and busily employed in canvassing for him in the burgh of Guildford. But the most important of his occupations at this time wen; those which connected him with that region which was destined to be the scene nf his greatest and most memorable exertions. An accidental circumstance had a few years before engaged him in some inquiries with regard to the state of that district in North America, since called New Jersey, and Pennsylvania. A great part of this territory had been granted by the Crown to the family of Lord Berkeley, who had recently sold a large part of it to a Quaker of the name of Billynge: and this person having fallen into pecuniary embarrassments, prevailed upon William Penn to accept of a conveyance of this property, and to undertake the management of it, as trustee for his creditors. The conscientious trustee applied himself lo the discharge of this duty with nig habitual scrupulousness and activity;—and having speedily made himself acquainted with the condition and capabilities
of the great province in question, was immediately struck with the opportunity it afforded,, both for a beneficent arrangement of the interests of its inhabitants, and for providing a pleasant and desirable retreat for such of his own communion as might be willing to leave their native land in pursuit of religious liberty. The original charter had vested the proprietor, under certain limitations, with the power ut legislation ; and one of the first works of William Penn was to draw up a sort of constitution for the land vested in Billynge—the cardinal foundation of which was, that no man should be troubled, molested, or subjected to any disability, on account of his religion. He then superintended the embarkation of two or three ship-loads of Quakers, who set off for this land of promise;—and continued, from time to time, both to hear so much of their prosperity, and to feel how much a larger proprietor might have it in his power to promote and extend it, that he at length conceived the idea of acquiring to himself a much larger district, and founding a settlement upon a still more liberal and comprehensive plan. The means of doing this were providentially placed in his hand?, by the circumstance of his father having a claim upon the dissolute and needy government of the day, for no less than 16,000/.,—in lieu of which W. Penn proposed that the district, since called Pennsylvania, should be made over to him, with such ample powers of administration, as made him little less than absolute sovereign of the country. The right of legislation was left entirely to him, and such councils as he might appoint; with no other limitation, than that his laws should be liable to be rescinded by the Privy Council of England, within six months after they were reported to it. This memorable charter was signed on the 4th of March, 1681. He originally intended, that the country should have been called New Wales; but the Undersecretary of State, being a Welshman, thought, it seems, that this was using too much liberty with the ancient principality, and objected to it! He then suggested Sylvan ¡a; but the king himself insisted upon adding Penn to it, —and after some struggles of modesty, it was found necessary to submit to his gracious desires.
He now proceeded to encourage settlers of all sorts,—but especially such sectaries as were impatient of the restraints and persecutions to which they were subjected in England; and published certain conditions and regulations, " the first fundamental of which," as he expresses it, was, "That every person should enjoy the free profession of his faith, and exercise of worship towards God, in such a way as he shall in his conscience believe is most acceptable; and should be protected in this liberty by the authority of the civil magistrate." With regard to the native inhabitants. he positively enacted, that "whoever should hurt, wrong, or offend any Indian, should incur the same penalty as if he had offended in like manner against his fellow planter ;:! and that the planters should not be their own judges in case of any difference with the I:;
diane, but that all such differences should be settled by twelve referees, six Indians and six planters; under the direction, if need were, of the Governor of the province, and the Chief, or King of the Indians concerned. Under these wise and merciful regulations, three ships full of passengers sailed for the new province in the end of 1681. In one of these was Colonel Markham, a relation of Penn's, and intended to act as his secretary when he should himself arrive. He was the chief of several commissioners, who were appointed to confer with the Indians with regaid to the cession or purchase of their lands, and the terms of a perpetual peace,—and was the bearer of the following letter to them from the Governor, a part of which we think worthy of being transcribed, for the singular plainness, and engaging honesty, of its manner.
"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 paiience unto you. This I hear hath been a matter of trouble to you. and caused great grudging and animosities, sometimes to the shedding of blood. 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, just, and peaceable life; and the people I send are of the same mind, and shall in all things behave themselves accordingly; and if in any thing any shall offend you or your people, you shall have a full and speedy satisfaction lor the same, by an equal number of just men on both sides, that by no means you may have just occasion of being offended against them.
"I shall shortly come to see you myself, at which time we may more largely and freely confer and discourse of these matters. In the mean time I have 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, peaceably, and friendly with you. I am, your loving Friend,
In the course of the succeeding year, he prepared to follow these colonists; and accordingly embarked, with about an hundred other Quakers, in the month of September, 1682. Before separating himself, however, from his family on this long pilgrimage, he addressed a long letter of love and admonition to his wife and children, from which we are tempted to make a pretty large extract for the entertainment and edification of our readers. There is something, we think, very touching and venerable in the affectionateness of its whole strain, and the patriarchal simplicity in which it is conceived; while the language appears to us to be one of the most beautiful specimens of that soft and mellow English, which, with all its redundancy and cumbrous volume, has, to our ears, a far richer and more pathetic sweetness than the epigrams and apothegms of modem times. The letter begins in this manner—
"My dear Wife and Children, "My love, which neither sea, nor land, nor death i(*elf, ran extinguish or leseen toward you, most
endearedly visits yon with eternal embrace«, vh will abide with you for ever: and may the God of my life watch over you, and ble« you, and do jot good in this world and for ever !—Some things r; upon my spirit to leave with you in your гг9рсс:ле capacities, as I am to one a husband, and to 'Ы rest a father, if I should never see you mart in dm world.
"My deer wife! remember thou wast the 1?те of my youth, and much the joy of my life; ut most beloved, as well as most worthy of all Bj earthly comforts: and the reason of that lore me more thy inward than thy outward excellent-«!. which yet were many. God knows, and tbn knowest it, I can say it was a match of Providers > making; and God's image in us both wu tbt ira thing, and the most amiable and engaging errsment in our eyes. Now 1 am to leave thee. s-j that without knowing whether I shall everseetb« more in this world, take my counsel into thf boon, and let it dwell with thee in my stead while dm live«."
Then, after some counsel about godlinew and economy, he proceeds—
"And now, my dearest, let me recommend ч thy care my dear children; abundantly belertdof me, as the Lord's blessings, and the sweet picofi of our mutual and endeared affection. Above til things endeavour to breed them up in the km of virtue, and that holy plain way of it which *e hut lived in, that the world in no part of it get im* my family. I had rather they were homely tbm finely bred as to outward behaviour; yd I Ion sweetness mixed with gravity, and cheerfalne» tempered with sobriety. Religion in the heanltaé into this true civility, leaching men and wonie: 'o be mild and courteous in their behaviour; u » complishment worthy indeed of praise.
"Next breed them up in a love one of апмЫт: tell them it is the charge 1 left behind me; and that it is the way to have the love and ble<xr£ •." God upon them. Somo'.imee separate them, tat not long ; and allow thorn to send and pit Mci other small things, to endear one another «iii Once more I say, tell them it was my eounwl >r?i should be tender and affectionate one to »w«r For their learning be liberal. Spare no cost; 6» by such parsimony all is lost that is sated: bot te it be useful knowledge, such as is consisten: ».'h truth and godliness, not cherishing a vain «remsv tion or idle mind; but ingenuity mixed with Ыаtry is good for the body and the mind loo. Ei:Í?: keep an ingenious person in the house m iet>i them, than send them to schools; too пилт ei! impressions being commonly received there. E« sure to observe their genius, and do not cress i: u to learning; let them not dwell too long ол ^' thing; but let their change be agreeable, tsd i! their diversions have some little bodily Itbocr :i them. When grown big, have most care for ibesi: for then there are more snares, both whom vi without. When marriageable, see that they bin worthy persons in their eve, of good life, and g»*l fame for piety and understanding. I dewre w wealth, but sufficiency; and be sure their lote b« dear, fervent, and mutual, that it may be happt tr them. I choose not they should be roamed w enrthly, covetous kindred: and of cities and town of concourse, beware: the world is ipl Ю «vi close to those who have lived and got wealth 'bcrr: a country life and estate I like best for my chinb.-n I prefer a decent mansion of a hundred pounds p?r annum, before ten thousand pounds in London. <x such like place, in a way of trade."
He next addresses himself to his childre;.
"Be obedient to your dear mother, a worn»» whose virtue and good name is an honour to roc; for she hath been exceeded by поле in her urn« l>" her integrity, humanity, virtue, and good und«" standing; qualities not usual among women of her worldly condition and quality. Therefore honour and obey her, my dear children, as your mother, and your father's lovo and delight; nay, love her too, for ehe 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 she descended lo the utmost tenderness and care for you, performing the painfulleat acts of service to you in your infancy, as a mother and a nurse too. I charge yon, before the Lord, honour and obey, love and cherish your deir mother."
After a great number of other affectionate counsels, he turns particularly to his elder boys.
"And as for you, who are likely to be concerned in the government of Pennsylvania, I do charge you before the Lord God and his holy angels, that you be lowly, diligent, and tender; feanng God, loving the people, and hating covetousness. bet justice have its impartial course, and the law free passage. Though lo your loes, protect no man against it; for you are not above the law, hut the law above you. Live therefore the lives yourselves you would have the people live, and then shall you have 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, end hear with your own ears. Entertain no lurchers; cherish no informers for gain or revenge; ose no tricks; fly to no devices to support or cover injustice ; but let your hearts be upright before ihe Lord, trusting in him above the contrivances of men, «nd none shall be able to hurt or supplant you."
We should like to see any private letter of instructions from a sovereign to his heir-apparent, that will bear a comparison with the injunctions of this honest Sectary. He concludes as follows :—
"Finally, my children, love one another with a true endeared love, and your dear relations on boih ¿ides, and take care to preserve tender affection in your children to each other, often marrving wiihin themselves, so as it be without the bounds forbidden in God's law, that so they may not, like the forgetting unnatural world, grow out of kindred, and as cold as strangers; but, as becomes a truly natural and Christian stock, you and yours after you, may live in the pure and fervent love of God towards one another, as becoming brethren in the spiritual • nd natural relation.
"So farewell to my thrice dearly beloved wife arid children! "Yours, as God pleaseth, in that which no
waters can quench, no time forget, nor distance
wear away, but remains for ever,
"William Pehn." "Wormingharst. fourth of
si till month. 16Й2."
Immediately after writing this letter, he embarked, and arrived safely in the Delaware with all his companions. The country assigned to him by the royal charter was yet full of its original inhabitants; and the principles of William Penn did not allow him to look upon that gift as a warrant to dispossess the first proprietors of the land. He had accordingly appointed his commissioners, the preceding year, to treat with them for the lair purchase of a part of their lands, and for their joint possession of the remainder; and the terms of the settlement being now nearly agreed upon, he proceeded, very soon after hie arrival, to conclude the transac
tion, and solemnly to pledge his faith, and to ratify and confirm the treaty, in sight both of the Indians and Planters. For this purpose a grand convocation of the tribes had been appointed near the spot where Philadelphia now stands; and it was agreed that he and the presiding Sachems should meet and exchange faith, under the spreading branches of a prodigious elm-tree that grew on the bank of the river. On the day appointed, accordingly, an innumerable multitude of the Indians assembled in that neighbourhood; and were seen, with their dark visages and brandished arms, moving, in vast swarms, in the depth of the woods which then overshadowed the whole of that now cultivated region. On the other hand, William Penn, with a moderate attendance of Friends, advanced to meet them. He came of course unarmed—in his usual plain dress—without banners, or mace, or guards, or carriages : and only distinguished from his companions by wearing a blue sash of silk network (which it seems is still preserved by Mr. Kelt of Seething-hall, near Norwich), and by having in his hand a roll of parchment, on which was engrossed the confirmation of the treaty of purchase and amity. As soon as he drew near the spot where the Sachems were assembled, the whole multitude of Indians threw down their weapons, and seated themselves on Ihe ground in groups, each under his own chieftain; and the presiding chief intimated to William Penn, that the nations were ready to hear him. Mr. Clarkson regrets, and we cordially join in the sentiment, that there is no written, contemporary account of the particulars attending this interesting and truly novel transaction. He assures us, however, that they are still in a great measure preserved in oral tradition, and that both what we have just stated, and what follows, may be relied on as perfectly accurate. The sequel we give in his own words.
"Having been thus called upon, he began. The Great Spirit, he said, who made him and them, who ruled the Heaven 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 inmost of their power. It was not iheir 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 ihen met on the broad pathway of good faith and good will, so that no advantage was to be taken on either side, but all was to be openness, brotherhood, and love. After these and other words, he unrolled the parchment, and by means of ihe same interpreter conveyed to them, article by ariicle, ihe conditions of the Purchase, and the Words of the Compact then made for iheir eternal Union. Among other things, they were not to be molested in their lawful pursuits, even in the territory they had alienated, for it wns to be common to them and the English. They were to have the sanie liberty to do all ihings therein relating to the improvement of their grounds, and providing sustenance for their families, which the bnglish had. If any disputea should arise between the two, they should be settled by twelve persons, half of whom should be English, and halt Indians. He then paid them for the land; and made them many présents besides, from the merchandize which had been spread before