A family of Quakers from Pennsylvania settled at the west in a remote place, then exposed to savage incursions. They had not been there long before a party of Indians, panting for blood, started on one of their terrible excursions against the whites, and passed in the direction of the Quaker's abode; but, though disposed at first to assail him and his family as enemies, they were received with such open-hearted confidence, and treated with such cordiality and kindness, as completely disarmed them of their purpose. They came forth, not against such persons, but against their enemies. They thirsted for the blood of those who had injured them; but these children of peace, unarmed and entirely defenceless, met them only with accents of love, and deeds of kindness. It was not in the heart even of a savage to harm them; and, on leaving the Quaker's house, the Indians took a white feather, and stuck it over the door, to designate the place as a sanctuary not to be harmed by their brethren in arins. Nor was it harmed. The war raged all around it; the forest echoed often to the Indian's yell, and many a white man's hearth was drenched in his own blood; but over the Quaker's humble abode gently waved the white feather of peace, and beneath it his family slept without harm or fear.

The early history of America is replete with such instances of personal preservation. Most horrible was the Indian's mode of wreaking vengeance on his foes. By day he lurked in ambush along their path, and shot them down without warning; at night he prowled around their pillow of repose, kindled the flames over their heads, and made their own dwelling their funeral pile. From such dangers most of the inhabitants sought safety by retiring to fortified places; and persons, when compelled to pass beyond the range of such protection, provided themselves with arms for their defence. Such was the general policy; but the Quakers, true to their pacific principles, would neither arm themselves, nor retire to garrisons. While their neighbors were flying to forts for safety, they remained openly in the country, and pursued their ordinary occupations at home, or in the field, without a weapon for annoyance or defence. Were they butchered in cold blood? No; they all escaped unhurt except three. And how came these to fall victims? They abandoned their pacific principles, and then were killed, not as men of peace, but solely as men of blood. Two were men who had been wont to pursue their labors in the open field without weapons, in simple reliance on God; but, being seized with fear, they took weapons for their defence, and the Indians who had hitherto spared them as peace-men, now regarded them as enemies, and shot them. The third victim was a widow who refused for a time the proffered shelter of a garrison, and continued with her children safe in her defenceless habitation; but, impelled at length by "a slavish fear," she took refuge by night in a fort not far from her dwelling, and soon after the Indians waylaid and killed her.

The efficacy of peace principles, however, is not restricted to Quakers, but extends to all of like faith and practice. A multi

351

SAFETY OF PACIFIC PRINCIPLES.

tude of proofs might be gathered from Indian history; but we will
content ourselves with a single one from the banks of the Piscat-
aqua. Several villages early began to rise there as far up as what
is now Dover, N. H. Their intercourse with the tawny sons of
the forest was not always that of enemies; the latter often came
forth to visit their white brethren on terms of friendship; and, on
one of those occasions, a squaw, with her infant suddenly taken
ill, sought a place for shelter and repose. A widow, alone with
her family on the outskirts of the settlement, kindly welcomed
them to her humble abode, nursed the sick babe as her own, and,
when it was restored to health, sent them on their way with her
blessing. That deed of kindness was not lost. Years rolled on;
but the Indian did not forget his humble benefactor. Strife arose
between the two races; and the Indians prepared to empty upon
the place the vials of their wrath. They surrounded it at dead of
night; but, before striking a single blow, they sought the poor
widow's house, and placed there a guard, lest some of their war-
riors should, in their ignorance or heedless rage, wreak upon their
friend a vengeance aimed only at their foes. This done, they
went to their work of fire and blood; nor did they stay their hand
until the settlement was in flames, and most of its inhabitants, save
the widow and her children, were butchered, or made captives.

Such is the power of peace over savages; can it be less influen-
tial over civilized men? To this we might quote many an answer
from the ferocious and terrible rebellion of 1798 in Ireland. Sel-
dom has there been warfare more savage, passions more fierce, or
the spirit of revenge more blood-thirsty and remorseless. It was
a fiendish conflict, the death-struggle of neighbor against neigh-
bor, of brother against brother. The gangrene pervaded the whole
community; every body was required to take sides, and none al-
lowed in safety to remain neutral. Yet the Quakers, firm in their
faith, did continue neutral and pacific, friends to all, enemies to
none. Anticipating the storm, they had prepared to meet it by
girding themselves anew with their principles, by destroying what-
ever weapons they chanced to have in their possession, and by
exhorting each other to stand fast in their peaceful faith. The
storm came, and Ireland was drenched in fraternal blood. The
Quakers, in going to their places of worship, were sometimes
obliged to pass over fields of dead bodies; and repeatedly did
each party in turn threaten to burn their meeting-houses over their
heads, or butcher them in their own homes. The bloody strife
raged week after week all around them, and up to their very doors;
their own domestics were instigated to destroy them; their houses
were entered by exasperated soldiers on purpose to kill them; and
often did it seem well nigh impossible for them to escape a general
massacre. Still the Quakers trusted in God, and were safe. Per-
sisting in their ordinary attendance on his worship, in their refusal
to take any part in the contest, and in their habits of equal kindness
to sufferers from both factions, they came ere long to be respected,
trusted and loved by all, and their houses became places of refuge
to fugitives from each party. Their faith made them at length the

mediators, the guardian angels of a warring community; and the badge of a Quaker, regarded at first as a sure precursor of death or violence, came in the end to be a sort of talisman, a passport to safety and universal confidence. Their principles proved, under God, a far better protection than the sword; for they lost only one of their number, and that one a victim, not to his principles of peace, but to his own folly in renouncing them. Losing his confidence in their power to protect, he dressed himself in regimentals for safety; and then he was shot, not as a peace-man, but as a man of blood. How strongly does such an exception confirm the general rule!

The same principles insured equal protection to others during the Irish Rebellion. The rebels, who had long meditated an attack upon the Moravian settlement at Grace Hill, marched at length a large body of men into the town; but the Moravians, true to their principles, offered no resistance, and no means of violent defence. God was their trust. Assembled in their chapel, they besought him to be their shield in that hour of their danger; and he gave at once a most signal answer to their prayers. The infuriated soldiers were astonished at a sight so contrary to their expectations; they paused, and listened to the devotions of their intended victims; they heard the Moravians imploring mercy for their expected murderers; such an exhibition of the Christian spirit, of the peace principle, disarmed their rage; and, after lingering in the streets a day and a night, they turned and marched off without killing or injuring a single individual.

The principle, too, is just as safe for communities as for individuals. "I have read," says Mrs. L. M. Child, "of a certain regiment ordered to march into a small town, (in the Tyrol, I think,) and take it. It chanced that the place was settled by a colony who believed the gospel of Christ, and proved their faith by works. A courier from a neighboring village informed them that troops were advancing to take the town. They quietly answered, if they will take it, they must.' Soldiers soon came, riding in with colors flying, and fifes piping their shrill defiance. They looked round for an enemy, and saw the farmer at his plough, the blacksmith at his anvil, and the women at their churns and spinning-wheels. Babies crowed to hear the music, and boys ran out to see the pretty trainers, with feathers and bright buttons, 'the harlequins of the nineteenth century.' Of course none of these were in a proper position to be shot at. 'Where are your soldiers?' they asked. We have none,' was the brief reply. But we have come to take the town.' 'Well, friends, it lies before you.' 'But is there nobody here to fight?' 'No, we are all Christians.' Here was an emergency altogether unprovided for by the military schools. This was a sort of resistance which no bullet could hit; a fortress perfectly bomb-proof. The commander was perplexed. If there is nobody to fight with, of course we can't fight,' said he. It is impossible to take such a town as this.' So he ordered the horses' heads to be turned about, and they carried the human animals out of the village, as guiltless as they entered, and perchance

6

somewhat wiser. This experiment on a small scale indicates how easy it would be to dispense with armies and navies, if men only had faith in the religion they profess to believe."

Even paganism has exemplified, in some degree, the beauty and power of this principle. The island of Loo-Choo in the Chinese sea, was visited in 1816 by the two war-ships which took Lord Amherst to China as ambassador from England. In order to procure supplies, and make some repairs, they anchored in a harbor of the island; and many of the natives immediately came on board, to whom the Captain, through an interpreter, stated whence the ships came, on what embassy sent, and why they had anchored there. Learning what things were wanted, they began forthwith to furnish them in great abundance, which they continued for six weeks, and then refused the slightest compensation.

Some of the crew being sick, were taken ashore to a temple as a temporary hospital, and there treated with the utmost tenderness. 'Nothing,' says Capt. Hall, 'could be more interesting than to observe the care which the natives took of our sick men. They crowded round to assist them out of the boats, carried those confined to their beds, all the way from the beach to the hospital, and gently supported those who had strength barely to walk; and when safely lodged, they were immediately supplied with eggs, milk, fowls and vegetables already cooked.

'I was absent awhile on a survey of the coast; and on my return I was glad to find the sick men much recovered, and very grateful for the kindness of the natives. The best provisions had been brought to them every day; and when disposed to take exercise, they were sure to be accompanied by some of the natives, who helped them up the steep side of the hill behind the hospital, to a grassy spot on the summit, and having lighted pipes for them, remained patiently till the invalids wished to return. Never were sailors so caressed; and it was pleasing to observe our hardy seamen so much softened, that they laid aside for the time all the habitual roughness of their manners, and without any interference of the officers, treated the natives with the greatest consideration. Indeed, from the first hour of our visit, their amiable disposition and gentle manners won the good will of all; and, by a sort of tacit, spontaneous understanding, every one of our men treated them not only with kindness, but with entire confidence. The proud, haughty feeling of national superiority, so common among British seamen, was here completely subdued by the kind and gentle manners of this pacific people. Though continually intermingled, no quarrel or complaint occurred during all our stay; but each succeeding day seemed to increase our mutual cordiality and friendship.

'We also inquired into their government; and while partaking of the general mildness, we deemed it highly efficient from the great order always maintained. The chiefs, though quite decided in giving their commands, were mild in manner and expression; and the people always obeyed them with the greatest alacrity and cheerfulness. Crimes were said to be very unfrequent; the peo

ple went entirely unarmed; and they always declared that they had no military weapons. We looked sharply for them, but could find none. Their behavior on seeing a musket fired, showed their ignorance of fire arms; and they invariably denied having any knowledge of war by experience or tradition.'

The case of William Penn, however, is perhaps the fullest and fairest illustration of pacific principles in their bearing on the intercourse of nations. His colony, though an appendage to England, was to the Indians an independent State. They knew no power above or beyond that of Penn himself; and they treated his colony as another tribe or nation. Their king had himself expressly abandoned these Quakers entirely to their own resources. "What!" said Charles II. to Penn on the eve of his departure, "venture yourself among the savages of North America! Why man, what security have you, that you will not be in their warkettle within two hours after setting your foot on their shores? 'The best security in the world,' replied the man of peace. "I doubt that, friend William; I have no idea of any security against those cannibals, but a regiment of good soldiers with their muskets and bayonets; and I tell you before hand, that, with all my good will for you and your family, to whom I am under obligations, I will not send a single soldier with you." "I want none of thy soldiers; I depend on something better." "Better! on what?" 'On the Indians themselves, on their moral sense, and the promised protection of God.'

"

Such was the reliance of Penn; and a single fact will show his mode of dealing with the Indians. Learning that there was some very choice land not included in his first purchase, he sent to inquire of the Indians if they would sell it. They replied they did not wish to part with the land where their fathers were sleeping, but to please him, they would sell him a part of it. Accordingly, they agreed, for a certain quantity of English goods, to sell as much land as one of his young men could walk round in a day; but this mode of measurement, though their own choice, did not in the end satisfy the Indians, since the young Englishman, chosen to walk off the tract, walked much faster and farther than they expected. Penn observed their dissatisfaction, and inquired the cause. "The walker cheat us."Ah! how can that be? Did you not yourselves choose to have the land measured in this way?' "Yes," said the Indians, "but white brother make too big walk." Some of Penn's commissioners, waxing warm, said the bargain was a fair one, and insisted that the Indians ought to abide by it, and, if they would not, should be compelled to do so. Compelled!' exclaimed Penn, how can you compel them without bloodshed? Don't you see this looks to murder?' Then turning with a benignant smile to the Indians, he said, 'well, brothers, if you have given us too much land for the goods first agreed on, how much more will satisfy you?' This proposal gratified them much; and they mentioned the quantity of cloth, and number of fish-hooks, with which they would be satisfied. These were cheer