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Penn. An honest right of fair purchase. We gave the native Indians a variety of articles which they wanted ; and they, in return, gave us lands which they did not want.' All was amicably agreed on; and not a drop of blood shed to stain our acquisition.
Cort. I am afraid there was a little fraud in the purchase. Thy followers, William Penn, are said to think that cheating, in a quiet and sober way, is no moral sin.
Penn. The righteous are always calumniated by the wicked. But it was a sight which an angel might contemplate with delight, to behold the colony which I settled ! To see us living with the Indians like innocent lambs, and taming the ferocity of their manners by the gentleness of ours! To see the whole country, which before was an uncultivated wilderness, rendered as fair and as fertile as the garden of Eden! O Fernando Cortez! Fernando Cortez! didst thou leave the great Mexican empire in that state? No, thou didst turn those delightful and populous regions into a desert, a desert flooded with blood. Dost thou not remember that most infernal scene, when the noble emperour Guatemozin was stretched out by thy soldiers upon hot burning coals, to make him discover in what part of the lake of Mexico he had thrown the royal treasures ? Are not his groans ever sounding in the ears of thy conscience ? Do they not rend thy hard heart, and strike thee with more horrour than the yells of the furies ?
Cort. Alas, I was not present when that direful act was. done! Had I been there, the inildness of my nature never would have suffered me to endure the sight. I certainly should have forbidden it.
Penn. Thou wast the captain of that band of robbers, who did this horrid deed. The advantage they had drawn from thy counsels and conduct enabled them to commit it; and thy skill saved them afterwards from the vengeance which was due to so enormous à crime.
The enraged Mexicans would have properly punished them for it, if they had not had thee for their general, thou hard-hearted, blood thirsty wretch.
Cort. The righteous I find can rail, William Penn. But how do you hope to preserve this adınirable colony you have settled? Your people, yout' tell me, live like innocent lambs.
Are there no wolves in America to devour those lambs?' Do you expect the natives will always continue in peace with your successors? Or, if they should make war, do you expect to oppose them by prayers and presents ? If this be your policy, your devoted colony will soon become an easy prey to the savages of the wilderness.
Penn. We leave that to the wise Disposer of events, who governs all nations at his will. If we conduct with strict justice towards the Indians, He will doubtless defend us against all their invasions.
Cort. Is this the wisdom of a great legislator! I have heard some of your countrymen compare you to Solon ! Did Solon, think you, give laws to a people, and leave those laws and that people to the mercy of every invader? The first business of a legislator is to provide a military strength which may defend the whole system. The world, William Penn, is a land of robbers. Any state or commonwealth erected therein must be well fenced and secured by good military institutions ; the happier it is in all other respects, the greater will be its danger, the more speedy its destruction. Your plan of government must be changed ; these Indian nations must be extirpated, or your colony will be lost.
Penn. These are suggestions of human wisdom. The doctrines I held were inspired. They came from above.
Cort. It is blasphemy to say that any folly could come from the fountain of wisdom. Whatever is inconsistent with the great laws of nature, cannot be the effect of inspiration. Sell defence is as necessary to nations as to men. And shall individuals have a right which nations have not ? True religion, William Penn, is never inconsistent with reason and the great laws of nature.
Penn. Though what thou sayest should be true, it does not come well from thy mouth. A tyrant talk of reason ! Go to the inquisition, and tell them of reason, and the great laws of nature They will broil thee, as thy soldiers broiled the unhappy Guatemozin.-Why dost thou turn pale ? Is. it the name of the inquisition, or the name of Guatemozing which troubles and affrights thee? O wretched man ! I wonder not that thou dost tremble and shake, when thou thinkest of the many murders thou hast committed, the many
thousands of those innocent Indians thou hast butchered, without an accusation of a crime ! Remember there is a day coming when thou must answer for all thy barbarities! What wouldst thou give to part with the renown of thy conquest, and to have a conscience as pure and undisturbed as mine ?
Cort. I feel the force of thy words. They pierce me like daggers. I can never, never be happy, while I retain any memory of the ills I have caused !
HEN I was a child at seven years old, says Dr. Franklin, my friends on a holy-day filled my little pockets with coppers. I went directly to a shop where they sold toys for children; and being charmed with the sound of a Whistle, which I met by the way, in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered, and gave all my money for
2. I then came home, and went whistling all over the house, much pleased with my Whistle; but disturbing all the family. My brothers, and sisters, and cousins, understanding the bargain I had made, told me, I had given four times as much for it, as it was worth.
3. This put me in mind of what good things I might have bought with the rest of the money. And they laughed at me so much for my folly, that I cried with vexation; and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the Whistle gave me pleasure.
4. This, however, was afterwards of use to me; the impression continuing on my mind, so that often when I was tempted to buy some unnecessary thing, I said to myself, Don't give too much for the Whistle. And so I saved my money
5. As I grew up and came into the world, and observed the actions of men, I thought I met with many, very many, who
gave too much for the Whistle. 6. When I saw one too ambitious of court. favours, sacrificing his time in attendance at levees, his repose, his liber.
ty, his virtue, and perhaps his friends, to attain it, I have said to myself, This man gives too much for his Whistle.
7. When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly employing himself in political bustles, neglecting his own affairs, and ruining them by that neglect, lle pays indeed, said I, too much for his Whistle.
8. If I knew a miser, who gave up every kind of comfortable living, all the pleasure of doing good to others, all the esteem of his fellow citizens, and the joys of benevolent friendship, for the sake of accumulating wealth, Poor man, said I, you do indeed pay too much for the Whistle.
9. When I meet with a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudable improvement of the inind or of his fortune, to mere corporeal sensations, and ruining his health in the pursuit; Mistaken man, say I, you are providing pain for yourself instead of pleasure; you give too much for your Whistle.
10. If I see one fond of fine clothes, fine furniture, fine houses, fine equipage, all above his fortune, for which he contracts debts, and ends his career in prison ; Alas! say I, he has paid dear, very dear, for his Whistle.
11. In short, I conceived that great part of the miseries of mankind were brought upon them by the false estimates they had made of the value of things, and by their giving to much for their Whistles.
TRUE PATRIOTISM DISPLAYED AT THE SIEGE OF
IN 1347, the city of Calais, in France, was besieged by Edward III, king of England, and for more than a year had resisted the utmost efforts of his forces to reduce it. The English made their approaches and attacks without remission, but the citizens were as obstinate in repelling them.
2. At length famine did more for Edward than arms. After the citizens had devoured the lean carcasses of their starved cattle, and domestick animals, they fed on boiled leather and vermin. In this extremity they boldly resolved to attack the enemy's camp. The battle was long and bloody,
but the citizens who survived the slaughter were obliged again to retire within their gates, their governour having been taken prisoner.
3. On the captivity of the governour,the command derolved upon Eustace de Saint Pierre, the mayor of the city, a man of humble birth, but of exalted virtue. Eustace, seeing the necessity of an immediate capitulation, now offered to deliver the city to Edward, with all the possessions and wealth of the inhabitants, provided he would spare their lives and permit them to depart free.
4. As Edward had long since expected to ascend the throne of France, he was exasperated to the last degree against the little band whose sole valour had defeated his designs. He therefore determined to take exemplary vengeance upon them, and Sir Walter Manny was sent to inform the wretched inhabitants of this final decision.
5. Consider, replied the governour, that this is not the treatment to which brave men are entitled. If any English knight had been in my situation, Edward himself would have expected the same conduct from him. But I inform you, that if we must perish, we will not perish unrevenged, for we are not yet so reduced, but we can sell our lives at a high price to the victors.
6. Manny was struck with the justness of the sentiment, and he at last prevailed upon Edward to mitigate the sentence. The best terms, however, which he would offer them were, that six of their most respectable citizens should suffer death. They were to come to his camp bringing the keys of the city in their hands, bareheaded and barefooted, with ropes about their necks. And on these conditions, he promised to spare the lives of the remainder.
7. All that remained of the unfortunate inhabitants were collected in a great square, expecting with anxious hearts the sentence of their conqueror. When Sir Walter had declared his message, consternation and dismay were impressed upon every countenance. To a long and dead silence, deep sighs and groans succeeded, when Eustace thus ad dressed the assembly.
8. My friends, we must either submit to the terms of our unfeeling conqueror, or yield up our wives and daughters, and our tender infants, to a bloudy and brutal soldiery.