Frank. However agreeable their opinions, on this point, may be to the doctrines of primitive christianity, they will not suit the present situation of the world. Could our harmless sheep graze in safety surrounded by tigers and wolves? Could the little flock rise up and lie down in peace, while the bloodhound's of war are ranging the fields of creation? There never was,nor never will be, a nation of quakers: they owe their very existence to the protection of government. They will not fight themselves; but they have no objection that the arm of flesh should be raised in their de fence. Yet there is no doubt they are aware of their own inconsistency in this particular; as no people are more ready to resent personal insults, or to defend their possessions from aggressions of injustice or their houses from the intrusion of robbers. If it be right to repel a personal or family injury, it may certainly be proved, by a parity of reasoning, that it is equally right to oppose those injuries which are offered to the community in general, and to defend the great national family from insult and oppression. If we be justifiable in bolting our doors to prevent the intrusion of thieves, we are likewise justifiable in erecting forts for the protection of our harbors. If we be justifiable in throwing a robber headlong from a window, who would rob our house and murder our family, we are equally justifiable in as. sisting to repel an invasion of our country. Piomingo. The Friends would probably say, that we may resist if we do not endanger the lives of our opponents. 1 Frank. Is not the life of the robber endangered, who is thrown from the window? may not his skull be fractured by the fall? No such line of distinction can be drawn. We are not accountable for the consequences of a justifiable resistance: that lies at the door of the aggressor. The thing is too plain for argument. Nature has implanted in man a principle of resentment, which directs him to oppose force to force, and retort the injuries that may be inflicted upon him: and this principle is necessary for self-preservation. If it be morally right to lift my hand and brush away a fly that has settled on my nose, it is morally right to defend myself, my friend, and my country. Piomingo. I have understood that they are not disposed to contribute any thing towards the support of an army. Frank. They pretend to say that it would be equally as criminal to enable others to fight as to fight themselves; therefore many of them will rather allow their property to be seized and sold for half its value than pay those taxes which are laid for the support of military ar. rangements. But it is not to be supposed that these evils, incurred through their own obstinacy, are immediately forgotten. Behold, are they not written in the book of the chronicles of the people called quakers, exhibited at their yearly meetings, and preserved from genera tion to generation as a memorial of the sufferings of friends! I must not, however, forget to mention that many of the more intelligent quakers have recourse to certain ingenious subterfuges to prevent any losses of magnitude on such occasions. Piomingo. Their language is not a little curious: I have never been able to account for the origin of so singular a dialect. Frank. I believe I can give you the true cause of its origin and progress: The early quakers, and other puritans, affected to be conseientiously scrupulous of addressing a single person with the pronoun plural "you:" It was a species of lie which they could not reconcile to their conscience! They were determined to use, even in the common occur. rences of life, that solemn mode of expression which had been adopted in addresses, to the deity and in the translation of the bible; but, alas! although they were favored with the illuminations of the Spirit, they were too ignorant to distinguish the nominative, from the oblique, case of the pronoun: "thou" and "thee" were therefore used indiscriminately. But it came to pass in process of time, that this daring intriguing insinuating "thee" not only maintained his legitimate rights, but ambitiously usurped the dominions of his brother. "Thou" is totally discarded: and a man would be accused of affectation and pedantry, even among quakers, who would attempt to restore the disgraced nominative to its station in the language. Almighty custom has sanctioned the production of ignorance; and this unparalleled corruption has become the language of friends. "How does thee do? If thee's cold, thee'd better sit down and warm thee-self;" which is just as absurd as to say "Me's well, me's cold, and me 'll sit down and warm meself." Piomingo. If language serve to convey our ideas, it answers the purpose for which it was designed. Frank. Yes: but you must acknowledge, Piomingo, that language has been thought of sufficient importance to engage the attention of the wisest philosophers; and since that is the case, certainly the language, spoken by a large and very respectable society, merits a transient consideration. Piomingo. We will however dismiss that subject for the present. Who is that little man whose attention is distracted between smoking and talking? He certainly never has heard of the philosopher who did but one thing at a time. Frank. That is a revolutionary character. Piomingo. Be more explicit Frank, and inform me what is the signification of this revolutionary character. Frank. Why sir, the gentleman is forty or fifty years old; and consequently must have been alive somewhere during our revolutionary contest. He has been, he informs us, in every important engagement; and, if we credit his assertions, we must admit that the successful issue of the war was principally owing to his personal exertions. Piomingo. Can we believe him? Frank. There is indigenous genius enough, if it met with sufficient encouragement; but as long as European impudence bears every thing before it, American genius must lie in the shade. Is it not preposterous that a man just broke loose from the land of slaves should presume to regulate the affairs of a people who are said to be free! Piomingo. Should they not enjoy the pri viliges of citizenship? Frank. That depends on the measure of your faith. Many years have passed away since the close of the war. Time has involved the events of those days in obscurity: and a man may boast, without danger of detection, of exploits which were never performed. Thousands who fought and bled in the war Frank. I think not. Their children might for independence are long since numbered with become citizens; but why should men born the dead; yet never were revolutionary char- and educated in foreign countries, influenced acters, as they are called, more numerous than by extraneous prejudices, and feeling an inat the present moment. The most of those vincible attachment to the place of their birth, who suffered the hardships of war and fought be admitted to rank with native citizens who the battles of their country have lived in penury love their country "they know not why and and distress, and died neglected and unknown; care not wherefore?" Love of country is a who then are these, who extol their personal prejudice: knowledge may destroy but cannot prowess over a bowl, and exhibit their revolntionary scars in the taverns of Philadelphia? The heroes of independence resemble the heads of the serpent of Lerna; when death cuts off one, a hundred spring up in his place. Observe that smiling red-faced self-conceited ani. mal who walks across the floor with an air so important and imposing: that is an Irishman; and an ignorant Irishman. He has no knowledge of history; he is totally unacquainted with the affairs of his own country; and yet, although he has not been six months on this side of the Atlantic, he conceives himself fully able to discuss our politieal concerns and settle the affairs of the nation. There is no office in the United States but he has the impudence to demand; and his demand, when he thinks proper to make it, will be probably successful. He will grow rich and powerful, and fatten on the gifts of the nation, while the children of revolutionary heroes pine in obscurity and want. It was to provide a country for such fellows as this, that my father shed his blood in the service of the public, and reduced him. self and his family to poverty. Where is he now ? Cold is the sod that covers his head; And sound is the sleep of his tomb! his name is forgotten; his children are unknown; and here comes an ignorant coxcomb to gather the fruit of his labor. Piomingo. Would you prohibit the ingress of foreigners? Frank. No: but I should like a little mod. esty in foreigners. They might live in peace and enjoy the products of their industry; but I see no necessity for their becoming legislators, or enjoying the emoluments of office, while there are thousands of natives fully as capable, and certainly as patriotic, as any insolent foreigner whatever. Piomingo. But if a man of genius fix his residence among you, why should his adopted country be deprived of the advantages that may be derived from the exercise of his talents in public affairs? produce it. And as foreigners never can feel the operation of this prejudice in favor of the adopted country, they cannot be heartily and wholly attached to its interests. The fact is, they never become more than half citizens. After they have been here thirty or forty years, you may hear them express their regard for their dear native land, and call it, with affec. tionate tenderness,-HOME. I blame not this amiable partiality. I should dislike the man who felt it not; but I contend that no one can become wholly attached to any other country but that which gave him birth. Piomingo! can you describe the place of your nativity? Piomingo. On a gentle eminence, near a rapid stream, stood a wattled hut, overshadowed by the branches of a venerable oak. On the right was the distant prospect of an Indian village; on the left, a narrow path winding down the hill to the banks of the river. Majestic mountains appeared at a distance. Frank. Piomingo! do you never repeat, with melancholy pleasure, Pauperis et tuguri congestum cespite culmen, Promingo. May not a man have reason to hate his people and the land of his fathers? Frank. A man cannot hate his people and the land of his fathers: it is impossible. If he can, he is utterly incapable of loving any other, Piomingo. This civilized uproar fatigues tion? Shall the many-headed monster be me. I must be going. Frank. Stay a moment, till I show you another foreigner. We have them of all descriptions. That inanimate being who sits by himself viewing every thing round him with sullen contempt is an Englishman. He has been among us these twenty years, but in all that time has found nothing on which he could bestow the slightest commendation. There are but four things that fall within the range of his abilities: he can eat, drink, love old England, and hate every other thing in exis tence. He never can be induced to taste any species of food which is unknown in England: and of those kinds which are common to both countries, that which is produced here is, he asserts, infinitely inferior in quality. If you show him the choicest productions of the soil, he will sometimes reluctantly admit they may do, taking care at the same time to add, they are much better in England. He never has been so fortunate, since he crossed the Atlantic, as to meet with a dinner properly prepared: and when he returns to the land of shopkeepers, should he ever return, he will inform his coun trymen that the people of Pennsylvania are anthropophagi and blacks. Although he carries the marks of stupid vulgarity in his countenance, he affects to despise the Americans as a nation of rebels, convicts and savages. Promingo. Will he argue on political sub. jects? Frank. Argue! he argues as a dog would argue: he snarls at every thing round him. He abuses our legislative assemblies and curses publicly the officers of government. Piomingo. It is magnanimous to overlook these things. Frank. I have no opinion of such magna nimity. Suppose I should go to England and call the virtuous members of parliament robbers and villains, and the sapient monarch a fool; what would be the consequence? Why should strangers be allowed greater privileges among us, than the citizens of the United States would be allowed in foreign countries? Piomingo. This is a free country. Frank. A free country! words without meaning! And because it is a free country, must we allow ourselves to be abused and insulted by every insolent foreigner who lands on our shores? Suppose you had a family, Piomingo, and I, when admitted as a visiter, should in. sult your wife, and curse yourself, the lord and master of the little monarchy; suppose I should ridicule your private arrangements, and laugh at your domestic establishment; or suppose, I should finally presume to take in my own hands the regulation of your affairs; would not my conduct be resented? Piomingo. The lawyers tell us, you know, that a man's house is his castle: I should certainly eject you from my citadel. Frank. And may not our territories be accounted the great domicil or castle of the na bearded in his den? Shall one set of foreigners ridicule our laws and regulations, and curse with impunity "the ruler of the people;" while another, out of pity to our ignorance, would push us from our seats and take upon themselves the management of our affairs? Upon my veracity, I know not which most to admire the Irishman's intrusive impudence, the Englishman's haughty stupidity, or the weakness and servility of the American. Piomingo. Have you done? Frank. No: there is another foreigner present, to whom I wish to call your attention. Piomingo. What is he? a Frenchman ? Frank. No, not a Frenchman. What made you put the French in my head? What could I say of a people that stormed and blustered about liberty and equality till they set the world in an uproar, and then fell prostrate at the feet of a daring usurper? I have no patience with the French. They excited our hopes, and plunged us in despair. They have disappointed the philanthropist, brought disgrace on the cause of humanity, and established for ages the government of kings. Piomingo. How old are you, Frank? Frank. Why do you ask that question, Piomingo ? Piomiogo. Because you appear to me to be carried away by a frantic enthusiasm, which I should not expect to find in a man who had arrived at years of maturity: at least, in a man who had made human nature his study, and observed the passions and motives which govern the actions of men. Frank. O, I have gotten out of my swad. dling-clothes: but I must acknowledge that in the early period of the French revolution, I felt my full share of the general enthusiasm,which pervaded the world, and seemed for a season to elevate human nature above every mercenary consideration. Piomingo. Did you expect a political millennium? Frank. The truth is, I not only expected a political, but a religious, millennium. I thought I saw in passing events the accomplishment of prophecies. I expected political and spiritual regeneration to go hand in hand until all men should become brothers, and justice and peace be established forever. I was ready to exclaim with Virgil. Ultima Cumæi venit jam carminis ætas: Magnus ab integro seclorum nascitur ordo: Jam redit et virgo, redeunt Saturnia regna: Jam nova progenies cœlo demittitur alte. I expected the sun of righteousness' to rise upon the earth; and the clouds of darkness superstition and prejudice to be scattered by "the brightness of his coming." I expected that through the blessings of freedom and the outpouring of the Spirit," "the wilderness. would be like Eden, and the desert like the garden of the Lord I prayed without ceasing for the downfall of pagan idolatry, popish superstition, and Jewish infidelity. I read got rid of these troublesome speculations, Newton, on the prophecies, studied the weeks which, if indulged, would unfit a man for the and times of Daniel; and meditated profoundly great and important concerns of this momenon the heads, horns, trumpets, and vials of the tary life. I endeavor to suit myself to the Revelation. I expected every moment to see station in which nature has placed me, and to the heavens opened, and the New Jerusalem teach my mind to be satisfied with things which descending on the earth!-But the progress of are attainable. the French revolution destroyed these gay illu sions. These enchanting hopes have "passed away as a vision of the night;" and the blackness of darkness has succeeded. Instead of a new heaven and a new earth, I have nothing to amuse me but this same old dull wicked world. Piomingo. I was going to point out the impossibility of this great change taking place in consequence of the French revolution, and to demonstrate the folly of your expectations; but as I find that you supposed these wonders would be effected by supernatural means, my reasoning would not be so applicable to the case as I imagined. You were certainly right in calling in a heavenly personage to act a part in your great and magnificent drama: nor can the severest critic accuse you of transgressing the maxim of Horace : Nec Deus intersit, nisi dignus vindice nodus. : Frank. However lightly you may treat this subject, Piomingo, to me it has been a most serious affair. Nothing agitates the passions of men with so much violence as religion and politics and when these two, at the same time, exert their influence upon a young ingenuous and enthusiastic mind, the conse. quences are marvellous. And when the mind, after having been agitated and sublimated by wild undefinable emotions, finds itself among the mire and filth of this sublunary worldhow vapid and tasteless is existence-But here we are since nature has made us but men,why should we proudly and arrogantly aspire to be gods? Why should we, who grovel upon the earth, raise our daring thonghts to heaven and soar beyond the bounds of creation? Is it not strange that such worms, as we, should be actuated by passions so strong, ambition so bold, and desires so unbounded? Cœlum ipsum petimus stultitia! Piomingo. Man is a reptile indeed, and may truly say, with one of your sacred writers, "to corruption, thou art my father; and to the worm, thou art my mother and my sister:" but that daring ambition, those ardent passions, boundless desires, and aspiring hopes, which excite your admiration, may lead us to look for another scene of existence, when man shall find objects sufficiently noble to exercise the powers of his soul, and satisfy his sublimest aspirations. Frank. Such reflections may calm your philosophic mind, Piomingo; but one who has been taught to expect certainty in these things views your probabilities with impatience. HowI must inform you that I have nearly ever, Piomingo. You endeavor? Frank. I must acknowledge it is only an endeavor; for I continually experience vexations in business, troubles with my nearest connections, disappointments in friendship; and become more and more convinced of the unsatisfactory nature of every enjoyment. O, for that apathy of soul, that sweet ataraxia, of which I have heard, which forbids alike the approaches of pleasure and pain, hope and despair! Piomingo. That ataraxia is only to be gained Frank. In the grave: "where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest. Piomingo. So I find you are something of a sceptic: why did you not propose your doubts, in the beginning, to some of your teachers, in order that they might be removed? Frank. So I did: I went to our ghostly steward, who furnished us on Sundays with our weekly allowance of spiritual food, and modestly propounded certain queries. He was astonished beyond measure that such a one as I should presume to doubt of any of those things which he himself believed. He dilated on the heinous nature of the sin of unbelief, and exhorted me to beware of the temptations of Satan. I told him that I was sincerely desirous of believing; but that my mind was perplexed with doubts, which I was in hopes his superior knowledge would be able to dissipate. I protested that I was devotedly attached to the christian religion; that I would not for ten thousand worlds believe it to be a fiction; and that I came with genuine humility, and in the simplicity of my heart, to ask information from my spiritual instructor. I entreated that he would favor me with half an hour's conversation; that he would give me reasons on which to ground my belief; that he would hear my objections patiently; in fine, that he would engage in a friendly and familiar discussion of those important points which I had mentioned. Piomingo. Well: what reply did he make to this humble solicitation? Frank. He began a long and violent decla. mation, something in the manner of a sermon ; he quoted innumerable texts of scripture, taking for granted, all along, the very points I wished to have proved; he poured forth the terrors of the law like a torrent; and concluded with an animated prayer for a hardened and unbelieving sinner. Now this might be preaching; but reason. ing it could not be termed,with any propriety: and, as it was not exactly preaching which I was desirous of hearing, I ventured to suggest that I had often heard these things from the pulpit; and as they had failed to produce conviction in my mind on those occasions, it was not to be expected that they would have a more decisive effect at present. 66 Do, my dear sir," said I, "consider me, for the present, as a Chinese or Hindoo. What arguments would you use to convince such a one of the truth of the doctrines you teach?" "It is the hardness and wickedness of your abominable heart," cried he, "that occasions your unbelief: I see you are lost." 'My heart," said I, innocently, "is not wicked." "You lie!" said he in a fury, " you lie, you reprobate! your heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked. 66 I was a little abashed, as you may well suppose, with this last argument; however, after some time, when I saw he began to grow cool, I ventured to rejoin, "If I know any thing of my own heart"-"You know nothing of your own heart, poor fool!" said he, "you are in the gall of bitterness and bond of iniquity." As I found that no good would spring from this conference, I began to think of taking my leave; but, being desirous to know of what nature his next argument would be, I added, "When we wish to establish any doctrine""Let me have none of your philosophy and vain deceit," said he, "I'll hear none of it. I deliver you over to Satan to buffet you. Your blood be on your own head: I have done my duty. You will soon believe and tremble like your father the devil. I shake off the dust of my feet as a testimony against you. I tell you again and again, that it is the wicked malignity and enmity of your heart, against God and every thing that is good, which occasions your unbelief; you will not believe." "If a man be not able," said 1, "to see the truth of a proposition, he cannot believe." Enraged beyond measure at my pertinacity, he sprang from his chair,and, seizing a flaming brand from the fire, he shook it in my face exclaiming, "Believe or you'll be damned, you villain! believe or you'll be damned!” Piomingo. That was cogent reasoning, Frank: did you reply? Frank. No, indeed: I scampered off as fast as my feet could carry me. I was then about seventeen years of age: if any one were to reason with me in that manner at present, I should certainly make use of a species of argument that would not be easily answered. Piomingo. Had you ever any further conversation with this pattern of meekness and humility? : Frank. No. I frequently went afterwards to hear him preach and whenever he saw me enter the church, he took occasion to denounce the judgments of the law upon a presumptuous unbeliever. I do candidly believe he was angry with the Lord for permitting me to live upon the earth: for I have seen him turn up his eyes, with an air of angry expostulation, and say "Why sleeps thy thunder ?" He would frequently question his Maker concerning the propriety of showing so much lenity and indulgence to the dissolute and profane.-You smile, Piomingo-May this moment be my last, if he would not address the creator of the world with as much ease and confidence as I do my barber or shoemaker: and this sanctified impertinence or blasphemous impudence he dignified with the appellation of holy boldness. He would threaten the Lord-Why do you stare, Piomingo ?-absolutely threaten him, and tell him, in a tone of defiance, that he (the preacher) would take the kingdom of heaven by storm. Nay, he would command the deity-I speak truth, Piomingo-as I command my servant; for which he said he had scripture-" Command ye me." Piomingo. This was a true member of the church militant. Such clergymen, I hope, are rarely to be found. Frank. There are many such, among the calvinistic societies. He was a celebrated preacher, remarkably orthodox and sound in fundamentals. Piomingo. But how did it happen that you connected religion and politics in the manner you have mentioned? Frank. Why, it has long been a prevailing opinion, among various religious denominations, that those happy times, which are promised by the prophets, would commence about the beginning of the nineteenth century: and we, who found ourselves within a few years of that important period, confidently expected to see at least the morning of that day when holiness to the Lord should be written on the bells of the horses. Whenever, by pouring out the curses of the law mixed with a due proportion of the soothing promises of the gospel, any sacred orator was able to excite a little sobbing and whining and blubbering among his auditors, which was termed "a shaking among the dry bones," he would immediately declare that the night wae past, and that he saw the appearance of day.While we all stood on tiptoe in order to perceive the first streaks of the dawn, behold! we discerned the coruscations of the French revolution!-A shout of joy and exultation was raised by the multitude, So wild, so loud, so clear, E'en listening angels stooped from heaven to hear! The wondering mountains, hills, and rocks returned the sound; the beasts of the field forgot to browse, and gazed with astonishment at the madness of the people; the dogs, in every direction, lifted up their voices and joined in the melodious howl of their masters! One company would sing, "The day breaks, and the shadows flee away." A second would answer, "Lo! the winter is past; the rain is over and gone." A third: "The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of |