among the founders of
commonwealths. He was at once a philosopher and a statesman; he was
interested alike in religion and in politics. There have been many
politicians to whom religion has been of no concern. There have been
many religious persons in high positions who have been so shut in by
church walls that they have been incapable of a wider outlook; they have
accordingly been narrow, prejudiced, and often unpractical people; they
have been blind to the elemental social fact of difference; they have
hated the thought of toleration. Penn was almost alone among the good
men of our era of colonization in being at the same time a man of the
world and a man of the other world.

Penn came out of his exile in 1693 burdened with misfortune. He had been
deprived of his government; he was sadly in debt; he had lost many of
his friends. His colonists in Pennsylvania declined to lend him money.
His brethren in England drew up a confession of wrong-doing for him to
sign: "If in any things during those late revolutions I have concerned
myself either by words or writings, in love, pity or good will to any in
distress [meaning the king] further than consisted with Truth's honor or
the Church's peace, I am sorry for it." But he would not sign. To these
troubles was added a greater grief in the death of his wife. "An
excellent wife and mother," he said of her, "an entire and constant
friend, of a more than common capacity, and greater modesty and
humility; yet most equal and undaunted in danger." A brave soul, no
doubt, as befitted her parentage, and of a devout and consecrated
spirit.

But William was ever of a serene and cheerful disposition. Neither loss,
nor disappointment, nor bereavement could shut out the sun. His
religious faith strengthened him. "We must needs disorder ourselves," he
had written in his "Fruits of Solitude," "if we only look at our losses.
But if we consider how little we deserve what is left, our passions will
cool, and our murmurs will turn into thankfulness." "Though our
Saviour's passion is over, his compassion is not. That never fails his
humble, sincere disciples; in him they find more than all that they lose
in the world."

During the six years which followed, this strong confidence was
justified. He regained his government and his good name. He also married
a second wife, Hannah Callowhill, a strong, sensible, and estimable
Quaker lady of some means, living in Bristol.

The only satisfactory inf