‘
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but of a law made by yourselves.’
The people ruled,
and, after years of strife, all went happily.
Nothing was wanting but concert with the proprietary.
Before the close of the century, William Penn was
once more within his colony.
The commonwealth, which had been as an infant, nestling under his wing, had ripened into self-reliance.
Passing over all intermediate changes, the proprietary acknowledged the present validity of the old fundamental law. ‘Let's
make a constitution,’ said a member of the council, ‘that may be firm and lasting to us and ours;’ and
Penn invited them ‘to keep what's good in the charter and frame of government, to lay aside what is burdensome, and to add what may best suit the common good.’
And the old charter was surren-
dered, with the unanimous consent of the assembly and council.
Yet the framing of a new constitution was delayed by colonial jars.
The counties of Delaware dreaded the loss of their independence by a union with the extending population of Pennsylvania.
Besides, in the lower province, the authority of William Penn rested but on sufferance; in the larger state, it was sanctioned by a royal charter; and a passionate strife
delayed the establishment of government.
Meantime, the proprietary endeavored to remove the jealousy with which his provinces were regarded in England.
The parliament ever insisted on the colonial monopoly, and the colony readily passed laws against piracy and illicit trade; but it could not assent to propitiate the English sovereigns by granting its quota for the defence of New York.
In regard to the improvement of the negroes, Penn attempted to legislate, not for the abolition of slavery,
