CHAPTER X.

      Pennsylvania.

       Table of Contents

      William Penn—Independence Hall—British troops—Heroism of women—Lydia Darrah—Who designed the Flag—Anti-slavery movements in Philadelphia—Pennsylvania Hall destroyed by a mob—David Paul Brown—Fugitives—Millard Fillmore—John Brown—Angelina Grimké—Abby Kelly—Mary Grew—Temperance in 1848—Hannah Darlington and Ann Preston before the Legislature—Medical College for Women in 1850—Westchester Woman Rights Convention, 1852—Philadelphia Convention, 1854—Lucretia Mott answers Richard H. Dana—Jane Grey Swisshelm—Sarah Josepha Hale—Anna McDowell—Rachel Foster searching the records.

      In 1680, Charles II., King of England, granted to William Penn a tract of land in consideration of the claims of his father, Admiral Penn, which he named Pennsylvania. The charter for this land is still in existence at Harrisburg, among the archives of the State. The principal condition of the bargain with the Indians was the payment of two beaver skins annually. This was the purchase money for the great State of Pennsylvania.

      Penn landed at New Castle October 27, 1682, and in November visited the infant city of Philadelphia, where so many of the eventful scenes of the Revolution transpired. Penn had been already imprisoned in England several times for his Quaker principles, which had so beneficent an influence in his dealings with the Indians, and on the moral character of the religious sect he founded in the colonies.

      While yet a student he was expelled from Christ Church, Oxford, because he was converted to Quakerism under the preaching of Thomas Loe. He was imprisoned in Cork for attending a Quaker meeting, and in the Tower of London in 1668 for writing "The Sandy Foundation Shaken," and while there he wrote his great work, "No Cross, No Crown." In 1671, he was again imprisoned for preaching Quakerism, and as he would take no oath on his trial, he was thrown into Newgate, and while there he wrote his other great work on "Toleration."

      In 1729 the foundations of Independence Hall, the old State House, were laid, and the building was completed in 1734. Here the first Continental Congress was held in September, 1774; a Provincial Convention in January, 1775; the Declaration of Independence proclaimed July 4, 1776, and on the 8th, read to thousands assembled in front of the building. These great events have made Philadelphia the birthplace of freedom, the Mecca of this western world, where the lovers of liberty go up to worship; and made the Keystone State so rich in memories, the brightest star in the republican constellation, where in 1776 freedom was proclaimed, and in 1780 slavery was abolished.

Philadelphia remained the seat of Government until 1800. The British troops occupied the city from September 26, 1777, to June 18, 1778. During this period we find many interesting incidents in regard to the heroism of women. In every way they aided the struggling army, not only in providing food and clothes, ministering to the sick in camp and hospitals, but on active duty as messengers and spies under most difficult and dangerous circumstances. The brave deeds and severe privations the women of this nation endured with cheerfulness would fill volumes, yet no monuments are built to their memory, and only by the right of petition have they as yet the slightest recognition in the Government. A few instances that occurred at Philadelphia will illustrate the patriotism of American women.59

      While the American army remained encamped at White Marsh, the British being in possession of Philadelphia, Gen. Howe made some vain attempts to draw Washington into an engagement. The house opposite the headquarters of Gen. Howe, tenanted by William and Lydia Darrah, members of the Society of Friends, was the place selected by the superior officers of the army for private conference, whenever it was necessary to hold consultations.

      On the afternoon of the 2d of December, the British Adjutant-General called and informed the mistress that he and some friends were to meet there that evening, and desired that the back room up-stairs might be prepared for their reception. "And be sure, Lydia," he concluded, "that your family are all in bed at an early hour. When our guests are ready to leave the house, I will myself give you notice, that you may let us out and extinguish the candles."

      Having delivered this order, the Adjutant-General departed. Lydia betook herself to getting all things in readiness. But she felt curious to know what the business could be that required such secrecy, and resolved on further investigation. Accordingly, in the midst of their conference that night, she quietly approached the door, and listening, heard a plan for the surprise of Washington's forces arranged for the next night. She retreated softly to her room and laid down; soon there was a knocking at her door. She knew well what the signal meant, but took no heed until it was repeated again and again, and then she arose quickly and opened the door. It was the Adjutant-General who came to inform her they were ready to depart. Lydia let them out, fastened the door, extinguished the fire and lights, and returned to her chamber, but she was uneasy, thinking of the threatened danger.

      At the dawn of day she arose, telling her family that she must go to Frankfort to procure some flour. She mounted her horse, and taking the bag, started. The snow was deep and the cold intense, but Lydia's heart did not falter. Leaving the grist at the mill, she started on foot for the camp, determined to apprise Gen. Washington of his danger. On the way she met one of his officers, who exclaimed in astonishment at seeing her, but making her errand known, she hastened home.

      Preparations were immediately made to give the enemy a fitting reception. None suspected the grave, demure Quakeress of having snatched from the English their anticipated victory; but after the return of the British troops Gen. Howe summoned Lydia to his apartment, locked the door with an air of mystery, and motioned her to a seat. After a moment of silence, he said: "Were any of your family up, Lydia, on the night when I received my company here?" "No," she replied, "they all retired at eight o'clock." "It is very strange," said the officer, and mused a few minutes. "I know you were asleep, for I knocked at your door three times before you heard me; yet it is certain that we were betrayed."

      Afterward some one asked Lydia how she could say her family were all in bed while she herself was up; she replied, "Husband and wife are one, and that one is the husband, and my husband