He was
one of the early settlers of the Colony, and his Journal, which was
published in 1749, presents a quaint but beautiful picture of a
life of unostentatious and simple goodness. He was the master of a
merchant vessel, and, in his visits to the west Indies and Great
Britain, omitted no opportunity to labor for the highest interests
of his fellow-men. During a temporary residence in Philadelphia, in
the summer of 1838, the quiet and beautiful scenery around the
ancient village of Frankford frequently attracted me from the heat
and bustle of the city. I have referred to my youthful acquaintance
with his writings in Snow-Bound.
How bland and sweet the greeting of this breeze
To him who flies
From crowded street and red wall's weary gleam,
Till far behind him like a hideous dream
The close dark city lies
Here, while the market murmurs, while men throng
The marble floor
Of Mammon's altar, from the crush and din
Of the world's madness let me gather in
My better thoughts once more.
Oh, once again revive, while on my ear
The cry of Gain
And low hoarse hum of Traffic die away,
Ye blessed memories of my early day
Like sere grass wet with rain!
Once more let God's green earth and sunset air
Old feelings waken;
Through weary years of toil and strife and ill,
Oh, let me feel that my good angel still
Hath not his trust forsaken.
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