continued profoundly hid in the bosom of his friend, The last was
nothing more than pride. To the descend ant of a line of soldiers,
commerce, even in that indirect manner, seemed a degrading pursuit;
but an insuperable obstacle to the disclosure existed in the
prejudices of his father

We have already said that Major Effingham had served as a soldier with
reputation. On one occasion, while in command on the western frontier
of Pennsylvania against a league of the French and Indians, not only
his glory, but the safety of himself and his troops were jeoparded by
the peaceful policy of that colony. To the soldier, this was an
unpardonable offence. He was fighting in their defense—he knew that
the mild principles of this little nation of practical Christians
would be disregarded by their subtle and malignant enemies; and he
felt the in jury the more deeply because he saw that the avowed object
of the colonists, in withholding their succors, would only have a
tendency to expose his command, without preserving the peace. The
soldier succeeded, after a desperate conflict, in extricating himself,
with a handful of his men, from their murderous enemy; but he never
for gave the people who had exposed him to a danger which they left
him to combat alone. It was in vain to tell him that they had no
agency in his being placed on their frontier at all; it was evidently
for their benefit that he had been so placed, and it was their
“religious duty,” so the Major always expressed it, “it was their
religions duty to have supported him.”

At no time was the old soldier an admirer of the peaceful disciples of
Fox. Their disciplined habits, both of mind and body, had endowed
them with great physical perfection; and the eye of the veteran was
apt to scan the fair proportions and athletic frames of the colonists