William Penn, born in 1644, was the only son of his parents. At so early an age as eleven, as he himself relates, he was suddenly surprised “with an inward comfort and an external glory in the belief of God, and his communion with the soul.” His attention was first turned to the Quakers by the preaching of Thomas Loe; and while at Oxford he and other students withdrew themselves from the established worship, and held their own private religious meetings. They were fined for nonconformity, but to no purpose; and finally were expelled for refusing to wear surplices, which custom was then revived in the college, as well as for disrobing others of them, as a relic of popery. His father, displeased by these religious excesses, and hoping to turn his mind from them, sent him to travel for two years on the continent, after which he studied law in Lincoln’s Inn. Thus, in early manhood perfected by travel and study, he is described as being of “engaging manners, of great natural vivacity and gay good humour, and so skilled in the use of the sword, that he could easily disarm his antagonist.” Every worldly advantage was prepared for him, through the influence of his father and the favour of his sovereign. But his mind was still deeply impressed with “a sense of the vanity of the world, and the irreligiousness of its religion.” In 1666 he went to Ireland to manage his father’s estates, where he became an openly professing Quaker. “God,” says he, “in his everlasting kindness having guided my feet, in the flower of my youth, when about two-and-twenty years of age.” Apprehended at a Quakers’ meeting held at Cork, he and others were committed to prison, he refusing to find bail for himself. Admiral Penn now summoned his son home, being greatly annoyed at this open profession of quakerism. At home, the demeanour of his son, which exhibited all the rigid peculiarities of the sect, still further displeased him. He tried every means; even blows, to obtain conformity; but in vain. As regarded “hat worship,” the admiral would have been satisfied if his son would merely have uncovered his head in presence of the king, the Duke of York and himself; but even that the young man would not concede. The scoffs, jeers and wonderment of his gay London acquaintance mattered nothing to him. He bore all meekly, steadfast to that which appeared to him the requirements of duty; and finally his father in anger turned him out of doors penniless.