It may have been the arrival of some distressing news about this degenerate son that led to the apoplectic stroke with which Penn was seized early in the year 1712 and which in his feeble state of health was a serious matter, although he rallied for a time sufficiently to be able to occupy himself with colonial affairs. The question of slavery was much on his mind. He had become more and more convinced of its inhumanity and sinfulness and had great hopes of securing its abolition, as the untiring efforts of the German settlers had secured the passage of a law forbidding the importation of any more slaves. This first stroke, however, was soon followed by two more which left him a wreck physically and mentally. The devoted care of his wife and children helped to avert any immediate danger to his life, but the brilliant mind was hopelessly shattered. He became like a child, serene and peaceful fortunately, playing about the house or garden most of the time with his own young children and those of his son, whom with their deserted mother he had taken into his own home at Rushcombe. Occasionally there would be lucid moments when he was able to converse intelligently, and then the placid smile would vanish from his lips at the sight of his wife’s care-worn face and the realization of the burdens she had to bear not only in the management of family affairs, but also to keep up the extensive correspondence required by colonial matters. In this condition Penn lived on for five long years, sometimes able to recognize his old friends when they came to see him and even exchange a few intelligible words with them, but toward the end the power both of speech and memory failed him. On the thirtieth of May, 1718, he passed away quietly and peacefully at the age of seventy-four, after a life of ceaseless devotion to the service of God and the welfare of humanity. In a will made while still in full possession of his mental faculties, Penn left the following directions: His son William, having already squandered the money left him by his deceased mother as her family inheritance, was debarred from any share in the estate, the English property, yielding at that time an annual revenue of some fifteen hundred pounds, passing to his children instead. To each of the grandchildren, as well as his daughter Letty, he bequeathed ten thousand acres of the best land still unsold in Pennsylvania, and after disposing of enough more of this land to pay the expenses of his burial, the remainder was to be divided among his five children by his second wife, Hannah Callowhill, who was made executor with an annuity of three hundred pounds. The management of his colonial affairs he entrusted to his two friends the Earls of Oxford and Pawlett, with orders to dispose of his right of possession on the most favorable terms possible, either to the English crown or elsewhere, the proceeds to be invested for the benefit of these children.