Back they slunk into the Assembly House, white and trembling, and for the moment cowed.  The cart was moved on, and stopped in front of house after house where notable Quakers dwelt who were not members of the Assembly.  They were called to come to their windows and look, and were greeted with hisses and curses.

The very next day a paper, under preparation by a number of the leading citizens at the suggestion of the Governor, was presented to the Assembly under the title of a “Representation.”  It contained a stern appeal for the organization of measures of defence, and ended by the dignified and significant words: 

“You will forgive us, gentlemen, if we assume characters somewhat higher than that of humble suitors praying for the defence of our lives and properties as a matter of grace or favour on your side.  You will permit us to make a positive and immediate demand of it.”

The Quakers were frightened, incensed, and perplexed.  Their preachers went about the streets urging upon the people the doctrine of non-resistance, and picturing the horrors of warfare.  The Assembly debated and debated, but invariably came to the conclusion that they must withstand the Governor to the last upon the question of taxation.

All the city was in a tumult and ferment; but when the news came that a settlement only sixty miles away, Tulpehocken by name, had been destroyed and its inhabitants massacred, even the advocates of peace grew white with fear, and the House began to draw up a militia law—­the most futile and foolish perhaps that had ever been suggested even by lovers of peace—­in the vain hope of appeasing the people.

But the people would not be appeased by a mere mockery.  They clamoured for the raising of money for a systematic defence of their colony, and the ground was cut from beneath the feet of the Assembly by a letter received from England by the Governor—­not indeed in response to his recent urgent appeals, but still written with some knowledge of the unsettled state of the country.  In this letter the proprietaries promised a donation of five thousand pounds as a free gift for the defence of the provinces threatened in so formidable a manner, provided it was regarded as a gift and not as any part of a tax upon their estates, which were to remain free according to the old feudal tenure.

The Assembly upon hearing this could hold out no longer.  They were forced by the clamour of public opinion to strike out the debated and debatable clause from the long-contested bill, and immediately it was passed into law by the Governor.

“Ay, they have come to their senses at last—­when it is well nigh too late!” spoke John Stark, with a touch of bitterness in his tone.  “They will furnish money now; but what can be done with the winter just upon us?  For six months we must lie idle, whilst the snow and ice wrap us round.  Why was not this thing done before our settlements were destroyed, and when we could have pushed forth an army into the field to drive back the encroaching foe, so that they would never have dared to show their faces upon our border again?”