character of the peasant's clock in its physiognomy, and was called Jockum.
The church, a handsome and substantial, though small building of brick, was ancient only in its exterior. The interior was new, and very much ornamented. A large book was placed upon a sort of tall stand in the middle of the church, and upon its page might be read in large letters, which however had been somewhat altered by restoration, “The people who dwelt in darkness have seen a great light.” And this inscription, together with the old church at Wilmington, in Delaware, and a few family names, are all that remain of the colony of New Sweden on the eastern shores of the new world. Yet no! not all. A peaceful, noble memory of its life continues to exist on the page of history, like a lovely episode of idyllian purity and freshness. The pilgrims of New England stained its soil with blood, by their injustice and cruelty to the Indians. The Swedish pilgrims, in their treatment of the natives, were so just and wise, that during the whole time when this coast was under the Swedish dominion, not one drop of Indian blood was shed by them, and the Indians loved them, and called them “our own people.” “The Swedes are a God-fearing people,” say the old chronicles of those times. “They are industrious and contented, and much attached to the customs and manners of the mother-country. They live by agriculture and the breeding of cattle; the women are good housewives, spin and weave, take care of their families, and bring up their children well.”
William Penn in his letter to the tradesmen of London, August 6, 1633, wrote thus of them—
“The Swedes and the Finns inhabit the tracts by the river Delaware, where the water rises high. They are a simple, strong, and industrious people, but do not appear to make much progress in agriculture and planting. They seem rather to desire to have enough than to have
