Among the purchasers of the West Jersey lands were two companies, both consisting of Friends, or Quakers, one from Yorkshire, the other from London. These companies contracted and received patents for large shares. Those of the county of York were Thomas Hutchinson, of Beverly, Thomas Pearson, of Bonwicke, Joseph Helmsley, of Great Kelke, George Hutchinson, of Sheffield, and Mahlon Stacy, of Hansworth. They were all principal creditors of Edward Byllinge.

From members of the Yorkshire company are descended the New Jersey families of Clayton, Ellis, Hancock, Helmsley, Stacy, and Wetherill. They had felt the heel of the oppressor, and were ready for the establishment of a more liberal government far away from the scenes of their former lives.

Henry Armitt Brown drew the following vivid picture of the departure of the emigrants, their voyage, and their arrival at their future home: "The preparations are now made, and the time for departure is at hand. The two companies have appointed commissioners to govern them - Joseph Helmsley, Robert Stacy, William Emley, and Thomas Foulke for the Yorkshire people; Thomas Olive, Daniel Wills, John Penford, and Benjamin Scott for the London purchasers.

They have secured a stanch ship, under the command of an experienced seaman, and she is now lying ready in the Thames. With what feelings does this band of self-devoted exiles go on board! Does any one of the half-million souls of the great metropolis notice the little company of English yeomen as, laden with their scanty store of household stuff, and leading their wives and children by the hand, they shake the dust of England from their feet and clamber on deck?

Does any one foresee, as he looks with pride on the forest of masts and yard-arms that stretches from London Tower to London Bridge, that of all the ships that move to and fro beneath him or lie at anchor on the crowded Thamers but one shall be remembered? It is not that big merchantman, fast to yonder wharf, discharging the rich cargo she has just brought from the Indies; nor this gallant vessel that, as she swings with the tide, turns to him a hull scarred with many a Dutch or Spanish boradside; nor yet the stately ship that at this moment comes slowly up under full said from Gravesend.

Long after these and they that sailed them shall have been forgotten, the happy citizens of a free commonwealth in a distant land shall speak with affectionate remembrance of the good ship 'Kent' and 'Master Godfrey Marlow'.

Obscure and unnoticed, and perhaps on that account undisturbed, all are at last on board. They have taken leave of their country; it only remains to say farewell to their king. It is a pleasant day in the opening summer and London is full of gayety. The banquets at Whitehall have never been more brilliant, and the king, in spite of French victories and Popish plots and Quaker persecutions, is as gay as ever.

What care good-natured Charles, or my Lady of Cleveland, or his Lordship of Buckingham if the public mind be full of discontent, and the public coffers empty, and the prestige of England be threatened both on sea and land? The weather is fine, the French gold still holds out, and the charms of Her Grace of Portsmouth are as fresh as ever.

The bright sun and the pleasant air tempt His Majesty upon the water, and he passes the afternoon floating in his barge. The Thames is full of shipping, for at this time London has no rival in commerce but Amsterdam, and the king amuses himself watching the vessels as they come to and fro. Suddenly the barge approaches a ship evidently about to sail.

Something attracts the king and draws him near. A group of men and women are on the deck, plain in appearance, sombre in dress, quiet in demeanor. They are of the yeomand class chiefly, and the gay courtiers wonder what attracts the attention of the king. The two strangely different vessels come together, and for a moment those widely separated compaies are face to face. Charles, with that pleasant voice that could heal with a friendly phrase the wounds inflicted by a lifetime of ingratitude, inquires who they are. 'Quakers, bound to America,' is the reply.

There is a pause for an instant, and then the king, with a royal gesture, flings them his blessing, and Charles II and his Quaker subjects have parted forever... On the 6th of August(old style), 1677, there is excitement on the 'Kent.' The voyage has been fair, but eh ocean is wide and full of perils, and all are longing for the land. Suddenly a faint line appears on the horizon. Slowly it rises from the sea, until at last the straining eyes of the 'Kent's' passengers can make out land... The old ship turns to the northwest and enters the mouth of a beautiful bay.

This is the first view of the western world-the harbor of New York. The object the emigrants have in view in coming here is to wait upon Sir Edmund Andros, the Duke of York's lately appointed Governor of his territory. Accordingly the commissioners go on shore. Andros receives them coldly. They inform him of their purpose to settle on the Delaware. He feigns an ignorance of their authority. They remind him of the law, and repeat how the land in West Jersey was granted by the king to his brother, by the duke to Carteret and Berkeley, and by them to their grantors. It is of no use. 'Show me a line from the Duke himself,' says Andros. They have neglected this precaution. Upon which the Governor forbids them to proceed, and when remonstrated with touches his sword significantly.

Here is a new and unexpected trouble, and it is no comfort to learn that John Fenwick is at the moment a prisoner in New York for attempting his settlement at Salem without the duke's authority. Suddenly their perplexity is unexpectedly relieved. If they will take commissions from him, Sir Edmund will allow them to set sail, but they must promise to write to England and abide by the result. Anxious to escape from the dilemma they accept the proposal. Fenwick is released at the same time, and they set sail for the Delaware. On the 16th day of August-about the 26th, according to our style-they reach the site of New Castle, and presently-two hundred and thirty in number-land at the mouth of Racoon Creek....

The Swedes have a few houses at the landing place, and in these and in tents and caves our newcomers take temporary lodging.. Without delay the commissioners set out to examine the country and settle the terms of purchase with the Indians. Accompanied by Swedish interpreters they buy three tracts-from the Assanpink to the Rancocas, from Rancocas to Timber Creek, and from Timber Creek to Oldman's Creek.

The Yorkshire purchasers choose the former as their share; the London decide to settle at Arwaumus, near the present Gloucester; and Daniel Wills orders timber to be felled and grass to be cut in preparation for the winter. But a second thought prevails. Why should we separate? We have passed through many perils together; we are few in number; the forests are thick and full of savages; let us build a town in company. It is at once agreed upon. Where shall it be?

"It is probable that Oldman's Creek, Assanpink, Matiniconk, and Jegou's Islands were all suggested and discussed in turn. The first was too near John Fenwick's colony, the second was too far away, the third was too far from the mainland, the last was a suitable site for a town. Soon a decision in its favor was arrived at, and the emigrants embarked in small boats and began the ascent of the Delaware.

"Tinakonk, the residence of the ancient Swedish Governors; Wickakoe, a small settlement of that people close to the high bluff called 'Coaquanock', 'a splendid site for a town;' Takona, an ancient Indian town, and the mouth of the Rancocas, or 'Northampton River,' are passed in turn.

It is already late in October, and the wild landscape lies bathed in the mellow glory of the Indian summer. Beneath a sky more cloudless than English eyes have been wont to see waves the primeval forest clad in the rainbow garments of the fall. No sound breaks the stillness save the plash of the oars in the water or the whitling of the wings of the wild-fowl that rise in countless numbers from the marshes. The air is full of the perfume of grapes, that hang in clusters on the banks and climb from tree to tree, and the sturgions leap before the advancing prow. The startled deer stands motionless upon the beach; and hidden in the tangled thickets the Indian gazes in silent wonder at the pale-faced strangers that have come to take his place in the land of his faters.