In any discussion of the Quaker pattern of living, one may assume that the Friends in'Ohio generally and Mount Pleasant in particular lived in the manner of most Quakers of the period. For after the arrival of Friends in America, there developed a broad uniformity of life-style which persisted for at least two centuries. When it came to transacting business or responding to political issues, they did so in much the same peculiar manner from Maine to the Carolinas and westward to the Pacific Ocean. Friends married Friends, for to do otherwise could result in disownment. Friends spoke and dressed alike. Henry Thoreau, attending a meeting in 1843, observed that the women looked "all like sisters or so many chickadees."

In America this uniformity of the Quakers became especially pronounced after the War of Independence. Largely because of their experience during that war they drew apart from society in order to maintain themselves and their children as "a peculiar people." They wore the distinctive plain dress which has traditionally been thought of as "Quaker." The men were attired in black, broad-brimmed, and undented beaver hats and collarless coats; the women dressed in long full skirts, shawls, often of -Quaker gray, and bonnets which framed their faces; children
looked like miniature adults.

Their plain speech was particularly distinguished by the use of "thou" and "thee." Simplicity marked the style of their living, from home to meeting house. Quaker meeting houses were unadorned and the worship was uniform in its dependence on silence. Many Friends were actually hostile to art, music, fiction, and drama. They did not observe the festival of Christmas, believing that every day of the year should be the same to Christians. They attended meetings twice a week-on First-Day and again on Fifth-Day. The leisure which they had from shop or farm was generally devoted to the affairs of the meeting. Frequently to the outside world they appeared pious, stiff, and set apart.

While it is probably true that to the outside world Quaker society seemed rather drab and glum, there were both outsiders and insiders who noted the presence of warmth and gaiety. One such observer was the famous eighteenth-century writer, Hector St. John de Crevecoeur, who, in his Letters from an American Farmer, told of his experience in a Quaker community on Nantucket Island. He noted the simple pleasures of walking and conversing with each other, of physical exercises (such as throwing the bar, heaving stones, and "an exhilarating bowl"), and other "rural amusements." As a consequence, "they all appeared gay without levity. I had never before in my life seen so much unaffected mirth, mixed with so much modesty. The pleasures of the day were enjoyed with the greatest liveliness and the most innocent freedom".

Logan Pearsall Smith (1865-1946) in reminiscing about his boyhood days in Philadelphia remembered spending his youth among the plainness and simple ways of the stricter Friends but he also remarked on the richly carved and upholstered furniture in his grandfather's home and on the excitement of attending a circus. The latter event was expected to help Quaker children better understand the wonders of creation by viewing the exotic animals. However, they were required to cover their eyes during tightrope acts so that the sight of female acrobats in scanty costume did not blemish their innocent minds.

At a time when it was generally felt that women were to be in the home, seen but not heard, a unique characteristic of the Friends was the prominent place given to women in the early Quaker organization. Quakers, with their belief in the "Inner Light," saw that women as well as men could be moved by the Spirit and thus they recognized women as being equal with men. Consequently, in each decade there were outstanding Quaker women who, on occasion, "suffered with equal bravery" as the men. In 1656 when Ann Austin, Mary Fisher, and Mary Dyer attempted to take the Quaker message to Boston and the Massachusetts Bay Colony, all three were jailed. Mary Dyer was one of the four Friends hanged on Boston Common between 1659 and 1661.

Sarah Harrison, a traveling Quaker minister from Pennsylvania, was effective in persuading Quaker slaveholders to free their slaves. Lucretia Mott was active in the abolition movement and as organizer of the Philadelphia Female Anti-Slavery Society. She, together with Elizabeth Cady Stanton, conceived the idea of holding a woman's rights convention, which met in Seneca Falls, New York, in 1848. Abigail Flanner, a teacher in the Friends Boarding School at Mount Pleasant, earned a moment of notoriety because of her memorable letter friendship with a famous New York poet, Fitz-Greene Halleck. in the late 1830's.

Typical of the Quakers was their technique of decision-making, the "method of consensus." No majority view on an issue dominated; no minority view was overridden. The final decision was expected to be the result of truth as found by the group. In the meeting, a recording clerk listened and noted any unifying thread which might emerge from the comments offered. This was the process of searching for the "sense of the meeting." A vote or a veto was never involved. Eventually the clerk read out a "minute"-the degree of unity which he had sensed-which could undergo further modification before being accepted. As John Sykes points out: "It may not finally go as far as some present may have wished, but it involves no illusionary sense of progress; all will act on it this far, and orderly growth from here is possible.... The appeal is not ' just to reason, o r to the set authority of leaders, but to the quest for right feeling among a group of equals." It may be that this technique for'decision-making was an important factor in the dynamism of this group of people, for when they believed in what they were doing they could become master salesmen, to whom the world was often peculiarly susceptible.

From the very outset Quakers have been uniformly concerned about truth and honesty. This concern led them to see oath-taking first as futile-for no oath could turn a liar into a man of truth-and later they viewed it as actually vicious, for swearing implied that the man was a liar when not under oath. So in 1682 by the "Great Law" the Friends in Pennsylvania provided that men should give testimony by "solemnly promising to speak the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth." Also, out of this concern for truth and honesty came the Quaker policy of adopting a set price for merchandise. They rejected the usual practice of bargaining over the price of goods on the ground that one should say at the beginning what the item was honestly worth. To them, this approach was a matter of telling the truth; bargaining caught one up in a lie.

Another feature of their pattern of living is that Quakers have during their history been "concerned" about many matters. For them to have a "concern" has always meant doing something about it---that is, "concern" goes hand in hand with action. Their "concerns" have been for such matters as abolition of slavery, peace, just treatment for the Indians, and help to the destitute, ill, imprisoned, and oppressed. Rufus Jones used to tell about a five-year-old boy who had been bombed out of his home during World War 11 and evacuated to the country. "Now," the little boy plaintively cried, "I'm nobody's nothing." This little story probably epitomizes the concern which the Quakers have traditionally had during their long history. As one commentator has aptly put it, they have demonstrated to the "nobody's nothings" that they were "somebody's somethings," and that an unknown somebody cared enough to come a long way to offer the necessities of life.

Today, Quakers still cherish the simple directness of manner and word as their forebears and for the same reason, but they do not manifest it through a special form of dress or language. (By the end of World War 11 the old style Quaker dress had died out almost everywhere except in southeastern Ohio where a few conservative Friends still wore it.) Nevertheless, the idea is universally present among Quakers that they should be "a peculiar people." Rufus Jones, believing that a new and more demanding peculiarity was needed in contemporary times, said:

We live in the world.... We are bound to live in the world and to look and speak like the general run of people. But we must not, we cannot, give up the idea of being a peculiar people. Only henceforth the peculiarity must not be in outward form, it must be in inward life and power. . . the absolute confrontation of our lives with the reality of God.

Of course, so far as frontier living in early Ohio was concerned, the life of the Friends did not differ greatly from that of others who were wresting survival from a wilderness. The whole region was heavily forested which meant clearing every acre before it could be cultivated. Everyone was expected to be fairly self-sufficient, which meant being one's own shoemaker, blacksmith, weaver, miller, and doctor. However, even the arduous tasks were turned into social activities by the community-house and barn raisings, corn huskings, quilting parties, and apple cuttings often provided the recreational and social outlets. Other opportunities for fun were offered by sledding, taffy pulls, games, and debating and literary societies. There was no dancing or card playing. Wedding dinners and infares were special events, with guests present from as far as Philadelphia.

And yet, even while sharing such common conditions in early settlements, the Friends were "a peculiar people" in at least one respect. They desired the advantages of a primary education for their children. Quakers were pioneers in coeducation and their boarding schools were forerunners of the public education systems. This activity might appear contradictory in view of the fact that a religious society based on the doctrine of the "Inner Light" could easily have discounted the importance of education. But, from the very beginning, George Fox realized its necessity. In his encouragement for the teaching of "whatsoever things are civil and useful in creation," he helped to lay the foundations for the Friends' traditional emphasis on a pragmatic education, especially in the areas of science and math. Not only were they concerned with educating their own children but, in keeping with their concern for oppressed people, the Friends established schools for freed Negroes and the Indians to provide them with a technical education stressing agricultural skills and trades. Consequently, Friends' subscription schools early sprang into being. Some meetings were able to hire a teacher and conduct the school along modern lines; others got no farther than to provide a house. The term "subscription school" often meant that it was up to a teacher to go around in a neighborhood to solicit patronage. Generally, these schools limited their offerings to the traditional "three R's reading, 'riting, and 'rithmetic." Occasionally, one could find an exception to this pattern, as in the example of John Butler. This young man from Damascus, Ohio, wished to add geography and grammar to the curriculum at his Friends school. His innovation brought a prompt visit and remonstrance from the school committee, but they agreed to compromise and allow the subjects to be taught on an experimental basis for one year. It Is interesting to note that the new studies proved to be a success and their propriety was never again questioned.

Since often the Quaker institutions were the only schools in early rural America, they welcomed non-Quaker children as well. However, around the time of the American Revolution, Quakers began to emphasize what was called a "religiously guarded education." As Friends turned inward and disassociated themselves from the world, their schools began to refuse to accept children of the "world's people." Quaker education, then, contributed greatly to the growing belief that Quakers were a people set apart, "a peculiar people."